“Damn,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “Is that why she’d have my balls if we were to date?”
I tilt my head to one side. “That’s part of it.”
“And the other?”
For the first time since I met him, memories of my childhood that I’d rather stay buried attempt to force their way to the surface. “That’s not something I’m comfortable sharing.”
He holds up his hands. “Fair enough. About tonight. Can I pick you up right after work?”
“How about I meet you there? I need to go home, shower, change, and check for splinters. Plus, the floors are disgusting if you think about it. Everyone walking on them, dragging in whatever’s on the street.”
“Did you just read that?”
I make a grand gesture to the library and then tap the side of my head. “Those books and this brain aren’t just for show, fella.”
“You’re adorable,” he says, taking me aback. “What did I say wrong?”
“Nothing.” My cheeks heat, and I cover them with my hands. “It’s um… well, I’m quirky, not adorable. Adorable describes cheerleaders and puppies… and my best friend, Layton, who is neither a cheerleader or a puppy.”
“Guys dig quirky. It’s the new sexy.”
Time for more honesty.
If Dallas truly wants my help because he’s attracted to me, then he needs to know exactly what he’s in for. I don’t hop into bed easily at all. “The last guy I went out with called me a certifiable nut job, but I’m pretty sure it was because I wouldn’t blow him on our first date because he paid for dinner… like a gentleman.”
“The fuck?” The good humor drains from the room. “What kind of asshole… never mind.” He cracks his knuckles. “I hope you put him in his place.”
“I told him the correct definition for a gentleman didn’t include the words ‘demands blow jobs in payment for dinner’.” I smile sadly. “It wasn’t my best comeback, but I was caught off-guard.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
I twist my lips. “You’ve never talked to a girl like that?”
He’s already shaking his head. “My mother would kill me. My dad wouldn’t be so kind.”
“I guess the rumors about you have been greatly exaggerated,” I say with a smile.
“How would you know about the rumors?”
“I Snoogled you.”
“You what me?”
“Snoop and Googled.” I mime pushing the words together. “Snoogled.”
He nods and smiles… and it’s not one of those ‘placate the crazy chick’ smiles either. “I like that. You can Snoogle me anytime you want… or you can get to know the real me in person, direct from the source. That’s what librarians like, right? First editions… rare finds. Consider me both.”
In that moment, I fall a little in love with Dallas Drake for not making fun of me. “I’ll do it.”
“You’ll help me help Sam out?”
“Yes, and not just because we don’t have to do anything illegal or with snakes in pits either.” I touch his hand and get almost giddy when my skin starts to tingle. “It’s because you have really hot forearms and tried to catch me when I fell.”
“Yeah, I do,” he agrees. “But I didn’t try. I did catch you.”
He leans in closer to me, closing the distance between us.
My pulse pounds.
My skin gets hot.
I lick my lips, wanting to kiss him.
Even more, I want him to kiss me.
The door opens.
“Mr. Drake. So glad you could stop by. I’m Layton Price, events manager for the library.”
I jerk back, sending my chair careening across the room. Layton stops it by grabbing the arm before I crash into the wall. Today is so not my day with office furniture.
“We have tricky office chairs,” she explains, trying to make it look like it’s totally the chair’s fault instead of mine.
“Pretty sure my foot slipped and I accidentally kicked it,” he replies, and I want to swoon. He’s taking the blame. “Sorry about that, Paige.”
“It’s okay.” Who am I to disagree?
He gives me another heart-stopping smile before focusing on Layton. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” Layton gives him a sunny smile. “If you don’t mind, Paige, I’m going to give Mr. Drake a tour of the third floor and see if our space works for his event.”
This is the moment I’ve been dreading. It’s the moment I’m always dreading.
Nine times out of ten, when a guy I’m interested in finally meets Layton—with her perfect curves, poise, clothes, and wavy dark hair—they don’t seem to care she has a steady boyfriend or now wears a diamond engagement ring so big it can be seen from Pluto without a telescope. There’s just something about her they can’t resist and everything about me that is… forgettable.
The only consolation is that Layton is oblivious. Instead, she talks me up, like a best friend should, and trots me out almost like a show pony. I’ve never told her that I notice. Because she’s such a kind person and a true friend, it will always be a secret I keep from her.
“Will you help give me a tour, Paige?” he asks, not even looking her way. He’s not Mr. Wickham from Pride and Prejudice. He’s a total… well, I can’t think of a literary boyfriend who plays football and is completely into the girl no one else is.
I sigh a little. This has to be the most romantic moment ever—possible concussion and all.
Layton glances at me. “Do you have time?” She turns her attention back to Dallas. “Paige’s services are requested so often that I don’t know how she does it all.”
I have to fight the urge to hug her, kiss him, and dance around the room. It’s a lot harder than you think. “At the moment, I’m completely free.”
CHAPTER 6
Dallas
In my experience, people usually say one thing while thinking another. This is not the case with Paige, and I find it… refreshing. Adorable. I never equated quirky with sexy, but after listening to her and watching the way she moves, it’s a total turn on.
