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We made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was eager to get home. The more distance I put between me and Vegas, the better.
Once we boarded, I opened my laptop. Peter was in the seat next to mine. On the short flight back to San Francisco, I was going to review the financial reports my accountant had sent over.
I stared at the numbers, but I wasn’t seeing them. I was seeing her. It was easy to remember every moment of our time together. There were so few moments to recount. I remembered the first time I saw her. She walked into that club and it felt like someone grabbed my head and forced me to look her way. That moment she turned those brown eyes on me, I was screwed. She had me by the balls with a simple look.
I hadn’t been able to get a good look at her until she found a table. Then I had the perfect view of her from behind. She’d been wearing a tight, short dress that showed off plenty of skin. The woman had the perfect amount of curves. Her body was smoking hot, but when I caught a glimpse of her laughing with her friends, that confirmed the initial attraction.
I had purposely walked by to get a better look. I heard her laughing. It was incredibly cheesy, but I swore it was the sweetest sound I ever heard—until I heard her moaning in pleasure with my cock buried inside her.
I had certainly heard stories about love at first sight, but I never actually believed them. I wasn’t even sure I believed in love. Not the love they made movies about. I was sure there was love, but not the kind of love that made you want to walk through fire or shit like that.
But then I saw her. I kissed her. I made love to her.
The first time was just sex. That had been a necessity. She had made me so fucking hard, I had to find release before I could think straight. Then we made love. The way she came apart in my arms had shaken me. It wasn’t just an orgasm. It was mind blowing and soul searing.
I had believed she felt the same way. My dumb ass had convinced myself she felt the same way.
I would never make that same mistake again. No woman would ever do that to me. I wasn’t going to let myself fall into the trap of believing anyone could find their soulmate in a bar. Or anywhere. Soulmates didn’t exist.
“That must be pretty intense stuff,” Peter said.
“What?” I asked, trying to banish all thoughts of her.
“You are studying that screen pretty hard. You look like you’re going to eat the damn thing.”
I wasn’t going to tell him I was thinking about devouringher. “No. It’s nothing. Just trying to pay attention. I can’t afford to miss anything.”
“Which is code forshut the hell up,” he joked.
I smiled. “It wasn’t, but I suppose quiet would help. Get some sleep. You have a busy week ahead of you. Jessica isn’t going to be happy if you come home dragging ass.”
3
MACY
Eight Years Later
“No,” I groaned. “Stop.”
The alarm clock was going off. It was that stupid chime on my phone that was supposed to be soft and soothing. It was just damn irritating.
“Handcock, gross.”
I pushed the Siamese out of my face. The damn thing knew when the alarm was going to go off. He always beat it about thirty seconds before it went off. His rough little cat tongue sliding up my face every morning was obnoxious but also strangely comforting.
I reached out and slapped at my phone until the annoying noise ceased.
Meow.
“You know, you have a full food dish and a water dish. Your litterbox is clean. You don’t have to wake me up. There is nothing you need from me.”
He meowed again and gave me his butt. “You’re a jerk, cat. You’re lucky I love you.”
I got up and sat on the edge of the bed. As I did almost every morning, I contemplated life. I hated my job. Not necessarily the job, but the men I worked for. Working as an assistant to a bunch of white-haired, mothball-smelling, geriatric assholes was not where I thought I would be in my life. I was twenty-nine, almost thirty, and I was still stuck in the same dead-end job.
And I was single. Perpetually single.
“Pity party for one,” I muttered.
