by Mandy Baxter
Chapter Two
“Obligated? What the fuck does that even mean?”
The burn of Avery’s cool rebuff was still simmering just under Jase’s skin even after having a week to cool down. He couldn’t get her out of his head, his memory overwhelmed with images of her dark hair cut into an edgy bob, and the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. There was a pretty good chance he could have bench-pressed her petite frame with one arm she was so tiny, and she had the cutest button nose he’d ever laid eyes on. In a word, she was stunning. And the fact that he couldn’t have her, made him want her that much more.
“How in the hell should I know what it means?” Carson sat on his couch, watching game footage. There wasn’t a day of the week the guy wasn’t eating, breathing, or sleeping football. “I know I said she was the one, but maybe you should have cut your losses and moved on. The room was full of supermodel-gorgeous women.”
Supermodel-gorgeous? Hardly. More like rode hard and put away wet. The tension and bad-luck streak he’d hoped to end with a wild romp with Avery had crashed and burned. And rather than find some other woman to get the job done, convincing Avery to go out with him had become Jase’s single-minded obsession. “Can you just give me the name of the catering company?”
“I can, but I gotta say, this isn’t the best time to start anything. You were supposed to hit it and quit it, dude. Not chase after her like a lovesick puppy. The playoffs are around the corner and I want your brain getting the necessary blood flow. Know what I mean?”
“Dude. I don’t even want you thinking about where my blood is flowing. Know what I mean? Just give me the damned number and get back to your home movies.”
“You’re going to appreciate these home movies come next week. Especially when I decide to throw an outside right pass.”
Translation: give me any more shit and you won’t even touch the ball next game. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love the fact that you watch so much game footage? I mean—”
“All Occasions Catering. Now get lost.”
“Thanks,” Jase said as he headed for the door. “See you at practice tomorrow.”
“Don’t be late!” Carson called after him. “Cuz we’re going to the Super Bowl, baby!”
Another reason why Jase loved Carson: his unfailing optimism.
∗∗∗
Throwing together yet another last-minute party wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Especially since most of the people he’d invited had already been to one of the three he’d thrown last week or they had other plans. What had started out as a full-on bash was now more like a dinner party on steroids. Just a little bigger and bulkier than you might expect. Definitely not the sort of shindig that would warrant a handful of waitresses. Of course, just like for the past three parties, there was only one waitress that Jase wanted in attendance tonight.
He’d requested her again specifically and since the team—and now Jase—had thrown a lot of business their way, the caterer had assured Jase that Avery would be there without question. Jesus, he was nervous as a newborn calf, all wobbly legs and unsure steps. Twice already tonight he’d tripped on his own damned feet and he doubted that would do much to make an impression.
Unless he was planning to send her running the other way.
At half past six, the caterers arrived, carrying in boxes full of food that made Jase’s stomach growl. He’d requested good old-fashioned Texas barbeque tonight, the kind like his mom used to make. Brisket, beans, potato salad, and cornbread. Tailgating food.
“I swear, I’ve been here so many times in the past week, I feel like this is my own kitchen. I don’t even have to ask where the plates and silverware are anymore. I’ll go ahead and get the table set.”
Jase looked over at the caterer—Penny? No, Peyton. He’d been preoccupied, searching for one face in particular. “Sorry, what was that?”
Peyton repeated herself, but again Jase didn’t hear a word. Avery walked into the kitchen beside another woman, each of them carrying a cardboard box. His gut clenched tight and his mouth went dry. Damn, just the sight of her sent him reeling, like the rush of taking a shot of top-shelf bourbon. He was drunk on nothing more than her nearness.
“Mr. Blackwell?” the caterer gave him a quizzical look.
“Sorry?” Jesus, he wasn’t doing much to come across as a guy who had his shit together. He forced his gaze from Avery and let Peyton lead him toward the patio. Right, she’d asked something about where he’d wanted her to set up the buffet. “I’ve got tables ready to go over here.”
