by Tess Summers
Ben grinned and handed Sloane the greeting card from his jacket. “You cheap bastard. I knew I spent too much on your engagement gift.”
Taking the card with one hand and gripping Ben’s shoulder tight with the other, Sloane smiled broadly. “You being here is the only present I need, buddy. Thanks for coming.”
Ben could tell his presence meant a lot to his friend, and he was genuinely glad he hadn’t bailed. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Come on, I want you to meet my girlf—damn, I mean my fiancée. Shit, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Sloane said with a smile and shake of his head, as if he still couldn’t believe that he was getting married.
They approached a group engaged in a spirited conversation, and Ben’s heart dropped when he saw who Sloane was headed toward.
His Corvette beauty.
Her back was to them, and she was shifting her weight back and forth on her hips as she talked with her hands. Her wavy jet black hair was longer than he’d realized, and the tight yellow pencil skirt accentuated her narrow waist and outlined her delicious ass. Ben had to consciously tell his dick to sit the fuck down. Not cool to get a hard-on over your buddy’s future wife, he chided the member of his body that seemed to have a mind of its own tonight.
When Sloane wrapped his arm around the waist of a petite pixie-haired blonde who was talking to Yellow Skirt, it took a second for Ben to register that the black-haired woman was not Sloane’s fiancée. Then his dick also got the memo, and couldn’t have been happier.
Sloane pulled his bride-to-be away from the group and toward Ben. “Babe, this is my friend, Ben. Ben, my girlfr—fiancée, Hannah.”
He could tell by the grin on Sloane’s face that this time his error was on purpose, to get a rise out of Hannah. Ben liked her immediately when she didn’t take the bait, instead dishing it right back. She shook Ben’s hand and said with a sly smile, “So nice to meet you. Any friend of my boyfr—I mean, fiancé is a friend of mine.”
Knowing she was onto him only made Sloane smile wider. He cupped her face, leaned down, and kissed her tenderly and thoroughly, without any hint of apology for his very open display of affection.
It hit Ben in the gut.
That. That right there was what had been missing in his and Margo’s relationship—any relationship he’d ever been in, in fact. He watched his friend reluctantly pull away and stare at his future wife like she was the most perfect woman on the planet—and Ben realized that, to Sloane, she was. Hannah stared back at Sloane with the same exact expression, putting a wistful smile on Ben’s face.
Was he jealous? He didn’t think so—he was genuinely happy for them, but he couldn’t help but think he wanted what they had, at least someday. He’d realized he’d never looked at a woman that way. Maybe when he finally did, that would be how he’d know she was the one he wanted for the rest of his life. He wasn’t settling until he found that.
He glanced at Yellow Skirt, and his shameless cock decided that Ms. Right-Now would do just fine for tonight, though. Now to convince her of that.
He recognized one of the men in the circle his Ms. Right-Now was talking with. Matt Moore had run with the same crowd as he and Sloane had in high school. Hard to believe some of their friendships were over twenty years old. Matt was a good guy; Ben saw him on occasion around town, and he often gave business to Matt’s welding shop. Matt had always been quite the ladies’ man, and the last Ben had heard, he was in the middle of a divorce with wife number three. After the stories Matt had told him about the custody battle with wife number two, Ben wondered what the hell he’d been thinking when he walked down the aisle the third time.
Matt must have sensed Ben looking at him, because he looked over and waved when he spotted Ben. Perfect; here was his in to join the group.
Beaming, Matt grasped his hand hard before pulling him into a hug. “How the hell are you, man? Good to see you!”
Ben rubbed his jaw while nodding at Matt’s new goatee. “That’s new. I like it.”
Matt scratched at his chin and gestured toward Ben’s full beard. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”
That made Ben laugh, and he clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Ben managed to look over at Yellow Skirt, who was watching the exchange between the two men. She was fucking beautiful. Her bright blue eyes were a startling contrast to her ink-black hair, which he had a sudden urge to grab a fistful of. Her lips were painted a deep red that would look perfect wrapped around his cock, which was now practically jumping up and down, shouting, “Pick me! Pick me!”
And her tits.
Fuck.
Yeah.
She was probably a C cup, maybe a B. They looked perfect in her patterned white, black, and yellow silk blouse that hugged them just right. Her subtle cleavage was beckoning him to undo some buttons for a better look.
When she smiled at him, he gave his perfected panty-removing grin in return.
It must have worked because she opened her mouth to say something, but then a beautiful blonde woman approached from the side and caught her in a hug.
“Ava!” his siren exclaimed, holding the blonde woman at arm’s length. Then, pointedly noting her friend’s pregnant belly, she pulled her back in for another hug. A tall, dark-haired man in an obviously custom-made suit stood next to the pregnant woman with one hand in his pocket.
“You are the most adorable pregnant woman I’ve ever seen! No wonder Travis keeps knocking you up,” the raven-haired hottie gushed.
Travis chuckled. “I think this is our last one.”
“Aw, only three?”
“Three’s plenty,” the mama-to-be replied. She had one hand on her stomach and the other on her back, obviously uncomfortable.
Her husband looked adoringly at her, then drew his attention to the woman in the yellow skirt.
