CHAPTER 1
Anne Cooper eyed the tray of tequila and kamikaze shots on the high table. Her friends grabbed one of each. Much as she’d like to join them, as the designated driver, she’d stick with water, and her stomach would thank her in the morning. Mixing shots was the kiss of death.
Mostly, she wanted to be there for Emily, who worked nonstop and deserved a night out to celebrate her birthday. With a spreadsheet and a calendar, Anne had compared everyone’s schedules. Finally, she’d managed to find a date that worked for all of them. Thanks to her careful planning, she had all of her friends together. Her heart swelled with satisfaction.
Emily ran a hand through her curly red hair and pouted. “Have a drink. I want you to have fun. We can get a ride.”
“Relax, I’m enjoying myself,” Anne shouted over the band blasting alternative rock music from across the sports bar. Besides, she was more of a wine-sipping kind of girl. Hard liquor went straight to her head, and she didn’t like to feel out of control.
She glanced at the guitar player jamming on the small stage. Maybe she could ask the band to play Emily’s favorite song. Approaching a singer and drawing attention to herself made her pulse skitter, but what the hell. She’d do it for her best friend, who always had Anne’s back. Besides, at thirty-two it’s not like she was some shy teenager.
Trish, their server, was nowhere in sight. Anne pointed to her empty glass, using it as an excuse to slip away. “I’ll be right back.”
She weaved through the crowd, dodging servers carrying trays with pitchers of beer and fried wings. Baltimore Orioles pennants and Ravens pictures covered every inch of the walls. Even though she didn’t follow sports, she at least knew the team colors, since her fifth-graders proudly wore their purple football jerseys to school.
The band announced they were taking a break, and the noise level returned to normal. Perfect. She’d grab a water and muster up the courage to make a request.
She spied an empty seat at the bar and hurried to the only open spot. As she slid the chair out, a man in the midst of an animated conversation waved a hand, bumping her shoulder. Cold soda spilled on her arm, and she jumped.
He whirled around, his mouth agape. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you behind me.”
Her breath caught as eyes the color of emeralds stared down at her. Way down, because the guy stood an easy foot taller. Blond hair highlighted his tanned face, which would be flawless if not for a few faint scars and a less-than-perfectly-straight nose that somehow added character.
Her heart thumped in her chest, and she blinked.
He snagged a handful of cocktail napkins as she held her arm away from her body so the drink wouldn’t drip onto her jeans or shoes. At least some part of her brain hadn’t seized. He placed a warm hand under her elbow for support and dabbed the napkins over her wet arm.
“Um…it’s okay.” She fumbled to take them from him, paying no attention to his bulging biceps. Not at all.
“Nice move, slick,” came a voice from behind him.
Anne glanced at the beefy, dark-haired man with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“That’s John. Ignore him. He has no manners,” Mister Biceps said. He released her elbow, wiped his palm on his jeans and extended his hand. “I’m Wyatt.”
She shook his hand, and an electric current tingled up her arm. Something in his eyes flashed. Maybe he’d felt it, too? Her gaze traveled from his massive chest to his broad shoulders. Either the place had shrunk, or this giant of a man had filled it. “I’m Anne.”
“Hey, you gonna buy the lady a drink or what, superjock?” John asked.
Wyatt must have given a quick kick to John because he jerked on the bar stool and laughed. He leaned across the counter and said something to the bartender, who nodded, not breaking his rhythm pouring shots.
“My friend has a good point. Can I buy you a drink to make up for this?” Wyatt waved at her arm, which had bits of paper stuck to it from the napkin dabbing.
She brushed back a few strands of hair. Her stomach clenched. The guy was smoking hot, and the scent of his cologne was making her heady. Even so, she couldn’t go there. The next guy she dated wouldn’t be someone she met in a bar and knew nothing about. She’d closed that door and sealed the windows. But there he stood, jiggling the locks.
“Well …” She glanced across the room to her table. “I’m with friends.”
The bartender placed a drink with a pink umbrella in front of Wyatt, and faced Anne.
“What can I get for you?” he asked.
“A water, please.”
He filled a glass and slid it over to her.
Wyatt shook his head, plucked the umbrella from his drink, and twirled it in front of John’s face. “Seriously? You ordered a Shirley Temple for me?”
John smirked and took a pull of his beer.