∗∗∗
“I think someone has a crush,” Kristie whispered in a singsong tone into Avery’s ear. Her stomach was slowly clawing its way to her throat and no matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t seem to get rid of the lump.
“I seriously doubt that,” Avery replied with a grin. “Just because he asked me out once, doesn’t mean he meant anything by it. He only took pity on me because I’d made a fool out of myself.”
“Uh-huh. Right.” Kristie’s rueful tone rang out in the expansive kitchen that gleamed with polished granite and stainless steel appliances. It was the sort of gourmet layout that was every aspiring chef’s dream. She’d kill for a kitchen like this. “This is the guy’s fourth dinner party in just over a week, Avery. And Peyton told me that he’s requested that you work every single one. I doubt it was your superior serving skills that put you at the top of his list.”
“Ha. Ha. Thanks.” Avery knew she wasn’t the world’s most graceful person. Her middle name was klutz. And as a server, she sucked. She’d taken this job with the hopes that Peyton would eventually put her in the kitchen doing what she loved most: creating culinary masterpieces. But so far, she’d done little more than arrange hors d’oeuvres on serving platters. Not exactly fulfilling her life’s ambition. “I think you’re wrong, but I’m not going to complain about the extra hours. It’ll be a nice pad to my paycheck.”
“Oh, I’m not wrong,” Kristie replied. “And I think I owe you a big thank you. Four Dallas Cowboys parties in less than a week. Bring on the man candy!”
From the French doors that led out to the patio, Jase Blackwell stared over the heads of everyone in the kitchen, those light-brown eyes zeroed in on her. A pleasant shiver rippled from the top of Avery’s head and slid down her spine. His back had been turned to her when she’d first walked into the kitchen, but even so, her heart fluttered when she’d recognized the defined muscles, the curve of his neck, and shock of tawny hair that was just the right amount of messy. When he turned and noticed her? Her knees had buckled. His effect on her was undeniable.
After a week of thinking of nothing but the sexy football star, how pathetic was it that she’d known him with his back turned to her? Their gazes locked and his lips spread into a slow smile. It was that wicked, confident, I-get-what-I-want-when-I-want-it expression that had nearly curled Avery’s toes when they’d first met.
“Look at the size of his hands,” Kristie said under her breath as she started to unload the boxes. “How would you like to have those palms cupped around your ass?”
Avery could think of worse ways to spend an evening. “Pro ballers are notorious for screwing around.” It was better to remind herself of why Jase Blackwell was off-limits rather than entertain any fantasies about what it would be like to have his hands on her. “Would you really want to subject yourself to that sort of revolving-door hookup, Kristie?”
“He could revolve my door anytime.”
Avery laughed. “Gross.”
“What? Are you seriously trying to tell me that you wouldn’t let the Billion Dollar Blackwell ring your bell into the wee hours of the morning if you had the chance?”
She’d had the chance. Sort of. And she’d sent him packing. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you feel self-conscious? I mean, the guy must get propositioned by hotties all the time.” Women a thousand times more put together than she was. “I’d be so worried about measuring up that I probably wouldn�
�t enjoy myself.”
“You’re a total hottie, Avery.” Kristie nudged her hip into Avery’s as she took the foil off a pan of sliced smoked brisket. “You already measure up.”
Avery wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and sniffed. “And that is why you’re my BFF.”
“Damn straight,” Kristie said. “A girl can dream, right? I say go for it, Avery. When are you ever going to get another opportunity like this again? Live a little! In fact, I dare you to go after him.”
Avery had never been one to back down from a challenge and Kristie knew it. She had to admit, she was tempted. What could it hurt to spend a little quality time with the gorgeous pro football star? As long as she went into it knowing that it would never be anything more than a casual one-night stand. She continued to ready serving platters for the night’s fifteen guests, and Avery was careful to keep her eyes on her work. The urge to look up, to search the kitchen for any sign of Jase was almost too hard to resist and she didn’t need to complicate her life by chasing after something that was out of her reach. But, oh man, she couldn’t help but think that a night with Jase Blackwell would be one she’d never forget.
