My clients pay me enough to guarantee they have my undivided attention when I’m sitting in front of them or chatting with them on the phone.
Gunner is the go-to if a problem crops up during my one-on-one client time. His gaze drifted to the screen of his phone only once during brunch. He didn’t make eye contact with me after he read the text message that popped up, so it wasn’t vital.
I scroll through the log of missed calls and text messages.
There’s nothing from Eden.
It’s closing in on one p.m. now. I can swing by the dry cleaners, pick up her pressed skirt and shirt, and put them back in her hands.
I type out a quick text to her.
Dylan: Thanks for taking the time to say goodbye this morning.
Her reply is quick.
Eden: Do I detect a hint of sarcasm? Does someone feel used?
The sad face emoji she tacks onto the end of the message draws a laugh from me.
I catch the eye of a woman standing a couple of feet away from me.
Normally, convenience like this wouldn’t go unappreciated by me. I’d strike up a conversation and suggest we go into the restaurant for a drink. By mid-afternoon, we’d be back at my place.
She tosses her light brown hair over her shoulder with a wave of her fingers.
I respond with a brisk nod and a drop of my eyes to my phone’s screen.
Dylan: You can use me whenever the hell you want. Now is good.
Eden: I’m working on destroying your client’s reputation, but I’m available tonight.
The scent of cloying sweet perfume catches my attention.
I turn my head to find the woman I noticed moments ago, standing next to me.
“I’m Kim.” She extends a hand with bright red fingernails.
I ignore it. “I’m leaving.”
Her mouth pouts into a scowl. “My loss.”
I leave it at that, brushing past her to make my way down the crowded sidewalk.
Before I can respond to Eden’s text, she’s sent another.
Eden: Did you get my clothes back from the drycleaners?
The drycleaners is my next stop before I put in a few hours at the office.
Dylan: Your blouse and skirt will be waiting for you at my place tonight. Does 8 work for you?
Eden: Eight works. What do I owe you for the dry cleaning?
I stop to wait for a crossing light.
Dylan: A picture of you in whatever the hell you ran out of my place wearing.
By the time the light changes she still hasn’t replied.
She didn’t take the dress shirt she had on last night, and my belt was still where I left it on the floor of my bedroom.
My phone chimes when I turn the corner toward the subway station.
I drop my gaze to the screen and the picture attached to the simple message she sent.
Eden: I found this in your closet.
“Jesus.” I breathe out on a heavy sigh. I wasn’t expecting this.
It’s obvious that she’s sitting on a bed.
Her beautiful legs are in view. The picture only captures the bottom half of the jersey she’s wearing. The hem hits her mid-thigh.
I wore that football jersey in every game I played in high school.
My dad brought it to New York in a clear garment bag right after I bought my apartment. I told him to take it back home, but he insisted on hanging it in my walk-in closet. He told me I’d thank him one day when I had a son who wanted to pick up the game.
It all went back to the fact that I wore his high school football jersey when I was a twelve-year-old kid tossing the ball with him on Sunday afternoons.
I haven’t looked at my old jersey in years. It didn’t mean anything to me until now.
Another message pops up on my screen.
Eden: You’ll have to earn it back, Colt.
I’m instantly hard. I don’t want the damn thing back. I want her to wear it, sleep in it, keep it.
I type back a simple response.
Dylan: We’ll talk terms tonight.
Eden: I can’t wait.
Chapter 23
Eden
Butterflies flit in my stomach as I approach Dylan’s building.
I’ve been thinking about him all day. It’s impossible not to.
We had another incredible night last night.
After we made love, we both fell asleep. I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.
Dylan didn’t budge so I unraveled myself from his arms and sought out my purse.
The call was from Noelle. She was worried that I wasn’t home, and since she hadn’t been able to reach me for hours, she stopped sending unanswered text messages and called me instead.
I could hear the anxiety in her voice. I knew it wasn’t all about me being MIA, so I took to Dylan’s closet to find something to wear home.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted his old high school football jersey.
I slid it on over my bra and panties and left his apartment.
The look on Noelle’s face when I finally got home was one for the record books.
She didn’t ask anything after getting a glimpse of the name stitched on the back of the jersey.
COLT.
We spent the next two hours talking about her dad, her work, and a cute guy she met on the subway.
We finally called it a night at three a.m., but not before promising each other that we’d have dinner together this coming week.
I slow as I get closer to Dylan’s building when I spot his familiar frame standing outside the doors with his back to me.
The man can work a pair of jeans and a black sweater just as well as a tailored suit.
I’m glad I opted for casual tonight too. I’m wearing faded, ripped jeans and a black blouse. I don’t want a repeat of last night’s saucy mess, so I choose a dark color to camouflage any potential food clumsiness on my part.
“Dylan,” I call out his name.
He turns instantly, a bright smile taking over his gorgeous mouth.
