Copyright © 2014 by Angela Corbett
Cover design by Bookfabulous Designs
Photographer-Brad Olson Photography
Interior design by Novel Ninjutsu
Edited by Inktip Editing
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America by Midnight Sands Publishing, Utah
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To A.B. for all of her dating stories
“It’s an epidemic, Sydney. A freaking epidemic.” Brynn’s face was scrunched into a frown as she slid into the chair next to mine. She put her salad and Diet Coke down on the table. We were at Soup and Spoon, our favorite lunch spot a block from Easton University campus. I’d been at the table awhile, my face buried in a book, trying to study for my law school prep class. So much information was packed into the short summer class that I felt like all I did was study.
I set the book to the side and took in Brynn’s tight crimson v-necked tee that showcased her fantastic cleavage, bootcut jeans that hugged her ass, and thick espresso colored hair that fell in curls all the way to her waist. My hair was long, but I didn’t have the commitment required to take care of a mane like hers. She was stop-and stare-gorgeous, though I’d never convince her of that.
“What’s the epidemic?” I asked, unwrapping my ginormous chocolate toffee cookie. I’d been saving it as a reward for finishing going through my notes. It’s the little things.
“Small dicks.” She shook her head in frustration. “Cocktail weenies are bigger than what I’ve had to deal with lately. I’m going to start making guys tell me their size before I go out with them. I’m sick of wasting my time on tiny weenies.”
This should have been shocking, but not much surprised me anymore when it came to Brynn Harper. I laughed, thoroughly amused, as I broke off a piece of cookie. “I guess your date last night didn’t go well?”
She threw her arms up in disgust. “No. It didn’t. You just don’t understand because you haven’t been investigating. Just wait, you’ll be disappointed.”
I considered that as the toffee and chocolate melted together in my mouth. While I wasn’t a virgin, sex had never been a big priority for me. I was very goal-oriented. Currently my goals included graduating from my excellent law school at the top of my class, and then moving on to a fantastic law firm, and becoming one of the best attorneys in the country. Pregnancy would hamper those goals. Since no form of birth control was one hundred percent effective, I’d decided to stay away from sex until I at least had my law degree…and maybe forever. It hadn’t been too difficult. My experience with sex in the past hadn’t been memorable. If history was any indication, I really wasn’t missing much.
I raised a brow. “I didn’t realize an investigation was underway.”
Brynn heaved an exasperated sigh as she dribbled her lettuce with light dressing. “You’ve known me since we were freshmen in college, Syd. I’ve been investigating dick sizes for years.”
“I thought you were just hooking up. Not taking notes.”
She waved me off like I was being ridiculous. “Of course I was hooking up! But it’s been impossible not to notice the current state of weenies. The situation is horrifying!” Her eyes were so wide that her long, thick lashes practically hit her perfectly arched eyebrows. “It’s all those hormones in milk—I know it. I bet dicks have been getting smaller and smaller for at least thirty years. Someone should study that.” She paused, her brows knit together. “I wonder if I could make it a topic for my Master’s thesis?”
I broke off another piece of my cookie. “You might want to wait until you actually start grad school before you propose that as your research concentration. It would be bad to get kicked out of the program before you even start.”
She rolled her eyes. “You worry too much, Syd,” she said, stabbing a forkful of lettuce. “You need to learn to relax.”
I nodded. “I will. Once I have my law degree and my dream job.”
“‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may’,” she said, quoting one of my favorite poems by Robbert Herrick. “You’re not really doing that, you know.”
I tilted my head to the side, thinking. “We just have two different versions of seizing, Brynn.” I pointed to my text book. “Mine involves studying books, not men.”
She lifted her hand, opening and closing it as she mouthed the words blah, blah, blah. “My version is way more fun. You’re going to regret not doing stupid things while you were young and had an excuse.” She lifted her eyes, scanning the room and then abruptly stopped, her gaze totally focused somewhere behind me and to the right. “Speaking of doing things, the guy behind you is throw-me-down-and-screw-me-now hot.”
Brynn had hot guy radar. That should be the study of her thesis. We’d done the hot guy assessment routine so many times that it was habit. I waited for her to glance away—which seemed to take a lot longer than usual—counted to ten, and turned slowly, scanning the room in the direction she’d been ogling. My lips parted in a surprised “O” at the man—and he was definitely all man—sitting two tables away. Brynn had reason to stare.
His short, dark brown hair had a little curl to it and was styled like he’d just gotten out of bed. Judging by the shadow across his square jawline, he’d also forgotten to shave. His eyes were what really captivated me, though. I’d only seen such a vibrant shade of blue once before. I’d taken a high school graduation trip to Cancun, Mexico, and thought the colors of the ocean were the most stunning hues I’d ever seen. This guy’s eyes were the exact same bright blue. If I’d seen him in a photograph, I’d have sworn they were Photoshopped. His arms strained the seams of the white tee shirt he was wearing, and I had no doubt that everything under his clothes was probably as captivating and sculpted as his face. A matte black, beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. Most men wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but on this guy, it looked masculine, and just upped his sexy factor even more.
