by Violet Duke
As he felt her soft, pouty mouth curve up into a smile, just inches from his lips, he had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching for her.
His hands ached to slide her dark, silky hair to the side so he could chase away the dark clouds her deep chocolate-with-cinammon eyes hid so well and kiss her soft lips again and again until her throaty voice could utter nothing more than his name.
The chiming peal of Xoey’s cell phone a second later shattered the moment.
“I should probably get that. It’s Dani’s ringtone.”
“I hear she has a date lined up for you already—your handpicked Mr. Right based on that formula you came up with last night.”
A puzzled look crossed her features for a split second, before a dozen slow-rising emotions followed.
He expected her to see joy, excitement, maybe even a blush or two.
He didn’t expect her to look…sad.
“You should probably answer that, babe. Mr. Right awaits.”
He left before he could psychoanalyze his choice of words.
Because while he believed wholeheartedly in the perfection of their imperfect fit, she didn’t.
He was just one of her Mr. Wrongs.
That didn’t stop him for waiting on her, however, and hoping to hell that his heart could find some way to let her go before she went and got married to the mathematically perfect paragon.
* * * * *
XOEY LET DANI’S CALL go to voicemail.
In striking contrast to last night, which she was now remembering pretty well, the idea of going out on a bunch of blind dates that were Frankensteined combinations of her exes left a bad taste in her mouth.
It tasted like next-day tequila.
And hearing Isaac encourage her to go find her Mr. Right had simply set the alcohol on fire and sent it burning through her insides.
The gut-incinerating reminder that they were friends and nothing more was always a bitter pill—one she found near-impossible to swallow the closer they became.
Because as much as she’d never jeopardize their friendship for anything in the world, there were admitted moments of…weakness. Tougher still was the fact that there was never a consistent trigger beyond him just being him.
It wasn't just his looks. Though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t still feel her heart speed up a little whenever she saw him.
Tall, casually carefree light brown hair—a contrast to the always quietly intense look on his face—paired with a seriously ripped physique that had somehow become even more distractingly photoshopped in the last year. He was a little too tough and serious looking to be pretty, but a touch too boyish to look hardened. When it came to Isaac, while a woman could easily fall in lust at first glance, the second glance was when she’d be in real trouble.
Profoundly thoughtful hazel eyes that always seemed to question, but never probe. A slow, easy smile that didn’t make an appearance often, but was generous and touchingly jubilant whenever it did. And the most expressive eyebrows she’d ever seen on living creature. The man could convey a hundred different thoughts and messages with his candid brow quirks, almost as easily as he could shutter his feelings completely.
The latter was a rare event when it happened, but it was a blow to the solar plexus every time.
Just as the opposite occurrence would always leave her heart devastatingly affected.
As she’d come to find over the past year and a half, Isaac was a man who would stand and fight the evils in the world for those he cared about, while never giving up on his belief in all the good in the world that he couldn’t see.
He was one of the kindest men she’d ever met. Genuine to the core. When he’d heard that one of the guys who worked out at his gym had a nephew that was getting bullied, Isaac had immediately started free self-defense classes for kids of all ages. And the defense he armed them with wasn’t just martial arts, but on ways to avoid fighting, to see the bigger picture when a situation seemed to blur everything out of focus.
Once, she recalled a time when they’d been leaving a restaurant, and they’d run across a woman crying in the parking lot, holding her bruised cheek. After first determining the asshole who’d hit her wasn’t anywhere near enough for him to hunt down and beat senseless, he’d picked her up, dusted her off and told her she was strong, and that she possessed inside herself the power to no longer be a victim. He’d told her that he wasn’t there to lecture her or judge her, or even ask any questions. He simply gave her his card and told her his gym would give her free lessons on fighting back aggressors that used their size and brute force to intimidate and hurt her. All she had to do was find the strength to come, and they’d help her find the strength to do the rest.
She never showed.
Xoey had watched that quiet intensity of his turn to sadness when weeks later, he finally accepted that she wasn’t going to come.
But instead of chalking it up to his having tried and failed, he’d taken inventory of the tools at his disposal and said simply, “I’ll bring the classes to them. If coming here takes more strength than they have, I’ll bring the classes to them.”
That was when he’d gathered a bunch of fighters and neighborhood women to put together a series of streaming online self-defense videos. Everything he taught in his classes, he put online, and made sure that the links were disseminated as widely as possible.
“I hope she sees the videos,” he’d said when the view hits started climbing at viral rates.
Those were the moments Xoey fell even more head over heels for him, and it would inevitably be followed by the return of that laidback wrap-you-in-a-blanket ease about him that would catch her unguarded. Have her reaching for him before she could stop herself.
But stop she would. Every time.
…About two seconds after he’d catch her, however, with those sharp, attentive eyes of his.
Instead of calling her on it, or ignoring it, he’d always just meet her gaze with a banked, but still visibly smoldering intensity.
But it never went further than that.
It had always been this way with him. Something about him had always tempted her while simultaneously making her feel at home.