“Okay, I think we’re ready to roll.” Avery’s boss, Peyton, breezed into the kitchen, a fluttering mass of excited energy. She loved her job and it showed, but Avery could have done without the hyperactive flapping of arms as she ushered her and Kristie toward the patio.
Here’s goes. Try not to spill anything … Nothing conveyed professionalism like dumping a plateful of barbeque on one of the dinner guests. But the second she walked out onto the tiled patio, her hands began to shake. Abort! Abort! Was it too late to turn around and head back for the kitchen? Probably. Damn it.
She felt Jase’s eyes on her without even having to look up to confirm the fact. His gaze burned through her, igniting all of her nerve endings until her skin tingled with a pleasant warmth that settled between her thighs. She tried again to remind herself why it wasn’t a good idea to give in to Jase Blackwell’s advances but her body was giving her a hell of a counterargument.
“Holy crap, Avery. He’s eyeballing you like you’re his next meal. Rawr.” Kristie nudged her with an elbow as they returned to the kitchen to grab the side dishes. “How many times has he asked you out?”
“Since last week?” Avery said. “Three.” At every dinner party he’d thrown, he’d asked her out at the end of the night. And Avery had turned him down each and every time.
“And you haven’t accepted why?”
That was a good question. Avery set a tray of brisket on the buffet table and followed Kristie back into the kitchen. She grabbed the king-sized bowl of potato salad and headed for the patio. “I’m really not sure if it’s a good idea or not.”
Kristie came up behind her carting a pot of baked beans. “Let me answer that for you, Ave. It’s definitely a good idea.”
Across the expanse of the well-manicured lawn, Avery caught sight of Jase from the corner of her eye. He was chatting up a group of guys and their dates, or wives, or whatever, but somehow, she felt his attention on her as a vibration that traveled the length of her body. Every inch of her was painfully aware of him, dialed in to his exact location like metal seeking out a magnet.
What would it hurt to give in to her attraction? Even if it was just for one night?
Again, she caught his eye from a distance and her breath caught at the intensity of his stare. Her heart clenched at the thought of what it would be like to be discarded by a man like Jason Blackwell once he was done with her. She didn’t think her self-esteem would be able to take a hit like that. He could throw a million dinner parties for all she cared, Avery wasn’t going to give in no matter how charming—or sexy—he might have been. Jase Blackwell was simply going to have to remain one item on her bucket list that went uncrossed.
Distance was the only option.
Chapter Three
“Come on you piece of junk. Start!”
If ever Avery had wanted to firebomb her own car it was right now. Kristie and Peyton had already taken off for the night, leaving Avery officially stranded. And apparently dead was the theme of the night because when she fished her phone from the bottom of her purse, she found that it had rolled over and kicked the bucket sometime in the past few hours as well.
Great.
She stared through the windshield at the looming three-story mansion that was Jason Blackwell’s house. The place was a castle in comparison to her own modest apartment. Avery’s stomach clenched at the thought of knocking on the door and asking him for help. Wouldn’t that be the icing on tonight’s cake? She rested her head against the steering wheel and let out a groan. A do-over would be so welcome right about now.
Avery squealed at the sound of a knock on her window and her head snapped back from the steering wheel with the force of a rattlesnake strike. Her heart jumped up into her throat and her fear slowly transformed to annoyance when she came face-to-face with Jase’s smiling countenance. Glad I could entertain you. Ugh.
“Car won’t start?”
Avery rolled down the window, cringing at its squeaky protest. “Oh, no. I just like to round out a night of waitressing by hanging out in customers’ driveways. It’s sort of my thing. You don’t mind, do you?”
Jase laughed and the sound rippled through Avery’s body, settling low in her abdomen. She hadn’t felt that sort of spark in a long time. And it scared the crap out of her. “Believe it or not, that wouldn’t be the strangest thing a woman has done in my driveway.”