As for the asshole who called her a nut job, I’d like to show him exactly what crazy is. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with oral on a first date, to be so fucking cruel is unacceptable.
I can’t imagine hurting Paige—beyond the whole almost making her fall three feet to the floor—like that. Those big blue eyes would fill up with tears, and I’d feel like a total jerk. Hell, when I thought she was hurt and actually crying, all I wanted to do was make it better. Then she laughed, laughed so hard that tears fell, which admittedly, aggravated me for a while… until we talked.
Fucking adorable—it’s the only way I can describe her.
Women like Paige don’t exist in my life. They are too afraid to be themselves because they might be rejected. The faker, the better. The less emotional, the less of a chance of getting hurt. I guess on some level, it’s the same for us players.
Layton stops right in front of the elevator and turns. “Paige, I left my notes in my office. Why don’t you share the history of the Franklin-Hayes House with Dallas while I run back to my office?” She flashes an apologetic smile. “I’m not normally this disorganized, but it’s a Monday and I’m trying to plan a wedding.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Paige says as her friend walks away. “She’s the most organized person in existence.”
“Organized enough to laminate a pocket-sized list for you?”
A pleased smile kicks up the corners of her mouth as she presses the UP button. “You remember that?”
“The requirement about kissing the best man stuck with me.”
The doors of the elevator open slowly, making ominous creaking sounds as they do.
“Don’t worry. It can handle whatever you put in it and go all night long,” she says cheerfully.
“I come with that guarantee too, sweetheart.”
Paige gives me a sideways look as we step inside. “Do
a lot of people put things in you, Dallas?”
“Feels like it sometimes,” I say dryly. “Wasn’t even twenty minutes ago you were putting your elbow in my mouth.”
She winces. “Sorry again.”
I laugh. “It’s really okay. I was just yanking your chain.”
The elevator’s ride is smoother than expected. When the doors open, Paige steps through first, allowing me the privilege of following and ogling her fine ass.
“Do you really want the history of where I work?” she asks, casting a glance over her shoulder. It’s a completely sexy move, yet it’s one that’s not coming across as calculated. “Because if you don’t, I have more questions about dating you.”
“I’ll take questions about dating me for one hundred, Alex.”
She stops in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that’s etched with flowers and forest creatures and turns to face me. Her pretty eyes are serious.
“Is this going to be casual dating or serious dating… or a one-time-until-your-friend-gets-what-he-needs dating?”
“Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
“Do we have to go public and announce it?” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. That is not the look of a woman excited about the prospect of everyone knowing her business, or even one excited about being seen with a guy like me. Women are always excited about going out with me. They take so many fucking selfies that I barely get to enjoy myself.
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, thank God, because Finley can’t know about us. At all.” She steps closer to me, tipping up her chin. Her sweet mouth parts and all I can think about is kissing her, sinking my hands into her hair and finding out if we’re as compatible as I hope we are. “She’s basically made you forbidden man candy.”
“You can lick me all you want in private, sweetheart. I won’t tell.”
Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes start to sparkle. “You say the… I don’t know if I can handle dating you.”
“You like what I say.”
She grins. “I do.”
I take a step closer to her, our bodies nearly touching. “And you can handle every bit of me, too.”
“I can?” Her words are breathless. Music to my ears. The woman is turned on by the thought of licking me. Hell, going by my rapidly swelling dick, I’m turned on because she’s turned on.
“Oh yeah, I’ll show you how.” Carefully, I take her hand in mine and gently turn it over so the palm is facing up. Her fingers are curled inward, so I stroke each one until she fully relaxes her hand. “Look at you… you’re already handling me just fine.”
Her breasts rise and fall with each breath. “You have the magic touch.”
I smirk a little. “So I’ve been told.”
“I read about it when I Snoogled you.”
“That so?”
She nods, her hair sliding forward to rest on top of one of her plump breasts. “I tried to learn as much as possible.”
“How come?” I keep stroking her, keep touching her smooth, satiny skin that’s heating up with each pass. Glancing at her wrist, I can see her pulse pounding and it makes me smile. It makes my formerly bruised ego a new man.
“I like information.”
Interesting and not the answer I was expecting. “Any other reason?”
She licks her lips. Man, I want to bite the bottom one. It’s fuller than the top and softly pink. Perfect for sucking, licking… shit, I have to stay in control. We’re in a library for Pete’s sake. “I wanted to know if it was a good idea to say yes to you… if you were to ask me out again. At the time, I thought it was a long shot, but I have something you want.”
“Yes, you do.”
Her eyes close, then open as she visibly swallows. “I meant the event space.”
“Meant that, too.”
She giggles, then abruptly stops. “Ugh, didn’t mean to laugh at you. Again.”
“Hey, come on now. I like that laugh. Don’t care if it’s because you’re nervous or not. Although, I’d rather you be comfortable with me and laugh at my jokes. I’m fucking funny.”