His phone is to his ear. I watch as he says something I can’t quite make out before he tucks the phone in the front pocket of his jeans.
He rakes me over. “Great minds think alike.”
I laugh. “You can’t go wrong with jeans and a black blouse for a date.”
The last word floats off my lips so effortlessly.
We’re going on a date. I’m on a date with Dylan Colt.
“Or a black sweater.” He pinches the front of his V-neck sweater. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” I confess, rubbing my stomach. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
I wait for the expected comment about him not eating pussy all day. It was one of his tried and true lines when he was eighteen.
My reaction would always be the same. I’d grimace and shoo him away with a swat of my hand on his shoulder. Secretly, I longed to feel his mouth on me. I envied every girl who had been with him.
“I made a reservation.” He gestures down the sidewalk. “It’s just a block over.”
I don’t bother asking what we’ll be eating, because I don’t care.
The details don’t matter.
What matters is the way he’s looking down at me. It’s the same way he looked at me when I was seventeen, and he was the boy I wanted more than anything in the world.
***
“Pancakes for dinner might be the best thing ever.” I laugh as we exit what can only be described as an elegant breakfast retreat.
It’s a tiny place just off Park Avenue that serves decadent breakfast staples to a discerning dinner crowd.
There’s no jacket or tie requirement and you won’t find an imported bottle of beer there.
We sipped on mimosas and ate the most delicious pancakes slathered in berries and a bourbon maple syrup glaze.
Candied bacon was the side.
I’m stuffed and happier than I’ve been in a long time.
“It’s one of my favorit
e places in the city.” Dylan turns to face me. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
Something sparks inside of me.
Joy or relief, maybe it’s the satisfaction of knowing that he chose to share a special place with me.
“They need to open a location in Buffalo.” I laugh. “I’d never have to cook for myself again.”
His brow furrows. “Do you live alone?”
I nod. “It’s just me. No cats or dogs. No birds. Absolutely no roommates.”
He chuckles. “Your dad used to say that he expected you to take care of him when he retired. I always pictured him living under the same roof as you once he gave up coaching. Did he settle in Buffalo too?”
It’s been years, but some grief can’t be measured in time. It burrows into a spot inside of you and never leaves. That’s how it was for me. How it still is.
“My dad died,” I manage to say in a soft voice. “He’s gone.”
Dylan’s hand darts to his mouth. His eyes widen in shocked disbelief. “What? When?”
“Three years ago.” I look up at the lights of the city trying to find my center.
I still cry but only on days that remind me of him. His birthday, my birthday, the day my mom died when I was ten-years-old.
He never fully recovered from her death. At times, he’d wish that cancer would claim him too. It did.
“How?” Dylan’s head is shaking back and forth in denial.
Every player on my dad’s team had a place in his heart. Dylan was included in that. They may not have always seen eye-to-eye, but my dad would have done anything for Dylan. He saw potential in him and all the boys on the team.
“Cancer,” I give the short answer because the details of the treatments, the suffering, and the last agonizing months aren’t important to anyone but me.
I was an only child.
“Eden.” His hands leap to my face. He cradles it in his palms as he gazes into my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallow back the urge to cry. I see the same pain in his eyes that I felt when the doctor told me that my dad was gone. I was holding his hand. I heard the unmistakable sound of the monitor when his heart stopped, but still, I hoped.
I prayed for a miracle that never came.
“I wish I would have known,” he says on a heavy exhale. “Fuck. I should have known about this.”
“You know now,” I offer quietly. “He always told me to remember the good times. He’d want you to do the same thing.”
His gaze drops to the sidewalk. “He was an incredible man. One of the best.”
He was. He was my hero. He’ll always be.
Chapter 24
Dylan
Coach Conrad is gone.
The earth kept spinning after he checked out. How the hell is that possible?
The man was a force of nature, unlike any I’ve known before or since.
He was committed to raising his daughter with caring guidance and a trusting heart. He loved Eden more than anything, but he gave her room to find out who she was and where she fit in the world.
He did the same for me.
He never held back an opinion regardless of how much it bit into the self-esteem of the person it was directed at.
He was compassionate in his delivery of criticism, but he expected the best from everyone in his path.
Coach made me a better man.
“What do you want to do now?” Eden tugs at the front of my sweater.
I know she’s trying to ease me back to reality. The news of her dad’s death is hitting me hard.
I feel the loss of someone who once mattered greatly to me, but more than that, I feel for her.
Her dad was her rock. He kept her anchored to her dreams and her future.
“What do you want to do?” I tilt her head up with a finger to her chin.
“Dance,” she says in a whispered tone. “I want to dance.”
I tug her into my arms. “Here?”
She looks around at the people passing us by on the sidewalk. It’s Saturday night in New York City. The streets are filled with folks out looking for a good time.
“Here?” she parrots back with a giggle. “There’s no music.”