Avery gave him a wry smile. “Somehow, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Jase opened the car door and Avery stiffened. For some reason the barrier of the door between them put her at ease. As though protecting her from the image of perfection on the other side. She was willing to bet those feathery locks were silky soft. He was so tall that it looked uncomfortable for him to hunch down to eye level with her. His body just seemed to go on forever. And when he smiled … sweet Jesus. A rush of liquid heat spread from her belly outward, bathing her in delicious warmth. If a grin made her feel that good, she could only imagine how his hands would make her feel …
“Far be it from me to interrupt a woman’s post-waitressing rituals, but if you want, I can give you a ride home.”
As she saw it, Avery had two options. One, she could ask Jase to use his phone and call Kristie to come pick her up. In which case, she’d be alone with him in his house. Two, she could let him drive her home. In which case, she’d be alone with him in his car. Crap. Either way they’d be alone together and Avery seriously doubted she’d have the willpower to turn him down again if he asked her out. Holy crap, she was sure her cheeks were flushed from the heat in his gaze. The rest of her body sure as hell was.
“Avery? I’m sensing a moral dilemma. It’s just a ride home. I’m not asking you to knock off a bank with me or anything.”
She cocked a brow. “What? You mean that’s not what this is about? I brought along a black catsuit, a ski mask, and everything. You know, just in case.”
Jase’s resounding laughter melted Avery’s insides. “Oh, sugar. I would pay good money to see you in that getup.”
It was a joke of course, but the way his voice got low and husky with the words caused Avery to shudder. His accent even got a little thicker, slow and sweet like honey fresh from the comb. She wondered what it would be like to hear that voice low in her ear, whispering passionate, dirty things and Avery shifted in her seat. Just thinking about sex with Jase made her body burn and her clit throb. If the simple thought of him made her wet, she could only imagine what the real thing would be like.
She gave a nervous laugh. She could talk a good game, but her snark was a shield she wore to hide the lack of confidence she felt on a daily basis. “I doubt it would be too impressive. I bet you’d pay more just to get me to take it off.” Oh god. “Wait. That came out wrong. I don’t mean that you’d want me to—Not that I think you’d want to see me—” Could the seat just fold her
up and swallow her already? “That’s totally not what I meant.”
Jase’s answering amusement rippled over her, open and good-natured. “I’d say something to that but somehow I doubt I could give you a response that wouldn’t get me into trouble.”
Avery grinned and her cheeks flushed with renewed heat. “Probably not.”
“Okay, so how about that ride? Or would you rather camp out in my driveway until someone sends a search party out for you?”
She let out a slow breath and tried to slow her racing heart. “Thanks. A ride would be great.”
Jase extended his hand and his palm swallowed hers as he helped her out of the car. He held on just a little too long, the lingering contact causing sparks of sensation to tingle along Avery’s nerve endings. She cleared her throat and he gave her a sheepish grin as he released her hand, which she rubbed against her thigh. As though the simple act could banish the sensation of his touch. She’d need to cut her hand off at the wrist for that to happen.
Jase led her into the garage that was at least twice the size of her apartment. The contents were a gearhead’s wet dream: a Maserati parked at the far end, a Harley-Davidson toward the rear, and a vintage ’67 Corvette in mint condition occupied the center space. Jase didn’t pay them any mind as he made his way toward the older-model Chevy pickup in the far right bay. It seemed so out of place among the other cars and high-priced toys. Caked with mud and much too practical and lusterless, like a rock nestled in a bed of diamonds.
“This poor truck looks like it’s run the gauntlet,” Avery remarked as she opened the door. What was it with Texas boys that they all had to jack their pickups up a mile off the ground? She was going to need a damned stepladder to get inside. Even up on her tiptoes, she couldn’t grab the oh-shit handle on the frame to hoist herself up. “For some reason,” she grunted as she reached up again, “I doubt there are many mud bogs around this swanky subdivision.”
