“Cool, then don't turn around now” he tells me on a laugh. And it's like a god damned car crash, you can't not look. So, what do I do? I casually look over my shoulder and stop in my tracks. All the air in my lungs whooshes out because at the door to Father's is Angel. My. Fucking. Angel.
My fucking Angel from that hospital in New York. I would recognize all that blonde hair and big blue eyes anywhere. Not to mention full, dark pink lips that you know would be good for kissing and….other things. And, hello, she has been hiding a dynamite body under those awful scrubs. I hope she burns every last pair. She looks like one of those pinup girls from the old movies my mom likes to watch. And looking at her in tight jeans and a slinky pink tank top, I can't help but agree. Shit, I'm hard. Like the steel rod in my spine, hard. That's totally not awkward or anything since I'm sitting in a bar with my two best buddies. Ugh. I run a hand down my face and think of baseball. Nope, still hard. Shit.
Did she come here for me? I can't help but like that feeling. Holt puts his hand up to wave her over and she starts in our direction. My palms are sweaty and I'm a little nervous. I never thought I would see her again. Not that I didn't think of looking her up at that hospital she worked at every night when I had my dick in my own hand, but part of me didn't want her to remember me like the sad, broken man I was. I figured it would be better to leave her in my fantasies.
“Mind switching seats with me, man?” Holt asks. When pigs fucking fly, asshole.
“Over my dead body,” I growl. “She's mine. My angel.” I want to beat my fists against my chest. And those two morons just laugh.
“Hey, guys,” she says as she stops to hug Sam and Holt. What the actual fuck is happening here. I clear my throat and she looks at me. They all look at me. “Hello, I'm Angie,” she says holding her hand out to me. I take it and lean in close. God, she smells good. Like honey and oranges. I'm so hard I could break glass. I realize I've held her hand too long when she yanks it back.
“I'm Cody,” I tell her.
“This is Cody Reynolds, the head football coach, retired NFL player for New York, and Super Bowl champ,” Sam tells her but she just looks confused. Sam is clearly enjoying the fact that she has no idea who I am and that's fine. She will.
“Oh, you're Jim's son?” Well, if that doesn't chafe. So much for her being in this town for me. But she will be. She just doesn't know it yet. But she will be.
“Yeah, I am,” I smile at her.
“Mind if I sit down?” She asks me in a breathy voice. And shit if I didn't almost come in my pants like a kid. Nodding, I scoot over so she can sit down. But not so far over that she has actual room. Nope, I am a big enough bastard that I left just enough room for her curvy ass so that her thigh has to be pressed to mine. Muahahaha. Insert evil villain laugh here. There's not even enough room on the seat for her purse, but she's polite so she just sets it on the floor next to her.
“What'll it be guys?” Katy asks us. “The usual?”
“What's the usual?” Angel asks.
“The biggest pizza we have with more meat on it than in a zoo, three dozen hot wings and a pitcher of beer,” Katy laughs. Clearly amused with our disgusting man habits.
“Sounds amazing. Count me in too,” she says, and I admire her confidence, no side salad for this one. Plus, my new life goal is to make sure she in takes enough calories to maintain that fantastic ass. Which is what I'm leaning back looking at when I hear Sam clear his throat. I look up and see his eyes are crinkled, his chest shaking as he silently laughs at me. Holt is mirroring Sam's hilarity. Bastards.
I can't stop looking at her. She's so god damn gorgeous. I wonder if she'd go out with me. I wonder what she looks like naked. I'm imagining what she looks like riding my cock, her full breasts bouncing in my face as she throws her head back when she comes. Jesus, I could come just thinking about what she looks like when she comes.
“Can I help you?” She asks me, a little annoyed. “Is there something on my face? Oh, God. Do I have a booger in my nose?” And nope, no, there is definitely nothing I can tell her in polite company right now. I feel my embarrassment at being caught burn across my tanned cheeks. I look over and those bastards' eyes are twinkling. Shit, they know what I was thinking.
“No, no. Nothing like that,” I reassure her. Slightly. But what am I supposed to say?You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No. I was wondering what you look like when you come.No, again. Shit, I'm such a creeper. “I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime.” There, I bit the bullet. I asked her out. I can feel how sweaty my pits are. Shit I hope I don't smell. When was the last time I was this hung up on a girl I really don't even know? If ever? I smell trouble, but my dick doesn't care.
“Let me get this straight, I don't know you, I work for your dad, you barely say two words to me the whole night over dinner, but sit there and creepily stare at me like a stalker and then you ask me out?” She asks, point blank. I can admire her candor. It's pretty sexy if I do say so myself.
“Yeah, that about sums it up,” I tell her. Shit, she thinks I'm a loser. Which I am. What other fucker gets creamed at the end of the Super Bowl only to have his fiancée leave him for being a cripple and then hook up with the quarter back on the same team? A fucking loser, that's who. And a quick google search on her phone will confirm all of that so… She's studying my face and I hope to God she's kind when she shoots me down in front of my friends. I see the pitying looks on their faces and I know they see the same thing. Indifference, and then rejection in hers. My dick starts to wilt.
“Okay. When?” She asks. Shocking the shit out of all three of us. And just like that he pops right back up. We're back in the game, buddy, hang in there!
“What?” We all ask at the same time. She's not bothered at all by our moronic nature.
“When would you like to go out? I'd love to have someone show me the town. Aunt Mable just wants to hang out at the beauty shop, but I'm about forty years too young for that crowd,” she says honestly, laughing softly. It's the best sound I have ever heard in the whole world. Shit. I'm such a loser.
“Is now too soon?” I ask and see Sam and Holt cringe. Too strong? Shit. I'm rusty. “How about Saturday night? We can grab dinner and drive around,” I ask her.
“Great. It's a date,” she smiles at me. Holy shit. I'm taking my angel to dinner on Saturday night. My mind starts to spin.
