AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Yeah, I know that about him too.
And when he’s here, he likes to keep to himself, even when he’s with his friends. They usually sit quietly at the bar or shoot some pool.
When Janey reaches him, she goes for it. She launches into some serious hair flicking, lip licking, and flirty looks. But as suspected, Ares isn’t interested, and he turns her down. Obviously not one to admit defeat, Jane keeps going for it, even running a long nail up his thick forearm until Ares eventually tells it to her straight. Her face drops, and I feel her friends’ smugness seep over the top of their booth into mine.
I feel sorry for Janey.
Her friends are mean.
I don’t watch her walk of defeat back to them. Instead, I open my purse and pull out a photograph. In the picture, two little kids are standing in ankle-deep water at the beach. The little boy is holding the little girl’s hand, their backs to the camera. A surge of sadness rolls through me, and I swipe my thumb over the image before returning it to my handbag.
Feeling a new wave of determination, I leave the booth and make my way across the bar to Ares.
ARES
The first time I notice her, she’s sitting alone in the booth next to the bachelorette party. Long blonde hair. Big doe-eyes. Flawless throat. Lips that deserve to be kissed nonstop. She doesn’t look my way when I walk past, which is good because I have a feeling if our eyes meet, something would ignite inside me, and I don’t need the temptation.
The second time I see her, I’ve gotten rid of the annoying brunette who couldn’t keep her hands to herself or get the message that I wasn’t interested. She has just left when I look up from my bourbon to see the beauty walking toward me, and I’m unable to look away because this woman is something else—blue jeans, boots to her knees, and a tight tank that shows off her polished shoulders and the deep tan of her skin.
And I’m not the only one who notices her.
Beside me, Paw blows out an appreciative whistle before moving off to play pool.
At first, I think she’s going to walk right past me. But as she gets a few feet away, her gaze finds mine and a small smile plays at the corner of her mouth. I immediately know she is heading my way, which makes me a lot happier than it should.
She stops next to me at the bar.
“Hey,” she says.
But I only offer her a polite nod.
I don’t want to engage.
I shouldn’t engage.
But…
“I saw the fight. That’s some mean upper cut you have,” she continues. When she talks, I’m drawn to the two dimples pressed into her cheeks.
“You know your upper cut from your right hook,” I say.
“And my jab from my cross.”
“I’m impressed.”
My gaze drops to her mouth. I was right. This girl has lips that should be kissed all night long.
“My uncle owned a gym, and when I was a kid, he let me hang out there.” She shrugs. “I watched and listened and eventually learned.”
Her accent is pure Boston. I lived there long enough to know the distinctive dialect when I hear it.
“Did you get in the ring?” I ask.
“When I was younger. But not professionally or anything. My uncle used to have me spar with some of his younger professional fighters.”
I do a subtle sweep of her body. She’s fit and strong, and even with her small frame, she looks like she could take care of herself.
