It was comforting, like her.
“You know shacking up with a girl might—”
“Don’t you dare,” I said.
“You need to let go of it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Tyler, you’re letting her—”
“I should’ve let her do more,” I said curtly.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and routed him back to the one conversation I knew would get him off that one. Anything to get him off Ana.
“How does nine at Varnish sound?”
“Oh hell yes. I’m there,” he said.
“See you then.”
I hung up the phone before he could get another word in edgewise. Then, looking around at all the boxes I had yet to unpack, I figured I could start in on a few of those. After getting through ten of them and working up a decent sweat, I looked at the clock and groaned.
It was already seven thirty, and downtown would be packed with traffic and the after-dinner drink rush.
I hopped in the shower and went to go put a suit on, then decided on jeans and a T-shirt instead. The less I could showcase my money, the better chance Brandon stood at hooking up with a girl tonight. Not that I was better-looking than he was, but in my experience, women gravitated toward any man they thought might make good money in his later years.
Jeans and a T-shirt didn’t scream of a good job, of a six-figure salary. It screamed “deadbeat surfer dude” on a good night.
And I wasn’t planning on having a good night.
I knew the second Brandon embraced me that I was in for trouble. He had that smirk on his face that hadn’t changed since freshman year. I always knew when someone had something up their sleeve, but Brandon wore that shit like a badge of honor. Everyone always knew when he was up to something, and he didn’t care.
When he pointed to two girls sitting at the bar by themselves, I groaned.
“I told you I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight,” I said.
“And you don’t have to. Look, see the one on the right? With the beautiful jet-black hair? Her body language is very open, very ready. The one on the left? She’s closed off. Her legs are crossed and her hair is in a high, tight bun. She’s not looking for someone, just like you.”
“Oh, so we cannot look for someone while we fuck each other’s brains out?”
“No, but you can keep the friend entertained while I swoop in on the one that might be available.”
“You were being serious about that game plan thing, weren’t you?” I asked.
“Not until I saw those two beauties when I walked in. And trust me, they’re gorgeous.”
“Nice eyes? I know you have a thing for eyes.”
“Don’t know. They haven’t turned around.”
“They haven’t—Brandon!”
He took me by the arm and pulled me their way. Of course he would have some batshit-crazy scheme up his sleeve for the night. I wrenched my arm away from him as we approached the two women from behind.
I had to admit, he’d done a pretty good job of reading their body language. The one with the black hair did have a more open stance. Her shoulders were rolled back. Her legs weren’t crossed. Her outfit was a little skimpier. The woman beside her was the exact opposite: caved shoulders, crossed legs, jeans and a basic shirt.
Like me.
“I’m sorry for intruding, but I just have to say that seeing the two of you lovely ladies alone tonight makes my heart ache. Would you mind if me and a friend of mine joined you?”
I shook my head and fought the urge to roll my eyes. If that was how Brandon was picking up women, no wonder he had hit a dry patch. The girls looked at one another before they turned in their seats, and the playful grins on their faces told me everything I needed to know about how this encounter would go.
Until their jaws dropped open.
“Brandon?”
“Tyler?”
As I took in the face of the woman in front of me in jeans and a tight shirt, my mouth went dry. Those curves. That thick, dirty blond hair piled high on her head. That doe-eyed stare that reminded me of the crystal-clear waters of tropical islands.
“Ana,” I said.
“Kristi. Wow. You look incredible,” Brandon said.
I nudged him to get him to shut up as my eyes roamed Ana’s body. She locked up instantly. I watched her do it. Every muscle in her body tensed as her eyes locked onto my face in disbelief.
Her thighs had thickened and her hips looked as if they had spread with womanhood. Her bosom moved with every shallow breath she took, and all the memories of losing myself in her curves came barreling back. The way she moaned. The way her plump lips wrapped around my cock. The way her soft arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me in for all those heated, stolen kisses in the shadows of the bleachers during football season.