I’d mastered the two second check-out years ago, but this guy had caught me completely off guard. I’d been looking—some might even say leering—for far more than two seconds. Just as I got my wits back, the guy looked up, straight at me. He met my gaze—and held it.
And held it some more.
A flutter started in my stomach. His expression was full of unabashed self-assurance. Clear eyes were trained on me with a brazen focus that made the flutter descend much, much lower. Sparks felt like they were jumping across the room, and my breath caught in my throat. Just when I thought I might pass out, one corner of his lips lifted slightly and he cocked a brow expectantly. I knew how to flirt. And if I was reading him right, he’d just issued a dare to come over—one I wasn’t sure I was capable of accepting. I hadn’t said a word to him, but it was obvious this guy had almost as much confidence as he had testosterone.
He gave me about five seconds to decide what I was going to do, then tilted his head down, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug that seemed to indicate I’d had my chance and lost it. He stood, grabbing his tray filled with trash left over from his lunch. His jeans hung low on his hips, held up by a wide black belt with a square, distr
essed silver buckle and I couldn’t help but watch him as he walked away. It was a really nice view.
“What the hell was that?” Brynn asked in a half whisper. Her voice brought me out of my trance. “I think you just had eye-sex with him!”
“Sorry,” I muttered, glancing back at her for a brief second so she knew I wasn’t totally ignoring her. I watched the guy empty his tray into the trash, and stack it with the others above the bin. Every fiber of my being was willing him to turn back around and look at me again.
Every.
Single.
One.
My fibers failed me. He walked out the door without a second glance. I blew out a disappointed breath. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
“No shit!” Brynn practically yelled. “I could feel your chemistry with Blue Eyes from here!”
I waved her off, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, when really, I was a bit jolted by it. I’d never felt something like that before, especially for a guy I hadn’t even talked to. He could sound like a chipmunk for all I knew. And chipmunks were not a turn-on for me.
“Well, I bet he has more than a cocktail weenie,” Brynn said, her eyes bright with teasing. “Why don’t you find out?”
The guy passed by the front window and out of my line of sight. I shifted my eyes away from the windows and back to Brynn. “Because that would get in the way of my goals.”
She laughed. “You realize you’ve barely looked at me for the last five minutes?”
I took a drink of my dark chocolate iced coffee. It was my third one today. “I can appreciate nice things without having to try them. He was hot, Brynn. That’s all.”
She grinned conspiratorially. “Trying them makes it so much more entertaining.” She leaned back in her chair, contemplative. “I haven’t seen him around town or campus before. I wonder if he’s a student? Or if he just works around here?”
I’d seen the veins visible through his huge arms, and when he’d stood up, I’d noticed his thighs were pretty darn substantial, too. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s a trainer at a gym or something?”
She put a finger to her lips. “Maybe…” she paused, thinking about it. “Nah…I bet he does something mountain-manny. Like chopping wood.”
I rolled my eyes. She’d been spending way too much time watching stripper movies.
“What?” she said, noticing my dismissal. “I’m just saying he probably has a nice, big ax.” She slowly licked her lips and I could practically see the images forming in her head. “And I bet he knows exactly how to use it.”
That thought made my mind immediately wander to what he’d look like shirtless chopping wood—which would be great if I was home alone in my room, with the secret box only Brynn knew the location to in case of my death so my mom didn’t find it and have a stroke over the dirty things her daughter liked—but it wasn’t so great in the middle of a restaurant. I quickly changed the subject. “What’s the plan for this weekend?” Brynn always had our weekends planned by Wednesday at the latest.
“Party at Collin’s.”
I sighed. I hated Collin’s parties. “I don’t know why you still hang out with him. He’s like the President of douchebags.” Really, he was the President of his frat until we graduated a couple of months ago, and that’s pretty much the same thing as being the President of douchery.
She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug as she pushed her food away. She’d hardly eaten any of it—typical. “He has free food and beer. Plus, he’s a great singer when he gets drunk enough.”
I nodded in concession. He really was a good singer, and if I was being honest, he wasn’t a bad guy. I just despised frat boys in general…which was a problem since Brynn spent so much time with so many of them. Brynn’s phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen. “I have a meeting to go to, but I’ll see you at the house later?”
“Sure.”
The phone vibrated again. She grinned as she read the text and quickly replied, her fingers flying over the screen.
I eyed her skeptically. “You’re not going to a meeting. You’re going to hook up with someone.”
She flashed a sly smile as she slid her phone into her back pocket and stood. “Well, it could be considered a research meeting. I do have a Master’s thesis idea I need to gather information for. I’ll have to start carrying a notebook, and make a chart.”
I shook my head, a little jealous of her spontaneity, and wishing I was a bit more fun as opposed to focused. “Let’s hope you find more than a cocktail weenie, then.”
She gave me an evil smile and lifted her hand with her index and middle finger crossed as she walked away. I took a sip of coffee, thinking about the current state of my non-social life, and then pushed it to the back of my mind so I could review my notes one more time.