I start to sway us back and forth. “Since when do you need music to dance?”
Her arms curl around my neck. “Good point.”
I twirl her in a circle, luring a breathy moan from her lips.
“I know a place we can dance,” I offer. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Is it your apartment?” Her eyes narrow. “Does it involve taking off our clothes?”
“There’s an idea I can get behind.” My hand glides down to tap the top of her ass. “Or a behind I want to get behind.”
“Dylan.” My name slips from her lips in a purr. “There is plenty of time for that later.”
“We have all night.” I slide my lips over hers, savoring the sweet taste of her. “Tonight, you won’t run and hide when I fall asleep.”
“I’m not making any promises.”
I lean in again, brushing my lips over her ear. “I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”
Her breath stutters for a second before she moves back to look into my eyes. “Take me dancing first.”
I’ll give her anything she wants. “Follow me.”
Her hand slips into mine, and we start down the street toward an experience I know she’ll never forget.
***
We exit the Uber just off Columbus Avenue on the Upper West Side.
Eden’s gaze volleys from left to right. I know that she’s trying to figure out where the hell I’m taking her.
“This way,” I say, reaching for her hand.
I guide her down the street of businesses shuttered for the night. A few remain open luring patrons in with signs promising the best cup of coffee in the city, or cocktails for half price.
Once we reach our destination, I turn to face her.
Questions are dancing in her eyes. She trusts me. At least, I hope to fuck she does.
“I had a feeling you’d want to dance tonight, so I made some arrangements.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. “We’ll dance as many dances as you want. We can stay as late as you like, but once we leave, we’re going back to my place.”
Her gaze jumps to the non-descript dark green door behind me. It’s tucked between a shoe store and a flower shop. Both have closed signs hanging in their windows.
The green door leads down a flight of stairs to a spot that I discovered a year ago when I was asked by the owner to meet him here to talk about his crumbling marriage.
A month later, he opted for counseling instead of divorce. I didn’t charge him a dime for the three consultations we had. In exchange, he gave me his word that he’d return the favor whenever I needed it.
I needed it tonight, so I gave him a call earlier.
“Agreed.” Eden sighs. “Where exactly are we going?”
I rap on the door three times with my fist before I lock eyes with her. “You’re about to find out.”
Chapter 25
Eden
Charming doesn’t begin to describe this place.
Our flight down a steep staircase brought us to an intimate club. No more than two-dozen people could fit in here at any time, but tonight it’s almost empty.
There’s a bartender in a flowered patterned vest and matching bowtie behind a sleek glass bar. Her red hair is tugged up into a tight ponytail. Her eye makeup is dramatic.
On a stage that lines the wall opposite the bar are four men. All are dressed alike in black vests and bowties. White dress shirts and black pants complete their muted look.
The quartet is playing a soft jazz tune. The dance floor directly in front of them is vacant. Every small circular wooden table is empty except for one. There’s a man with salt and pepper hair sitting next to it in a chair. An amber colored liquid fills half a glass tumbler on the table in front of him.
I glance back to see if the man who ope
ned the green door is behind us, but he’s not. He must not have followed us down the stairs after he locked the door once we entered.
“Billy,” Dylan calls out. “I didn’t think you’d hang around.”
The man at the table turns and smiles. It’s so wide and genuine that it’s disarming. Crow’s feet pinch at the corners of his brown eyes.
“Dylan Colt,” he says, rising to his feet. “You made it.”
“Was there any doubt I would?” Dylan reaches for Billy’s hand as he approaches us.
Billy takes it for a quick shake before his palm is pointed in my direction. “You must be Eden. You’re more beautiful than Dylan described.”
I shake his hand, smiling at him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re a dancer.” His tone is soft. “I hope you find our dance floor acceptable.”
I glance past him to the parquet wood floor. Every inch of this club is exquisite. It’s obvious from the detailed woodwork on the archways that it was built more than a lifetime ago.
“I think it will be perfect,” I say sincerely. “I can’t wait to take a spin.”
Billy’s gaze centers on me. “I won’t keep you. Drink as much as you like. Dance until your legs give out. Everything is on the house.”
Dylan raises his hand in protest. “No, Billy. I’ll cover the cost of your staff. You closed down the place tonight just for us. I know that’s costing you a pretty penny.”
He brushes Dylan’s comments off with a shake of his head. “You saved my marriage. That’s priceless. Consider this my thank you gift to you.”
Just as I look up at Dylan, he looks down at me. “I’m not always the bad guy. Sometimes a marriage is worth saving.”
He read my mind or my expression. He knew that I would wonder what Billy was talking about.
“Mine was worth saving.” Billy wiggles his ring finger at me. The lights above us catch the diamonds in the thick gold band that circles his finger. “Our twenty-eighth anniversary is next month.”
“Congratulations,” I offer with a smile. “That’s amazing.”
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