“I’m going to take my wife home now so she can put her feet up, and I can dote on her. But come by my office on Monday; I wanted to talk to you about that offer you advised your client to reject.”
The dark-haired woman stood tall and pulled her shoulders back, consciously or sub-consciously shifting into professional mode.
“Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. It caught my eye this afternoon, and I’m curious.”
“I’ll be there first thing,” she said confidently.
“Not too early,” he said, winking at the blonde next to him. “I’m on daycare drop-off duty Monday morning.”
“Ten thirty okay?”
The man nodded. With his hand on the small of his wife’s back, he said, “Have a great weekend, Harper.”
The two women hugged again, and as the couple was walking away, Harper called out, “I miss you, Ava Sterling! Let’s have lunch soon!”
If Ben had been paying attention to anything more than how hot the woman was, he might have figured out a lot more than the fact that her first name was Harper.
Chapter Three
Harper Finch
The mountain of a man had a Jason Momoa vibe going on, if Jason Momoa had short, cropped hair on the sides with a longer, tousled look on top and a trimmed beard. His twinkling eyes were full of mischief, and they were one hundred percent focused on her.
It was hot, and definitely welcome, and frankly, a little intimidating—not an easy feat when it came to Harper.
She worked hard and her accomplishments were well-earned. On her thirty-first birthday, she’d been put on the junior partner track at Carson, Burns, Sterling, and Cooper; she was promoted before she turned thirty-two. She’d proven she could play with the big boys—and girls—and was normally cool as a cucumber. But this guy had set loose a bag of butterflies in her stomach, and they’d barely spoken.
It was so not like her.
“Ben McCallister,” he said, offering his hand when he saw he had her full attention again.
“Harper Finch.”
His smile made the lines around his hazel eyes crinkle, and it made her toes ting
le. Who is this guy?
“So are you a friend of Hannah’s or Sloane’s?” she asked. Anything to keep from staring into his eyes like a lovestruck idiot.
“I’ve known Sloane since middle school. I’m guessing you’re a friend of Hannah’s?”
“I work with her.”
He nodded thoughtfully. His intense gaze on her was disarming. It felt like he could read her thoughts. Her cheeks flooded red at the idea of him knowing what she was thinking about him.
They sat down at a nearby high-top table and started talking nonstop, effectively leaving Matt alone with her colleague, Kim. Neither seemed to mind.
She appreciated that he didn’t ask her the usual, ‘So, what do you do?’ and its follow-up questions—i.e., what can you do for me. Instead he seemed focused on what she liked to do. She reciprocated, and they soon discovered they had a lot in common. At first, she suspected he had only been agreeing with her to make it seem that way, but when he started talking about concerts and movies without her bringing them up, she knew that wasn’t the case.
He gestured to her almost-empty glass.
“What are you drinking, Harper Finch?”
She loved how her name sounded in his deep voice.
Be cool, Harper.
Except she couldn’t. There was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel… special. How silly was that? She’d just met him, for goodness sake. But she wanted to know more about this man.
“Chardonnay, thanks.”
“Come on,” he said with a jerk of his head toward the bar. “Come with me.”
Ben took her hand and led her through the room to where the open bar was; the simple feeling of her small hand being possessively held by his large one was foreign and wonderful all at once. His hand was calloused—a working man’s. Harper was surrounded daily by powerful, white-collar men whose hands were probably softer than hers; she knew some even got manicures. She found the contrast of Ben’s rough hands masculine and sexy, and began wondering what they would feel like caressing her body. She also noticed the second glances—from people she both knew and didn’t—at seeing the two of them together. She’d admit he wasn’t her usual type, and she probably wasn’t his, but none of that seemed to matter right now.
They reached the bar and he released her fingers, only to move his palm to the small of her back. She loved the possessiveness of it. He ordered a wine for her and a beer for himself.
They’d just gotten their drinks when the groom-to-be appeared at their side. “I was only kidding about the Maker’s Mark.”
Ben laughed. “It’s okay, I’ve got the bike tonight so I’ll be switching to soda after this one anyway.”
She needed to do the same. No way was she leaving her car here tonight and taking an Uber.
“Hey, I’ve been bragging about your work,” Sloane told her companion. “Come over and say hello to some of our old classmates. Maybe it’ll drum up some more business for you.”
The burly man shook his head. “Business is good, thanks. I think I’m just going to hang out with Harper tonight.”
“Come say hello, man. Five minutes…”
She could tell Ben was going to object, so she put her hand on his forearm.
“Go talk to them. I need to go mingle a little myself. We can talk again later.”
He eyed her suspiciously, then pulled out his phone and handed it to her.
“Put your number in, and I’ll text you so you have mine. Then we can contact each other if we need help.”
Harper was used to parties like these. She waved her hand at him and said, “I’ll be fine.”
He eyed the group that Sloane wanted him to make an appearance with. “You might be, but I’m having my doubts.”
That made her giggle, and she took the phone and plugged her number in. Harper suspected it was probably just a ploy to get her number, but she didn’t care. She was happy to give it to him.
