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Happenstance(15)

Author:Tessa Bailey

She’s gorgeous. Smart. Smells so good. Didn’t freak out when the tram stalled. And she seemed to like me. Let me put my arms around her. So I might have overreacted in the genitals department. Technically, I’m still overreacting a little because I haven’t had any alone time since it happened. Deep breath, man.

Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut about the ID card?

I could be home by now. Could have used the ID card to find her before the others. But no. I had to open my big, dumb yapper. Now I’m in competition with super-fit sports guy and a man who has sex for a living. I couldn’t even compete with my lazy brother. Do I stand a chance against these two?

Maybe. She asked me out, didn’t she?

Looked at me with softer eyes than the other two, unless I completely imagined that.

It’s possible. What could she want from me?

What would any women want from me, let alone Elise who is so full of life and secrets and curiosity, it made my throat burn just to look at her?

My failed marriage was all about providing. I was pretty comfortable with my ex, because I’d known her for so long. But I never felt like she was one hundred percent present with me. Not like I did when Elise tipped her chin up and seemed to stare right into my soul.

“I think I’ll just take this and go,” I say, pushing aside my beer—and attempting to leave with the ID card. “Nice meeting you both.”

They stand simultaneously, shoving me back down into the wooden booth.

Sex guy is stronger than I thought.

“Not so fast,” Banks says, visibly trying to hold on to his patience. “Let’s just finish our drinks and figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” I question him, warily.

“What happened up there,” Banks explains, taking the orange peel garnish out of his beer and tossing it onto the napkin. First, he looks at Tobias. “This sort of thing might be typical for you, but I’ve never shared a woman like that.”

“Me neither,” I say, trying not to think too hard about the curve of her butt in my lap. The way she pushed it up against me and grinded, slowly, wiping my brain clean. “I don’t really want to start now, either.”

Their eyes snap to mine. I’ve put them on guard.

That’s fine. I don’t have a lot of friends. Not like my brother does. I’ve gotten used to being the odd man out. I just really don’t want that to happen with Elise. Something really deep in my stomach tells me she’s important. How this situation is handled is important.

“And there’s the elephant in the room,” Tobias drawls, rapping his knuckles on the table. “We were all…affected by this woman. We all want to sleep with her.”

“If you don’t think it was more than that, you weren’t there,” Banks states.

Tobias becomes fascinated by his martini. A martini. Who is this dude? I have no business hanging out with him. But I’m more interested in what Banks said. Until now, I swear I had some kind of instant, cosmic connection with Elise.

What if it wasn’t only me, though?

“What do you mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Banks.

The rugby coach lets out an exhale, shakes his head. “I can’t find the adequate words to explain it. Except to say…she never felt like a stranger. Not for a single second. I wanted to protect her immediately. I wanted her to…”

“Like you?” Tobias supplies, seeming to shock himself. “Really, genuinely like you. Because she seemed like someone whose opinion matters.”

“Yeah,” Banks and I say at the same time.

We’re all trading wary glances with each other.

Shit. They do get it. I’m not the only one.

* * *

Tobias

* * *

Fucking hell.

What am I doing here?

As galling as it is to admit, I don’t think I’ve got a chance with Elise. She has definitely rubbed a few orgasms out to my impressive visage, but she thinks I’m a twat. Hell, I am a twat. Talking about sex and making filthy insinuations is part of my charm. However, I’m usually capable of turning it off in mixed company. Tonight? I couldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. I wanted her to like me and yet, I couldn’t seem to stop doing the very thing that pissed her off.

Almost as if I resented the very need to be liked.

My therapist—the real reason I was on Roosevelt Island—would be impressed.

Whatever the reason I behaved like a boor, here I am, trying to be part of her fan boy club when I’ve all but obliterated my chance to sleep with her. And fuck me, I really, really want to sleep with her. There’s also the peculiar matter of wanting my chance at keeping her warm. The way Erection Boy and Banks did. That lost opportunity sits in my stomach now like a paperweight. So I drink my piss-poor martini and stay put, the chance of seeing her again keeping me glued to the booth.

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