Anne bit her cheek to keep from laughing. This big, manly guy holding a pink paper umbrella was too much.
He dropped it on the counter and sighed. “I can’t take him anywhere. My team lost tonight, so I’m the DD, but I don’t drink Shirley Temples.”
His eyes twinkled with humor, and her heart slammed against her ribcage. She needed to leave. Walk away right now before he made her laugh again. “Well, I gotta go.”
Yet she didn’t make a move.
Her gaze fell to the writing on his T-shirt. “No softballs here. We play hard.”
This time she did laugh. Wyatt glanced down and winced. With a grin, he shrugged. “I’d regret the shirt choice, except it made you smile.”
He made her smile.
“There he is. Hey, superstar.” A tall blonde wearing stilettos, sprayed on jeans, and a clingy halter top strutted over, followed by an entourage of look-alikes. She gave Wyatt a peck on the cheek. “Sorry we’re late. I see the party has already started.”
Giggles came from the peanut gallery as they surrounded Wyatt, pushing Anne to the end of the bar. She shuffled in her Skechers. Sure, she liked to dress up and wear heels once in a while, but if she tried to pull off sky-high stilettos, she’d be limping for a week. Jeans and the T-shirt she’d bought off the clearance rack at Target were no match for these women’s sexy, hip vibe. Heat crept up her neck like back in school when the popular girls called her a nerd.
Time to go to her table. She didn’t fit in with this crowd. Picking up her water, she turned to leave, but Wyatt tapped her arm. He’d moved away from the women to stand next to her.
He rubbed his jaw. “Hey, I don’t want to keep you, but…”
Her gaze flew to his, and he must have seen something in her eyes, because he didn’t finish his sentence. He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets.
Great. She’d scared him away. Just as well. Didn’t need a hot guy with groupies and an ego that probably needed constant stroking. She’d steer far away from that type.
When she dated again, it would be with a stable, responsible man. Someone who had a work ethic and wouldn’t impulsively quit his job and expect to mooch off her. Someone she could count on, who wouldn’t perpetually stand her up or not be able to commit to any plans for fear of missing something else more “fun.”
Nope. She was so done with those guys. Looks didn’t matter. Only, she couldn’t deny that Wyatt’s looks…well…the looks he gave her made her insides quiver oh-so-pleasantly.
“We usually come here after the games. Maybe see you around sometime?” He hitched an eyebrow.
John shook his head and coughed over what sounded like, “Coward.”
The minions encroached on Wyatt, their laughter pealing. Still, he held Anne’s gaze.
Something in her chest fluttered faster than the wings of a bird taking flight. Doubtful she’d run into him again, since she didn’t get out much. “Maybe. Nice meeting you.”
She hurried away before she changed her mind. Whatever expression he’d seen on her face had stopped him cold from asking her out. All for the best. Teaching, interviewing for vice principal jobs, and volunteer work kept her super busy. That’s the way she liked it. Besides, she needed some space to get over the last breakup and time to do her homework on anyone new. He’d have to tick off the right boxes on her growing list of important attributes.
The band tuned their instruments, getting ready for the next set. She took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd to get closer.
The lanky lead singer, with sleeve tattoos and multiple piercings, paused to pick up his drink. She stood on her tiptoes and waved to him. “It’s my friend Emily’s birthday. Do you take requests?”
He leaned down. “Depends. What song?”
She told him, and he nodded in an I’m-so-cool way. “You got it.”
His fingers fiddled with the guitar strings as his gaze wandered down her body. “Why don’t you stop back when we take our next break?”
“Thanks, but I’m with the girls tonight.”
“Bring them with you.” He jerked his head in the direction of the drummer and bass player. “We love a party.”
“Maybe next time.” She smiled and walked away. Her face was on fire, but she’d done it.
His voice came over the mic. “Got a request from a pretty lady. Can’t turn that down. This one’s for Emily. Happy birthday.”
Anne’s friends let out a whoop from their table as she returned.
“Oh my God. My favorite song. Did you do that?” Emily high-fived Anne as the girls moved to the music. Worth the nerves to make Emily so happy.
Anne glanced across the bar at Wyatt. The group around him had grown. A guy clapped him on the back and another passing by gave him a fist bump. She ignored the tiny sinking of her spirits.
Wyatt was out of her league, and she’d promised herself she’d stick to her plan.
No room for players in her life.
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