Hard Count (Men of Fall Book 5), page 2
Still, he droned on with his same spiel. “Honey, you’re twenty-six. You finished your business degree this past spring, and with honors. But you’re not even working anywhere yet.”
“I am too,” I protested. “I have a job.”
Softening somewhat, he said, “Okay, that’s true. You do. But waitressing at that steak place is not the career you studied for four long years for, is it?”
“No.” I sighed. “And I know all that. But I like that job for now. I mean, hell, it pays the bills.”
“Ha,” he harrumphed. “I pay the bills, at least the big ones.”
He had me there, as he did buy my townhouse. Oh, and my car, a cherry-red BMW. He also just happens to be the source of the funds for this vacation.
But still.
Defeated, I murmured, “But I don’t like football, Dad. Why would I want to work for the team?”
He laced his fingers together and templed his hands on the desk. “Honey, liking football doesn’t matter. It’s just a business. And, more importantly, it’s our business. I’m tired of waiting for you to come around.” He blew out a breath, and I knew something big was on the horizon.
Sure enough, his next words were “And because of that, I’m going to have to insist you begin to take some sort of interest in the business, even if it’s just one small step at a time. Hell, as it is…” He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated once more. “I bet you can’t name one single Comets player.”
I was fired up too and practically shouted, “No, I can’t. Nor do I care to learn any of their names, faces, or anything about any of them.”
“Lexi.” He sighed, calming down and shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
His anger was dissipating, but I was still fired up.
I snapped back, “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe don’t push me into something I care nothing about?”
He gave me a look then, like he knew something I hadn’t yet realized.
“You’ll care someday,” he said softly. “People change, life circumstances change… You’ll see.”
“No.” I shook my head adamantly. “All that may be true, but I don’t think I’ll ever want to be involved with the Comets.”
I was being a little dramatic, yes, as I know I can’t hold my father off forever. But the here and now is where my head is, and it was that day as well.
I stood up, spun around, and sashayed right the hell out of his office.
That’s the way we left it.
It breaks my heart to disappoint my father, but I can’t change the way I feel. I’m really not into football. Yuck.
I don’t want to think about it anymore.
Good thing I don’t have to, as there’s a perfect distraction right in front of me—a hot, muscle-bound guy named Mike.
I sent him a drink and made my way over after ditching some loser who tried to pick me up.
Mike and I hit it off right away, and now we’re on the dance floor, having a blast.
There’s chemistry and a strong attraction between us.
What a combination.
Shit, look at him now, dancing across from me in his faded jeans and tight black tee. He has so many freaking muscles, and his face is so damn cute. I can’t believe how hot he is.
That’s why I sent him the beer.
Sure, it didn’t cost me anything, but it gave me an opportunity to sidle over to his side of the bar and talk with him.
Mike is cool too; he’s easy to talk with.
And he’s totally my type with his slicked-back dark hair, deep-set chocolate brown eyes, and a little bit of light, sexy stubble along his jaw.
Yes, please.
Biting my lip, I lose myself in the music, bumping and grinding with this hot-ass man. His arms are so damn tight and corded, and his chest is freaking wide as hell.
I’m a little buzzed from the mixed drinks I’ve had so far, but, damn, I think I need more from Mike than dancing and flirting.
That’s it, decision made—I’m taking this sexy man to my bed tonight.
That’s something I’d never do back home in Ohio.
But this is my vacation.
And what is it that they say?
You only live once, right?
I snicker to myself.
No one will ever know, as I don’t plan to ever see Mike again. I’m sure he lives far, far away. In fact, I don’t even think I’ll ask.
No, I won’t.
It’s better this way, a one-and-done.
I think he feels the same way, as we haven’t been big on questions about ourselves and our lives back home.
Good.
This is about to be a one-time-Lexi-goes-wild night.
Yikes, but what if he says no?
“Crap.”
Oops, I just said that out loud.
Mike, slowing to a gentle to and fro, places his hands on my elbows. “Is everything okay?” he yells over the music.
“Yes.” I nod enthusiastically. “But I, uh, I think maybe we should get another drink. I’m a little thirsty from all this dancing.”
We haven’t been dancing all that long, but I want to get to work on my plan, which requires building up more courage with a little more alcohol.
Mike’s moves on the dance floor are so freaking good. I bet they’re even better in bed.
Looking a little confused, he says, “Okay. We can get more drinks if that’s what you want.”
“It is, yes.”
Making our way back to the bar, I check out his ass.
Nice!
We find two open bar stools. Not the ones we were originally seated in. No, these stools are unfortunately on a busy corner, where there’s a lot of jostling and not much privacy.
It’s hard to talk, so we mostly just drink.
Mike switches over to water at some point, offering as an explanation, “I have an early flight tomorrow morning.”
Hmm, so he’s leaving tomorrow?
I can be reckless and never see him again, not even this week on the island.
Perfect!