Even so, it hadn’t been enough.
That had been a crushing revelation for her to discover.
Not even incredible, perfect Isaac had been able to keep the memories of her past from coming back to haunt her. Not even incredible, perfect Isaac had been able to jostle free the pieces of her heart inextricably tied to those memories.
Which was why she’d had to break up with incredible, perfect Isaac.
And why she needed to pick up and dial Dani’s number.
This had to stop.
Because there just had to be a Mr. Right out there that could eclipse those unyielding memories of her biggest Mr. Wrong.
She just…had to find him.
CHAPTER SIX
ISAAC HAD BEEN abusing the hell out of the punching bag in his apartment when he got the text he’d been waiting for—hell, praying for—all night.
>> S&M. BIG TIME.
He sagged in relief. Dani’s handpicked Mr. Right for Xoey had been a swing and miss.
Another chirp came in as he quickly threw on a shirt and grabbed his keys.
>> THREE WORDS: YODELING LIGHTWEIGHT VENTRILOQUIST
Huh. He was fairly certain those three words had never been uttered together in the human language before. He was intrigued. The still early hour also held the promise of an entertaining story.
>> THIS IS A NEW RECORD.
Her reply came quickly.
>> IT WAS THE PREMATURE EJACULATION OF EPIC FAIL
He grinned, not even feeling bad for the guy at this point.
>> SO IS HE JUST A FAN OF YODELING OR A PRACTIONER?
If thumbs could laugh, his would be cracking up right now.
His cell phone rang then, which was good because he wasn’t one for texting and driving.
“I asked him the
exact same question,” replied Xoey. “Which my date interpreted as me requesting that he bust out his travel-sized harmonica to demonstrate.”
Isaac made a mental note to go clean out Dani’s rain gutters or something equally worshipful for this gift.
“The guy was actually pretty normal until he got drunk. Now, what was he drinking, you ask?” She paused for dramatic effect. “Wine, Isaac. And not even a whole bottle. One glass. One! Now, you know I don’t drink wine so I don’t know if they come with pink and blue writing on the labels, but I really do think this was some sort of chick wine. All the other tables had normal-sized wine glasses but this one came in a pretty little glass, the kind that restaurants serve dainty little scoops of ice cream in with a sprig of mint. By the time that glass was empty, he was sloshed off his rocker.”
Ah, that explained the lightweight part.
“Seriously, Isaac. The guy went through all five stages of drunkenness in maybe thirty minutes tops—from thinking he was suddenly outrageously smart to totally invisible and inaudible to people with functioning eyes and ears.”
He assumed that was around when the ventriloquism factored in.
Xoey opened her apartment door for him and hung up her phone, continuing right along in her incredulous summary of the night while Isaac dropped his phone and keys in their usual spot and followed her to the living room.
She already had the mix of buttery popcorn and salty chips ready in a big bowl, with a bag of pistachios for him to toss in on his half, and chocolate gummy bears to sprinkle on hers.
Looked like the date ended even earlier than he’d thought.
He slung one arm on the back of the couch and started munching on a handful of popcorn and chips.
A sports flick they’d both wanted to see a few months back flickered onto the TV screen.
“Is this okay?” she asked as she navigated through the previews and grabbed a blanket to snuggle up under.
“This is perfect, sweetie.”
If only they could both use the same dictionary when it came to defining their relationship.
* * * * *
“HUNGRY?”
Isaac tried not to think about the hundred hot, lusty thoughts that exploded in his brain at the sound of Xoey’s innocent question.
“Starving,” came his slightly gritty around the edges reply.
Which thankfully went unnoticed as she reached around him from behind and dropped a sandwich sized Tupperware in his hands triumphantly. “Thought so. I know you all have been putting in extra hours trying to get Tyler ready for his big MMA debut so I figured you probably worked through dinner.”
Turning around to give her a one-armed hello-hug, he cracked open the lid, grinning at the thing of beauty that awaited him inside.
Extra dry salami piled high with brie and sliced nectarines on a poppy pretzel bagel with a generous dollop of peanut butter Dijon dipping sauce.
A Xoey and Isaac original.
It was a crazy invention they’d stumbled upon during one of their DVR nights. Stackable foods were a particularly specialized zone of culinary awesomeness for them. While neither of them were really much for cooking, when it came to anything that didn’t require heating up or beating in a bowl, they were convinced they could star on their own food network show, using things like truffle oil and other ingredients from the gourmet aisle of their grocery store that they’d usually end up having to google to figure out how to use properly.
He took a giant bite of the sandwich and groaned, immediately holding the rest up for her to share so she could marvel in her own greatness.
Shaking her head with a smile, she produced her own container and settled in beside him, their backs against the big picture window overlooking the gym.
His next appreciative bite had a resounding echo from Xoey. And after that, not a single word was exchanged between them until every last morsel was gone.
“You are my angel, sweetheart.”
She licked one final drop of the nutty Dijon dressing off her thumb and fluttered her long eyelashes. “I try.”
