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Chapter 7
Gaige
When I walked out of this place this morning, I told myself I needed to take the week before coming back so I have no damn clue why I’m leaning against the same damn bar I was posted against last night.
Okay, that’s a lie, and when did I start lying to myself?
I know exactly why I’m here.
Deacon Black.
And that’s another lie.
I’m here mostly because of Deacon Black.
And yet another lie.
I’m here partially because of my boss.
Mostly, I’m here because I want to see her again.
And it’s not because of the constant pain in my foot that I can’t seem to stop thinking about her. There’s also that low throb a little higher north—in the area right around the middle of me—that serves as a reminder as well.
“How’d it go last night?”
I grunt at Sherman rather than giving him an actual response.
“She must’ve been a fucking wildcat. I saw your ass limp in here a few minutes ago.”
I huff, lifting my tumbler of whiskey to my lips.
“I struck out.” I nod, knowing he does often. The poor guy has no real game despite the fact that objectively he’s a good-looking guy. The problem is, most of the guys here are, and the women have their pick of the litter so to speak. Without the charm, they just aren’t interested.
“Maybe your friend from last night will be here again. You could introduce me.”
A low growl erupts from my throat, and it shows my fucking hand.
Sherman raises an eyebrow, my behavior out of character. I don’t do repeats. Not that I’ve had to outright say as much to him, but he’s an astute guy. I don’t really pay that much attention. I get in, get out and move on. The women I sleep with are forgotten by the time the hotel room door closes at my back, and I imagine I’m the same way to them. It’s how it’s supposed to be.
Sex is great. It’s fun. It’s a way to unwind and relax. It’s an endorphin rush. Then it’s over.
Or so I fucking thought.
“You’re here waiting for her yourself,” he surmises. “Pussy that good?”
The best I’ve ever had.
“Quit talking,” I grumble.
She won’t be here. She was leaving. She said as much before she stomped on my foot like a crazy woman, so there’s no reason for me to be here. I take another long sip of my whiskey, my eyes scanning the bar, getting lost on the guy sitting in the spot she occupied last night.
There’s no flash of red dress, no woman with long, dark wavy hair catching my eye. She’s probably already back in New York by now, cleaning up the mess she left behind after discovering her father’s long-term affair with a woman he works with. Wren was very thorough in his research.
I can’t help but wonder if her actions last night had more to do with her needing to take her mind off what she was going through personally than wanting to have a little fun. The ring nestled safely in my pocket burns a little hotter at the thought. That news makes my actions even more heinous than I originally intended. No wonder she looked at me like I was the devil. No wonder she walked out of the BBS office without looking back.
I lost the hand in a game of poker I didn’t even know I was playing.
“Good luck tonight,” Sherman says with a quick slap on my back. He’s got his eyes set on a cute blonde across the bar who he has absolutely no chance of locking down.
I don’t try to stop him. I need the quiet. The bar doesn’t offer it to me, but I can’t leave just yet. The night is young, and I’m still holding out hope that Leighton might still be in the city. Maybe she changed her mind. If she found out about what her mother did in retaliation of her husband’s affair, maybe she decided to stay and hole up back in her room. Maybe seeking the comfort of a man in her bed two nights in a row will cross her mind, and I’ll be damned if that man will be anyone other than me.
I’ll confess my lies. I’ll tell her that I’m not married. I’ll beg to get her back to the office if that’s what it takes. I need to satisfy whatever this is that’s burning inside to get her under me just one more time. I’m certain that’s all that it will take. Once more is all I need. I should’ve stated that need last night. I could’ve avoided all of this shit. Had I just left that little golden band in my pocket and crawled up her delectable body, we could’ve laughed about having a great night at lunch while discussing her plans for building the secondary team for BBS, commiserating over good food and great sex.