“Got it,” I say, holding my current Sex on the Beach aloft as I prepare to down the rest in one big gulp. Yeah, I ditched the straw a while ago.
“Good call on switching to water,” I go on. “It sucks to be hungover on a plane.”
“Yeah, it does,” he agrees. And then, looking a little concerned, he asks, “Would you like some water too?”
“Huh?”
“Water,” he says. “No judgment here or anything.” He holds up his hands, his corded forearms flexing enticingly. “It’s just that hangovers in general suck.”
I down my drink and set the glass on the bar with a thud.
Waving my hand, I say, “No, I’m good. I have nothing to do tomorrow but recover.”
Chuckling, he mumbles, “Okay, if you say so.”
“I do say so,” I state with a firm nod that leaves me a little woozy.
Hmm, maybe I should switch to water?
I’m beyond tipsy.
I’m more than a little buzzed too.
But I still have my faculties about me, for the most part.
I’m just a braver, more forward version of myself.
That’s why, when someone bumps into my stool for what feels like the fiftieth time, I lean into Mike and say, “Are you ready to get out of here?”
Hell Yeah
Whoa, okay.
Lexi just leaned into me, like real fucking close, and said, “Are you ready to get out of here?”
That escalated quickly.
But I’m not complaining.
This is what I was hoping for.
And now we’re here.
Great.
I mean, shit, we’re two consenting adults—unattached, on vacation, and enjoying each other’s company.
And now we’re ready for more.
Nodding, I tell her, “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”
She’s like a woman on a mission as she asks, “Should we go to my room or yours?”
“I have a suite,” I offer, cocking a brow.
“Pfft.” She laughs. “So do I.”
“Well, then.” I shake my head. I like how she meets me play-for-play. “I guess it’s lady’s choice.”
She takes my hand, our attraction igniting like a striking match. “I say mine, then,” she says in a sultry tone.
“That works for me.”
And it does.
This is on.
We make our way past a couple making out at the entrance of the club and turn left to head down a long corridor leading to the elevators. With my thumb caressing Lexi’s hand the whole way, our connection reaches combustible levels.
When I glance over at her, she’s gulping down a big breath.
“You okay?” I ask.
“God, yeah, I’m beyond okay right now.”
I squeeze her hand. “Good.”
Fuck, this is going to be amazing.
There’s an open elevator, and it’s unoccupied.
Perfect.
I pull her into it as she pushes me toward the back wall. We slam into the cool metal, and I adeptly slide us around to the side so I can hit the button to close the damn door.
I want this sexy woman all to myself.
“What floor?” I rasp, my hands grabbing her by the hips.
Leaning into me, she trails her nose up along my neck, her warm breaths tickling, exciting me further.
“Twelve,” she breathes out.
Whoa, that’s the top floor. I’m on eleven, and my suite is good. But the twelfth floor rooms are even better.
Who is this woman?
She must have some serious cash.
Ah, man, who the hell cares? She just grabbed my crotch.
“Fuck.”
With my hands moving up and into her silky long hair, I slam my mouth down onto hers.
She groans and starts kissing me back, grasping my cock harder.
Damn jeans. I can’t wait to get these things off.
I slide my hands down her back and to her voluptuous ass, where I squeeze and massage her supple cheeks through her sarong.
Seriously, these fabric impediments to feeling more have got to go, hers and mine.
I can’t wait to get to her suite.
The elevator dings just as I’m thinking that.
We break apart, both of us gasping, eyes locking.
“Jesus,” I murmur.
“Right?” she breathes out.
Her lips are swollen, plumper than before, and her sarong is askew and rumpled. Lexi just screams sex, like she’s all about it and ready for it.
Good, so am I.
Or am I?
Lexi may be hot as sin, but now that I’m out of our lust-induced make-out session, I notice she appears a little bleary-eyed.
I don’t think it’s purely from excitement, so I ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Her greens go from bleary to fiery, then determined. “Oh, I’m sure. Are you?”
She cocks her head, like a challenge, so I snort, “Fuck yeah.”
“Good, let’s go.” She grabs my hand.
I let her lead me out of the elevator and down to her suite at the end of the hall. But just as she’s unlocking her door with her key card, I realize I have to take a damn piss. All that fucking water and the beer from earlier have caught up to me.
As soon as we step into her suite, decorated in the same tropical motif of orange, green, and yellow as mine down one floor, I say, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“No, not at all.” Motioning to a set of double doors to our left, she says, “There’s a bathroom connected to my bedroom. You can use that one.”
I know the layout. It’s the same as mine, only in reverse.
So I just nod.
But when I start to step away from Lexi, she takes my hand. “Wait, I’ll show you where it’s at.”
Not necessary, but I don’t tell her that. This is perfect. We’ll be in the room we need to be in, the one with the bed, after she shows me the bathroom and I take care of business.
“Great,” I say, “lead the way.”
Lexi guides me through the main living space and over to the doors to the bedroom.
