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“Me?” I ask as I smooth my ponytail and bring it around over my shoulder. I turn to look at Asher just in time to see him following the movement, his eyes traveling down my body and getting a shade darker. “Um, well, you remember I loved working with my mom and her floral business?” He nods in acknowledgment. “Well, when we moved to Chicago, she opened a shop there and I started my event planning business.”
He gives me a mischievous smile. “See, the flower shop just screams sweet girl next door.”
The familiarity of our banter is comforting, and I find myself warming up to Asher in a way I hadn’t expected. The thought terrifies me. Maybe because I closed myself off from the possibility of heartbreak years ago. I’ve learned to keep my heart closely guarded. Neither he nor anyone else will be able to hurt me again.
As Asher goes to give a pep talk to the football team, I watch him with a mixture of emotions, wondering where this unexpected reunion will lead, and what it might mean for both of us.
Chapter Four
ASHER
My cell phone is ringing again, but I'm too tired to care.
Yesterday afternoon was restless thanks to a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman I ran into earlier that morning. She plagued my every thought for the remainder of the day.
I couldn’t get her out of my head even as I hit the gym, or worked to iron out some problems with my upcoming sneaker launch. I also attempted to distract myself at the hotel bar later. Needless to say, I ended up trying to drown her out with alcohol.
As I roll over in bed, trying to catch up on some much-needed rest, it seems the new day has brought with it a whole new set of problems.
My damn phone won’t stop ringing! It's been going off since five o’clock this morning.
First, it was my coach telling me to practice on my own and not get soft, but in more colorful words. Then my manager phoned asking me about ad campaigns and scheduling. After that came my product launch manager with talks about timeline hiccups, delivery mishaps, our launch date, and other shit I can’t remember.
If I'm away from work I should be able to lie in bed until at least noon. I literally just left the desk with my paperwork littering its surface and got back under the covers. Whoever the fuck is calling me right now can eat shit.
The constant ring is threatening to drive me crazy. I should just turn the damn thing off, but I have too many obligations right now. When the ringing stops, but restarts almost immediately after, I roll back over toward the nightstand and pick up the stupid thing.
I don’t know the number, but this is my private phone, so only people who I consider important should have this number. I pick up.
“Ashy!” a voice squeaks into my unsuspecting ear, and I wince.
I sit up and rub the back of my neck, scowling. I don’t want to deal with this shit today. “Lauren,” I answer dryly.
“Oh! How did you know it was me, Ashy?” she squeals again.
I flop back on the bed and close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Don’t call me that. What do you want, Lauren?”
“I was looking for you at practice but didn’t see you.” I could hear the pout in her whiney voice. “Where are you? I wanted us to go to dinner this weekend.”
Her voice grates on my nerves. How long have I been seeing her now? And how did I even end up dealing with this jersey chaser? Or the better question is: how have I been putting up with this voice of hers for so long?
“Come on Ashy,” she complains. “We can go to dinner,” her voice softens to what I guess she assumes is a sultry tone, “and then have another bet on whether or not you can make it to your apartment before you blow.”
I groan aloud.
Now I remember. I usually don’t hear her voice because my dick is always in her mouth. One of the guys from the team said she gives great head, and I wanted to find out for myself. He forgot to mention that she made sure to weasel out some very expensive things from me first.
It’s time for her to go. I’m not giving her any more expensive bags or shoes just to get my dick sucked. No matter how damn good a blowjob she gives.
How do I play this?
I run through my typical dump methods. I can tell her that I'm losing my position on the team, but I don't think that would deter her. I still have enough money for her to be interested. And she’s too shallow to care if I say I’ve just been using her for sex—she’d simply reply she doesn’t have a problem with that arrangement.
I have just the thing…
I clear my throat, feigning a regretful tone as I say, “Listen, Lauren, I have a girlfriend now, and she won't put up with me having another woman. She’ll cut my balls off and dump your body in the Chicago River. So don’t call me again, okay?”
She laughs. “That's fine, I can be your side piece on the weekends. That could be fun.”
