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She was fucking hot. Probably the best-looking woman I’d ever laid eyes on. But I wasn’t going to admit that. Because she was also being childish and petty about the job and insisting I leave the restaurant.
Drew
Of course, you weren’t. It’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone seriously. It’s got to get old just banging supermodels and fangirls. Is that why you’re being a moody asshole lately?
What are you? My dating therapist? We aren’t girlfriends. Fuck off. I’m fine. And if you’ve forgotten, the last woman I dated sold a bullshit story about my family for a couple of thousand bucks and fucked that douchebag hockey player while we were together. I’m not in a hurry to go there again. It’s best to keep things casual while I’m trying to figure out my life.
Drew
Dude, you dated an unknown actress who was a bad breaker-upper. Once you ended things, it was bound to go sour. Perhaps you should try dating a non-famous person who isn’t thirsty for their ten minutes of fame.
You set me up with her.
Drew
Don’t shoot the messenger. She was a friend of Deb’s Pilates instructor. How the hell were we supposed to know she was a stage-five clinger?
I rolled my eyes and leaned back on the couch. I enjoyed sex as much as the next guy, but I hadn’t had great experiences with relationships. So, I preferred to keep things casual most of the time. My life was complicated enough at the moment anyway.
I’m done talking about my dating life, or lack thereof. I do just fine with the ladies. Don’t you worry about it. Talk to you tomorrow.
Drew
Deb just said that her manicurist is single and that her short stint in prison was just because her ex-boyfriend made her sit in the car when he robbed a gas station. I can’t make this shit up, brother.
I laughed and dropped my phone on the couch as I stared out at the water.
For whatever reason, those dark brown eyes flooded my thoughts. The way her chest rose and fell when she hissed at me. The way her long waves fell around her shoulders. And don’t even get me started about her plump, pink lips.
Hell, I probably did need to get laid. I had a few hookups I could reach out to, but that would mean inviting them here.
Since everything went down with Jaqueline, I was cautious about that. I preferred to go to hotels and keep things surface-level.
I enjoyed being in control of every situation in my life, and sex was no different.
My mind wandered back to the woman who’d just kicked me out of the restaurant.
I didn’t give a shit if Brinkley Reynolds took the job or not.
I’d done my part.
I could rest guilt-free now. She’d turned it down, and that was her choice.
* * *
I’d gone for a run every day this week, and I loved how quiet it was in the mornings here. I wasn’t swamped by reporters, and nobody bothered me in Cottonwood Cove. I’d been to a few restaurants since I’d arrived here, the grocery store and the coffee shop, and people waved and said hello. A few asked for my autograph. But they were respectful. They weren’t asking where I was going to play or what my plans were. It reminded me of the early days of my career when attention from the fans felt like an honor and not an obligation. I missed those days. Maybe I’d become too jaded. Built up too many walls to protect myself.
I was heading down the main road just as the sun was starting to come up, and a woman was running toward me. She was pumping her arms, running a similar pace to mine, from what I could tell. Her long strides hit the pavement as she hauled ass in my direction. She wore a black sports bra, black leggings, and a white baseball cap. As we closed the distance, running toward one another from opposite directions, I realized who it was.
Brinkley Reynolds.
Her dark gaze locked with mine as she moved past me, and for reasons I can’t explain, I turned around.
Ran after her.
When I pulled up beside her, she startled for a second and tore the earbuds out of her ears.
“DoIneed to get a restraining order now?” she huffed as she continued striding at a good pace.