“Oh, and speaking of my angelic ways. I made a new super cute shirt for your gym.” She pulled a fitted, women’s style t-shirt from her bag and showed it to him. “I’ve said before and I’ll say it again, ‘The Pound’ is the best gym name ever.”
She flipped open the shirt, which read across the front:
GOT TAPPED?
While the back read:
AT THE POUND
Chuckling, he actually knew a lot of guys who would buy these shirts for their girlfriends and wives. Lots of ring girls who would love it, too.
She beamed and continued excitedly, “I know what you’re thinking and you’re absolutely right. I should print the front logo across the butt of a pair of daisy dukes for your ring girls. I’ll get right on that.”
Shaking his head, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You and your dirty slogans are going to start bringing a whole new kind of clientele over here.”
“Again, I try.”
Together, they walked around the gym floor to turn off all the workout machines for the night. About halfway through, he finally ventured, “So either your date with Sienna’s perfect bachelor rescheduled or we have a new S&M record tonight.”
He’d been too busy with all the fighters to be able to drive himself crazy over Xoey’s date like he usually did, but she’d remained on his mind all night long. And after the exhausting schedule he’d been keeping the past few days, having her come over instead of text was infinitely better.
“I almost didn’t even let the guy get a chance to swing, let alone miss.”
Whoa. “That bad? The town folk who’ve been eagerly tuning in to each of your dates—word traveled fast with this one, by the way—reported he had a ‘new-money, Hamptons-meets Hollywood’ look to him.”
“Wow, that’s actually a dead-on description. My compliments to whoever’s running the gossip hotline tonight.”
“So what happened?”
“My guess? He let the internet or some highly misguided fashion magazine dress him instead of common sense. He showed up wearing a pair of designer skinny jeans and one of those ridiculously deep-cut v-neck shirts that ninety-nine percent of men shouldn’t even attempt to wear. For crying out loud, he was showing more cleavage than I was.”
Insulting Bachelor #2 with a reference to a part of her that excited the hell out of him? Ten points across the board for best post-date debrief ever.
He kept his expression and tone neutral. “I’m surprised Sienna set you up with a rich dude to begin with. What was that about?”
Xoey shrugged. “She probably misinterpreted one of the things on my list.”
He frowned. “I don’t remember there being anything on the list that could be misinterpreted like that.” And he’d seen the list. At least the photo of it that Xoey had sent to Lia’s phone.
Which could only mean…
Quick like a bunny, Xoey pivoted and darted off in the direction of the little urban messenger style bag she usually wore slung across her body instead of a purse of any sort. Sitting all by its lonesome on the chairs over by the weight lifting machines.
He beat her there without even trying, and had her password already punched in before they began their Coyote and Roadrunner chase around the gym.
Three quick swipes and a wider shot of the list flooded the screen.
Interesting.
* * * * *
CRAP.
Xoey could already see an interrogation was imminent.
Always destroy the evidence. Had primetime cable TV taught her nothing over the years?
She sighed. This night had certainly taken a strange series of twists and turns.
After the disaster that had been Dani’s Bachelor #1 blind date set-up, which Dani had apologized profusely for—but not before laughing to the point of tears, of course—Xoey hadn’t had very high expectations for Bachelor #2.
And for good reason. He’d turned o
ut to be kind of a superficial tool.
In the beginning, they’d actually had an engaging conversation about his work managing a posh night club, which had been pretty interesting since there was a lot of crossover between his work and hers.
But it’d gone downhill from there.
There was no argument that he was handsome, despite his unfortunate wardrobe choices. He looked a lot like one of the headlining strippers in the movie Magic Mike. Hair perfectly gelled, a very cosmopolitan style of dress, and made-for-TV good looks. All very ‘today’ cool, and fashionably polished.
After getting over his clothes, Xoey had actually enjoyed herself enough for the first ten or fifteen minutes—enough that she’d intended to thank Sienna by letting her and her buddies have their crazy intense fantasy football draft party at Ocotillos, something that absolutely no establishment in Cactus Creek allowed anymore…not since the epic food fight that Sienna and her boys had ended up getting into a few years back over one particularly heated draft pick.
About a half hour into the date, however, Xoey found herself switching over to deciding to charge Sienna double for all drinks at Ocotillos for the next week.
The guy flirted with everything on two legs.
Not only that, but when he found out that Xoey had once trained to be a dancer, and had been a cheerleader in high school, he’d let the true colors of his player flag fly.
She assumed he was going for some seductive dominant billionaire bit, but as the night went on, having him whisper cheesy ‘dirty talk’ in her ear with all that hot, heavy breathing against her neck just kept reminding her of the time she’d visited the zoo as a kid, and one of the baby elephants had started sniffing her with his trunk.
She called time of death on the date shortly after, politely thanking him for the drinks and conversation, and graciously blaming her long work day as the reason she was calling it a night.
By the time she’d made her way to the front entrance of the club, she saw that he’d somehow managed to get over the devastating rejection, thanks to two coeds who were coordinating their giggles and head tilts like Olympic caliber synchronized flirters.
