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She was the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time and some asshole left her hanging. From my spot at the bar where I was watching the baseball game on one of the flatscreen TVs while I ate a burger and had a beer, it was obvious she’d been stood up.
It wasn’t the bright yellow of her sundress that caught my eye. It was her blue eyes. No, the full lips with some kind of shiny gloss. No, her toned legs. No, the blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Hell, it was her, the perfect package, that I instantly wanted to get my hands on. While her dress wasn’t painted on, it fit every one of her slim curves to perfection. It was as if God knew every single thing that I craved in the perfect woman and made this one just for me.
My dick knew what it wanted.
I wasn’t the only man in the place checking her out. I could read their thoughts. That a quarter could bounce off that ass. That her tits were small and high and had the creamiest, soft swells above the neckline of her dress.
I swiped my mouth with my napkin wondering which guy I was going to have to fight first. The bartender who winked when he took her order? The trio of cowboys with belt buckles bigger than their brains if they thought they had a shot? Fortunately, the place was busy for trivia night, with many distracted by the game on small tabletop screens.
One guy had the balls to approach, but she shook her head at whatever he was offering and he walked off. Smart man.
Sam, my agent, would be thrilled to know I didn’t make a scene that would be caught on camera and end up on a social media site and go viral. I had enough problems with that already.
My friend, Mark, saw her, too. From beside me, he stood, ready to shoot his shot next. No fucking way.
I grabbed his arm, yanked him back onto his stool.
He glared at me. “What?”
“Not a chance,” I snarled, having no issue with doing what it took to keep him away from her. “She’s mine.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Oh yeah.”
He shrugged, finished his beer in one swallow, then stood again. “Fine. You know what you’re doing. I’ll text you later.”
I sighed when he left. I didn’t want him anywhere near her.
She sat alone for five minutes. Ten. She was at a nearby high-top slowly working her way through a glass of wine watching the entrance.
Each time the door swung open, she sat up straighter, only for her to slump when it wasn’t who she waited for. She checked her cell for either a message or the time or both.
I didn’t know who the fucker was, but I wanted him to show up so I could drag him by the collar out back and beat the shit out of him for making the woman’s shoulders slump even for a second. Then I wanted to slap him on the back and thank him for losing her before he ever had a chance. This woman needed a man who was going to be present. Who’d treat her like a fucking queen.
She stood and moved to the only open spot at the bar. Right next to me at the end. She raised her hand, and the bartender came right over. “I’ll pay my tab.”
He dropped the slip in front of her and before she could touch it, I tossed a twenty on top of it.
“The guy’s an asshole,” I told her. “Doesn’t deserve you.”
She looked to me. Blinked those pretty blue eyes. Shit, she had freckles I hadn’t seen before. Her gaze met mine, then raked over me. I was used to people looking at me. Ogling. Being photographed. Hounded. Being famous meant I had eyes on me all the time.
Even here, wearing a ball cap and sitting in the corner, a few patrons recognized me, but thankfully no one approached. The perk of a small town in Montana. Around here, people left you the fuck alone when all you wanted a burger and a ballgame. Exactly why I was here for a few weeks. Peace and quiet and to let the media shit with Lacey die down. Despite what she said, my co-star and I weren’t in a relationship. We never had been. I never touched her other than how it was written in the script. Sure, on-screen sex scenes–even ones for TV–looked realistic, but they were totally fake. Thirty people were around us while filming and I had on gym shorts under the bed sheet, no matter how naked the camera made me look. I refused to put on that modesty wear shit that made you look naked. But Lacey had fed the relationship rumor to the press to raise her visibility.
The only woman I was interested in stood beside me. It was my new goal to make her lose every bit of self-doubt and have all the orgasms I could give her. If I had my way, she’d never question her value again.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper. Her eyes held confusion, not recognition.
“The guy you were waiting for,” I said. “He wasn’t worth your time. Dump his ass.”
The bartender swiped up the tab and the twenty. “What he said,” he told her, then walked off to help another customer.
She took a deep breath, sighed. “How do you know I’m waiting for a man?” she wondered.
I raked my gaze down her body. “You wouldn’t put on a dress like that for girl’s night. You had plans that involved some guy taking it off of you. With his teeth.”