Her purse started buzzing immediately, and he smiled. “Just checking,”
He looked over at the group and sighed, as if they were wolves and he was a deer about to walk into their den. Judging by the looks some of the women were giving him, maybe he wasn’t too far off in his assessment.
The young attorney eventually ended up at the bar laughing with Claire Monroe, one of her colleagues from work. They’d had one too many martinis, thanks to the hottie in the ripped jeans and tight t-shirt across the bar who kept sending them over, smiling at Claire each time he raised his glass at them. Harper wasn’t impressed, considering it was an open bar, but she didn’t want to rain on her friend’s parade. He at least seemed to be tipping the bartender well, because their glasses were never empty, and they never had to ask for refills.
“Do you think he’s waiting to get us drunk before he decides to come over and talk to us?” Claire giggled over the rim of her glass.
“No, I think he’s waiting to get you drunk before he decides to come over and talk to you.”
“God, I hope he doesn’t wait too long. I might be passed out or puking if he doesn’t hurry up already.”
Harper shrugged. “So go talk to him.”
“I can’t do that!” Claire gasped. Then in the next breath, she whispered conspiratorially, “You think I should?”
“Why not?”
Claire cast a glance at Hottie McHotterson, and found him smiling back at her. “What would I say?”
“Start with ‘hi’ and go from there.” Harper grinned. “Tell him thanks for the drinks but now you need a ride home.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I can’t let him take me home!”
Harper was enjoying teasing her inebriated friend. “Why not? When was the last time you got laid?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” a deep voice whispered in her ear, making her nipples pebble and her skin break out in goosebumps.
Chapter Four
Ben
He had kept Harper in his sights the whole time they’d been separated, and was secretly relieved that the asshole sending drinks to her and her girlfriend seemed interested in her friend. He had to fight the urge to throw her over his shoulder and walk out the door with her. As he watched her at the bar, it dawned on Ben that he was viewing her as relationship material; he wanted to go slow and get to know her. Turning into a caveman after barely meeting her was probably not the best way to go about it. But looking at her in that outfit, he had to admit, the caveman option was tempting.
Ben was standing at the other end of the bar with Jenna Silverman and her new husband, James, along with the cliquey group Jenna had hung out with in high school. This part of networking was tough to stomach. The girls had been bitches in high school, and now they were bitchy women—bitchy women with cars that needed maintenance, he reminded himself. So he stood there listening to them drone on about how ah-mazing the newest restaurant in town was and how Jenna wasn’t speaking to Briana because Briana had served GMO food at her last dinner party even though Katelyn had stressed that her husband Stuart could only eat non-GMO, and to top it all off, gasp! it wasn’t even organic!
Oh, sweet Jesus. Their business is not worth this nightmare. His fucking head hurt.
When he saw Harper stand, albeit wobbly, from her barstool, he excused himself from the group.
He arrived just in time to hear her ask her friend when the last time was she’d gotten laid. He couldn’t resist.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he growled in her ear, and slid his hands down her hips like they had a mind of their own.
He tried not to stare at her stiff nipples when she slowly turned around with a coy smile. “That’s classified information.”
“How do I get clearance?”
She leaned into Ben’s chest and lifted her chin toward his ear, like she was about to tell him a secret, but didn’t say anything.
“Well?” Ben asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Hmm, well…” She leaned even closer, pressing against him and making his coc
k hard. “I think you could…” She breathed in his ear. “Buy me a cheeseburger.”
He felt her chest against his as he shook with laughter. She was too damn adorable.
“I think that’s a great idea. You ready to go?”
She nodded her head quickly, and he could tell she was tipsy. No way was he putting her on the back of his bike.
“How about I drive your car?”
She frowned dramatically.
“No one gets to drive Cary Grant but me.”
“You named your car Cary Grant?”
“Of course. Is there anyone more classic and timeless than Cary Grant? I think not. Is there any car more timeless and classic than mine? Absolutely not. Hence, Cary Grant.”
Ben chuckled. “I guess that makes perfect sense. So, how about you let me drive to the restaurant, and when you’ve sobered up, you can drive me back here.”
“For the record, I’m not that drunk, but I wouldn’t risk driving right now. And I really want a cheeseburger, so…” She handed him her valet ticket and looped her arm through his. “We should probably say goodbye to Sloane and Hannah first.”
Ben liked how she felt next to him, and they easily fell into step as they went to look for the future bride and groom. When they found them, they were met with approving looks and smiles.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Hannah remarked after they said they were leaving.
“We actually just met tonight,” Harper responded with a sideways smile at Ben.
“Ben’s a great guy,” Sloane said, like he was vouching for his friend.
“We’re going to go grab a cheeseburger,” Ben quickly added, feeling the need to protect her honor. He didn’t want anyone gossiping about them, even if part of him really wanted to do scandalous things to Harper Finch the first night meeting her.
“And maybe dessert,” she added. He didn’t know her well enough to tell if there was innuendo implied.
Sloane chuckled, obviously thinking there was.
“Well, thanks for coming, you two,” Sloane said, extending his hand then pulling Ben in for a hug. His fiancée did the same with Harper, then they switched so everyone was hugged goodbye.
