Kirk. Again.
Hell no!
I haven’t spoken to him in months. As soon as the legal proceedings started, he opted to communicate only via our attorneys, depriving me of the opportunity to ask questions, to get closure from him. Now, all of a sudden, he’s randomly started calling me again these past few days. He wants to talk? I don’t think so.
I quickly decline the call and push my phone down to the bottom of my bag. I doubt he’s calling about repaying his overdue debts, so I really have nothing to say to him.
Plus, I’ve got a whole lot of new and scary and confused emotions to sort out.
23
Iris
I really need to get some work done today. It feels like my money-making endeavours have taken a backseat to my ongoing emotional meltdown these past few days. I can’t slack off. I need to establish a stable source of income. I’ll still need to pay the bills after Jude is gone.
I’m headed to my room with a late afternoon cup of coffee. I’m so busy balancing my laptop and my too-full mug as I exit the kitchen, that I almost run straight into my roommate who is headed in the opposite direction.
“Whoa,” he murmurs, sidestepping me and my scalding liquid.
“Sorry!” I squeak, halting in my tracks. Somehow, none of the coffee spills.
Now, we’re standing in the hallway, only inches apart. Neither one of us in any real hurry to move. This is the first time we’ve come face-to-face since that kiss the other day. And from the way my heart is pounding now, I think it may be medically-advisable to steer clear of this guy for the foreseeable future.
He juts his chin at my cup. “Coffee, huh?” He smiles.
I chew on the corner of my bottom lip and shrug. “Yeah, coffee.”
“You should give my tea a try. See what all the hype is about.”
“Oh really?” My eyes trail down to his broad shoulders and strong chest. My mouth waters to ‘see what all the hype is about’.
He nods. “One taste and you’ll become a convert, lady. My tea is some good stuff.” Sounds like some heavy double-entendre to me.
My heated cheeks swell with my smile. “We’ll see.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
Afternoon light dances through the spaces in the hallway curtains. We stare at each other some more. His dimple is deeper than I ever noticed before. And his lips. I want to brush my mouth against his just to see if they’re as soft as I remember.
I want him. With a primal lust I’ve never felt before and I know I won’t be able to control myself if I stand here too long.
I need to get moving before I do something stupid. Again. “Excuse me,” I say in a shy lilt.
Gallantly, he steps out of the way and makes a silly sweeping motion through the air. I giggle—did I just giggle? Oh lord—and he winks.
I hustle past him. Then, I feel his fingers brush my waist and clench. “Hey, um…I think we need to talk…” Is he nervous? It sure seems that way. He takes a breath but before he finishes, my doorbell chimes. We both glance over at the entrance.
Crap. Now, I may never find out what he was about to say…
I carefully set my mug and computer on the mantle. Jude steps out of my path, and I move to answer the front door. I feel his protective presence behind me as he lingers in the room to see who my unannounced guest is.
I pull open the door and…
“Ohhh…” The word whooshes out on a low, surprised breath.
Three tall, burly professional football players stand shoulder-to-shoulder in my doorway.
24
Jude
Another round?!”
The room breaks out into riotous cheers and someone lets out an earsplitting whistle as Jason Bellino, defensive safety for the Paragons, slams his empty glass on the bartop.
Instantly, Penny and the other bartenders get to work, preparing drinks for the entire crowd. I groan, burying my face in my palm as the bar goes wild.
So much for the low-key night out these assholes promised me.
Jace just can’t help himself. My teammate is convinced he looks like an Italian underwear model, and as such, the guy’s a shameless attention whore. After posing for selfies and autographing a few butts and bras, he’s moving through the crowd toward our corner booth with pitchers of beer and a face-wide grin.
Knox pulls his cap low over his eyes and sinks down in his seat, shying away from the attention Jason is drawing. Our star running back is the most reserved of us all.
“Dude, please don’t do that again,” Maxwell begs with a pained cringe, shoving a finger into his ear and wiggling it around. He’s the Paragons’s starting quarterback and team captain. As a now-reformed party boy, he makes it his mission to keep us in line, even when we’re not on the gridiron.
In any case, I haven’t been great about keeping my phone charged since arriving at Iris’s house. At first, it was just because my knee was throbbing, and I didn’t have the willpower to constantly get up and rummage for my charger. But soon I realized I was enjoying the silence and being disconnected from the world.
Keeping off the sports blogs and away from shit-talking football fans on social media has been good for me since all I do is get myself into pointless fights with strangers on the internet. On the downside, my teammates haven’t been able to reach me.
I busted out laughing when I saw the three of them on Iris’s porch, looking disgruntled and out of place. They haven’t been very happy about my phone being off, and when their calls continued to go unanswered, they looked up Paul Price and got my new address from him.
So now, here I am at a local bar having an actual beer—or two. Or maybe this is number three?—with my friends.
Side note: the Frosty Pitcher really needs to put tea on their