“And so very modest.”
“I’m the most modest, humble person in existence. Ask anyone.”
This time, a full-on belly laugh makes her tip her head back. The sound echoes in the ballroom.
“I hate that I missed the joke,” Layton says as she walks in, heels clicking against the floor and joining the sound of Paige’s laughter. Her eyes zero in on where I’m holding Paige’s hand, but instead of saying anything, she gives her full attention to her iPad. “I brought the contract with me, Mr. Drake. A little presumptuous, I know. Also, in full discloser, you’ll have to work with Paige more than me because I’m training her to take my place.”
“Temporarily take your place,” Paige says.
Layton smiles tightly. “Exactly.”
“I’ll sign it.”
“That’s wonderful.” Layton shoves the iPad between us. Reluctantly, I let go of Paige’s hand to take the damn thing. “Read through this and sign at the end. A deposit of two hundred dollars is required, with the remainder due the day of the event.”
“If you don’t mind giving me a minute…” While I trust Paige and Layton to be the genuine articles, I don’t sign shit without a lawyer or Finley looking at it first. Walking a few paces away, I grab my phone and call Finley.
She answers on the second ring. “Did you decide?”
“I want to have it at the Franklin-Hayes House, but I’m not signing the contract until you or Caswell looks it over.”
“Already looked it over. Layton sent it to me earlier today. You’re safe to sign.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I end our call, read though the contract anyway, and sign my name with my finger. “Doesn’t look any better when I do it with a pen,” I mutter, but people don’t pay me for my penmanship. I hold up the iPad. “Here you go. All signed. Do you accept credit card payments?”
Layton doesn’t answer right away. She’s too busy talking to Paige, who I’d say looks pretty happy.
“I can take your payment now.” Finley holds up a small square. “You can run it through this, and I can email or text you a receipt for your records.”
“Works for me.” While she crosses the room, with Paige, I put away my cell and get out my wallet. “Can you also email me a copy of the contract?”
“Absolutely.” Layton takes my credit card as soon as I hand it over and runs it through the machine. She nudges Paige. “Once you swipe, you have to hit this button.”
“Okay, then will it ask me for a number or email address?”
“Yes, and you only have to enter it once and the program remembers it for life.”
Paige glances up at me. “I’m sorta in training.”
“Take your time.”
“Number or email?” Paige asks.
I rock back on my heels slightly. “You’ve got my number.”
“Not with me.” A smile plays on her lips. “Do you mind giving it to me again?”
Must remain a gentleman and not say something about giving it to her. I share my number and wait for my phone to buzz with the confirmation. A couple of seconds later, it does.
“Got it.”
“This is for you.” Layton hands over my credit card and the iPad again. “If you’ll type in your email address, I’ll send you a copy of the contract. Also, I’ll need your physical mailing address.”
Quickly, I type everything in and hand the iPad back to her. She passes it off to Paige, whose gaze is still on me.
I wink at her.
She blushes, but doesn’t look away. Those baby blues are all over me. Maybe she’s undressing me in her head. I puff my chest out and broaden my stance a little. Her eyes widen. Yeah, I’m giving her great things to imagine.
“Email me the copy, and I’ll reply back with what you need,” I say.
“Great.” Layton beams at me while Paige fina
lly forces her attention to the screen. “That’s all you need to do, honey.”
“Oh, okay.” A guilty look covers her face. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to hit save or something.”
Was she trying to memorize my email… or my number? On one hand, I’m flattered. On the other, it means she threw mine away.
Or gave it to her coworker, Nolan.
I hope to God she threw it away.
“Is there any way I can get a contact number to schedule meetings with the two of you?” I ask, all innocent.
Paige looks to Layton, who in turn nods at me. “Why don’t you do it since his event date is after the wedding and I’ll be on my honeymoon?”
“Oh, yeah. Right,” Paige replies and looks at me, hesitation in her big eyes. “If you’ll text me after I give it to you, then you can add me as a new contact.”
I whip my phone out so fast I nearly send it flying. So much for having the best hands in the NFL. “Hit me.”
I tap in her number and a short message that will leave no doubt as to who it is, then hit send. “Done. Anything else, ladies?”
“No.” Layton takes a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to my office and send you the contract. Thanks for all your help, Paige.”
“So… are we still on for drinks after you get off work?” I ask once we’re alone again.
“Yup. I did injure you, you know.”
Gingerly, I rub the back of my head, where it’s barely throbbing. “What time do you get off?”
“Six.”
“That’ll give me time to go by Doc’s.”
“Team doctor?” she asks.
“Yeah. It’s a perk to have one available to you twenty-four-seven.” I start to walk back to the elevators. Although I want to stay and keep talking, I also want to make our date. “Text me your address so I can pick you up.”
“How about I meet you instead.” Her suggestion is more of a statement. “I mean, what if it’s serious and you shouldn’t be driving?”
She has a good point, but I’m not going to let a small thing like a concussion get in the way of our date. “I can pick you up in an Uber.”
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