But when we step inside, she stumbles.
I help right her by cupping her elbow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.
Waving her hand, more unsteadily than before, she says in a slightly slurred tone, “Yes, uh-huh. I’m fine.”
Hmm, she’s clearly not “fine.”
Aw, hell, I’m not an asshole. I’m going to have to reevaluate this whole situation. But first I have to take that leak. We’re reaching emergency status here.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as I hurry into the en suite bathroom.
When I take a quick look back at Lexi, before I close the door, she’s flopping down on the edge of the bed, rocking to and fro. “I’ll be here, waaaaa-iiii-ting,” she singsongs.
Uh-oh.
Shaking my head, as I’m really fucking unsure of what to do now, I close the bathroom door.
It’s really not that hard of a decision, though.
And, as I’m finishing up with taking a leak, I make the right one—I’m not sleeping with Lexi if she’s as drunk as she seems to be, which I fear she is.
She was okay at first, but not so much now. It takes some people a while for alcohol to really hit them. I think Lexi may be one of those types. She probably doesn’t normally drink so much and overdid it.
As I prepare to open the door, all set to tell her I think we should forgo where we were heading and just call it a night, I draw in a deep breath.
Okay, I’m ready.
I exhale, but when I swing open the bathroom door, instead of making my big proclamation, I blurt out, “Whoa, what the hell?”
Beautiful Lexi is curled up in the center of her bed, her head mashed into a pillow, fast asleep and snoring lightly.
The whole scene is rather adorable.
Looks like I don’t have to be the bearer of bad news after all. The decision has been made for us—there will be no sex happening tonight.
I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to tell her that. I’d hate for her to feel rejected, even if it is for her own good.
I sigh.
One thing, though. I am sad our time together is over.
We can’t even say goodbye.
Lexi is a fun person, pretty and passionate too.
Too bad there couldn’t be more, even some additional conversation, but it just is what it is.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, anyway,” I remind myself. “It’s not like you can hang out with her the rest of the week.”
That’s true.
This is done.
At least we both had a fun time.
Striding over to the bed, I fold the bright orange comforter over her.
Stirring, but with her eyes still tightly closed, she mumbles something indecipherable, then starts snoring once more.
Chuckling, I smooth her auburn locks away from her face and say softly, “Good night, sweet Lexi. Hope you have a nice life.”
I leave the suite then, a little sad I’ll never, ever see this woman again.
Goodbye, Paradise
I wake up with the worst headache. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”
I’m not a big imbiber and downing so many Sex on the Beach drinks was a bad, bad idea.
Stretching and yawning, I slowly come to life.
Hmmm.
Looking down, I assess my current situation. I’m still in my sarong with half the comforter draped over me.
I flip the cover back to find my dress is twisted this way and that, but it’s definitely still on.
“Good,” I murmur. “I didn’t do anything stupid last night.”
I do remember meeting a super-hot guy, though.
He was nice too.
Wait, I brought him back here.
Yikes, I can’t believe I did that. “Are you crazy?”
I shake my head, but that makes it hurt worse.
“Ouch.” I run my hands down my face.
What was the guy’s name?
The one I brought back to my suite?
Come to think of it, Shit, is he still here?
I sit up swiftly but quickly flop back down when a wave of nausea comes over me.
Ugh.
I glance around the bedroom slowly to keep the nausea at bay.
There’s definitely no one in here with me.
Wait, I just remembered the guy’s name. It’s Mike.
So is he gone?
This stupid suite is so damn big. He could be in another part of it. Maybe he’s sleeping out on the sofa bed in the living room?
Blowing out a breath, I yell, “Mike? Are you still here?”
Nothing but silence.
To be sure, I yell a little louder, “Mike?”
Ouch, this yelling is making my head pound.
It’s still quiet, so I guess he’s gone.
I twist a little, and realize I have to pee like nobody’s business.
I make a quick run to the en suite bathroom, wincing most of the way, and then return to my bed to think more about last night.
“Why would this Mike guy stay, anyway?” I ask myself as I conclude it was stupid to call out for him.
I mean, come on, I passed out on him after making out with him and giving him every indication we would be doing more, much more.
I’m glad we didn’t, though.
If I’m ever with a man like that, I want to fully remember it. Last night, if something had happened, it would’ve been a hazy blur.
Come to think of it, thank God this Mike dude wasn’t a psycho. He could’ve taken advantage of me.
I cover my face with my hands. What I did last night was so dumb. I had far too many drinks, thought I was fine when I definitely wasn’t, and brought a stranger back to my suite.
Worst part is it was all my idea.
Well, I’ll never do that again.
But since Mike wasn’t an awful man, I think it’s okay to reflect on what I can remember.
Like, I don’t regret making out with him in the elevator. “Mmmm, no, not at all.”
He was an amazing kisser, and I liked the way his body felt pressed up against mine. He was hard in all the right places.
That, I do recall.