White smoke billowed out from under the hood of my car. I glanced at the temperature gauge; it had passed the danger zone about five notches ago. Great. Overheated…again. I pulled over to the side of the road as it sputtered to a stop. Ugh. I loved She-Ra, my cobalt blue classic Camaro, but it wasn’t the most reliable car in the world. At least I could identify everything under the hood, unlike the newer, boring cars my friends drove. Then again, their cars started—and ran continually. Point to them. But mine was sexier. Point to me.
I put my hazard lights on and got out of the car. As I lifted the hood, a sweet, familiar smell hit me. Anti-freeze was sprayed across the entire engine compartment like a neon green version of stars. I could probably find the Big Dipper in the dripping dots. I blew out a long sigh followed by a string of curses. Usually, I could just wait for the car to cool down and add some distilled water or anti-freeze to the radiator. Judging by this particular liquid explosion, I was going to need more help than what I could get from my emergency car kit in the trunk. I grabbed my phone and hit the button for Red’s Garage. Red was number three on my speed dial, behind my parents and Brynn. Red and I had become good friends since I moved to Winchester, Colorado, for college. I was in constant need of a tow truck and mechanic.
“Howdy, Syd. What’s wrong?”
I wondered how many emergency calls it took to make it into your mechanic’s phone contacts. I’d been there a while. “Don’t you ever think I’m just calling to chat?”
“Yeah. About what’s wrong with your car. You should’ve bought a Ford. Then you wouldn’t have these problems.”
I sighed. “I’m sure I’d have this problem with any car as old as you…or my dad. I’m on Fifth West and Second South. Something’s wrong with my radiator and it’s spewing anti-freeze like the girl in The Exorcist. Can you come help me?”
I heard something crash in the background on Red’s end. “Yeah.” He paused. “I’ll send the flatbed tow truck just in case.”
“Thanks!”
I wasn’t far from town, so by the time I finished texting Brynn to tell her I’d probably be late for the party at Collin’s tonight, a bright red truck with a long flatbed had pulled in front of me. Flatbed towing is better for She-Ra, so I always insisted on it, but Red would have done it anyway. He loved She-Ra almost as much as I did. I’d been sitting on her trunk—only because my jeans didn’t have any buttons on the back that could scratch the car—but stood when the truck came to a stop. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and waited for Red to get out and save my paint job from the anti-freeze assassin. Red was a handy guy to have around.
The light from the setting sun glared off the truck door as it opened. The person was in shadow, but his outline showed a large, tall, imposing frame. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, full head of hair. I thinned my eyes. Since Red was just a little above hobbit size and balding, I figured this must be one of his employees, and not one I recognized by silhouette. I lifted my hand to block the light and try to get a better view. It didn’t help. He kept walking toward me and was five feet away before I realized who it was.
Confident, gorgeous blue eyes held mine. It was the guy. And he was standing in front of me…about to work on
my engine. I had a momentary hot flash and took a deep, steadying breath to try to calm down.
“Hey,” I said, shoving my hands in my front pockets. There was no telling what my hands would do if I gave them freedom—but I was sure it would be mighty embarrassing, and perhaps illegal.
His eyes raked over me, dark and with purpose. I felt like I was being undressed with each shift of his gaze. “Hey,” he said back, his voice deep and smooth. Shit. Even his voice seeped testosterone. Why couldn’t he have sounded like a chipmunk?
After what felt like a thorough inventory of my assets, his gaze slowly made its way up my body to meet my eyes. I felt like I’d been measured—and was suddenly completely self-conscious about my clothing choice: low-rise jeans, a rose pink sequined tank that complimented my cleavage, fair skin, and blonde hair, and a beige moto jacket. I’d been pretty happy with the ensemble when I’d left the house, but wasn’t sure how I felt about it now. I wished I was one of those confident girls who could grab a guy’s attention with a smile and keep it for as long as I wanted. But I wasn’t Brynn, and there was no point in pretending I was. Mindless flirting with guys I couldn’t care less about was one thing—that sort of flirting I could do. But this guy was hot. Like, break-the-rules-and-to-hell-with-my-goals hot. This guy was in a whole different ballpark, and I was completely out of my league.
He’d practically had eye-sex with me at the Soup and Spoon, but I didn’t want to make it obvious that I remembered who he was. Though, really, who wouldn’t remember him? He could star in an ad for muscles. So, I went with something utterly stupid instead. “You’re not Red.”
One eyebrow went up like he was contemplating my lack of IQ. “Nope.”
I nodded, feeling like an idiot for beginning the conversation that way. At least I hadn’t started with an ode to his eyes and bicep circumference—because that had been on the tip of my tongue. I decided to try again. “I think I saw you the other day at lunch. Do you go to college at Easton?” There, that was good. An acknowledgment that I recognized him, but not an affirmation that I’d thought about him in seriously inappropriate ways that required me dipping into my secret naughty box on several occasions since I’d ogled him earlier this week.
Tempting Sydney Page 1
