Page 3 of End Game

“You more so than me, I’m sure.” He chuckled and then nodded toward the fridge behind him. “You hungry?”

Nodding eagerly, I rushed out a “Yes, I am,” just as my stomach rumbled. “Can I have a turkey and provolone please?”

Rudy chuckled. “Coming right up, chiquita.”

There were three tables set in front of the deli counter, each with two chairs. It was cramped—there wasn’t enough room in here to provide any more seating than this—but I wiggled myself between two of the tables and squeezed into one of the tiny metal chairs. I watched as Rudy pulled out meat, cheese, and veggies from the industrial-sized stainless steel walk-in. “Do you ever get scared of getting trapped in there?” I asked the question before I could think better of it.

Rudy quirked a brow. “No…?”

“Oh, so you’re normal then?” I laughed. “Sometimes when I have to change a keg at the bar, I get worried that someone will accidentally lock me in and I’ll freeze to death.”

His dark brown eyes swam in amusement. “I highly doubt you guys keep your walk-in cold enough to freeze, or you’d be pouring beer slushies from the tap.”

Hm. Not a bad idea. I was just about to tell him as much when the bell chimed again.

Rudy lifted his head. “Hello, welcome!” he called out.

I couldn’t see the front door from where I sat, but I heard the low, baritone voice that responded. “Good evening, sir.” It cut through the air like butter—smooth and rich as it drifted along my senses, sensual and teasing like a long overdue vice. “I was curious if you sell champagne?”

Rudy’s brows pulled ever-so-slightly, but he quickly wiped the confusion away with a smile. “Uh, yes sir—one second and I’ll show you our options.” He rubbed his palms against the apron he wore around his waist and moved toward the front door.

I ducked my head to catch a glimpse of the new arrival through the chip shelves on my right, but only managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a light gray business suit and large olive hands before they disappeared down another aisle.

“We unfortunately don’t have many to choose from,” said Rudy, his voice traveling from the other side of the store, “but what we do have is right here.”

“Which one is your most expensive?” the man asked. I almost snorted.

“Uh, that would be this one, sir. It’s seventeen dollars.”

“Mhm.” That voice rumbled out a low, pleased hum. I felt the sound somewhere in my limbs, like a spark igniting. “It’s perfect, I’ll take it.”

Sounds of feet shuffling moved back this way before Rudy came into view, carefully holding a bottle of champagne in both of his hands. He made his way behind the register and scanned the barcode.

The man trailed behind, pausing on this side of the counter. He was wearing a three-piece suit, the light gray material looking almost silver under the fluorescent lights. The white collar of a dress shirt peeked from the back of his neck, and soft chestnut waves cascaded around his head, just long enough for the ends to drape over that collar.

From the back, he looked . . . promising. His stature alone called for attention, and I realized he certainly had mine. Which was odd, considering I hadn’t felt genuine attraction for a man in a very long time.

How long has it been? I wondered. Two years? Maybe longer. Not since Logan . . . but I didn’t even really count him. He’d been a soft landing after the worst days—or more accurately, months—of my life. Plus, he was technically an ex-boyfriend, the guy I lost my virginity to when we were both sixteen, so our reconnection had been more like the comfort of muscle memory than a new, whirlwind attraction.

“Do you need anything else, sir?” Rudy asked, bringing me back to the too-bright shop.

The man reached into his suit jacket and propped a leather wallet on the counter. “No, thanks. This’ll do just fine.”

Rudy nodded. “Your total is eighteen dollars and thirty-six cents.”

I heard the swipe of a card followed by the ting of the register slamming shut. “Thank you so much for coming in, sir.” Rudy smiled brightly. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The man nodded, his waves rustling with the movement. “Yes, of course. Thank you for all your help.” He turned around clutching the bag, but his eyes snagged on where I was sitting in the cold metal chair and as soon as they landed on me, his feet stopped moving.

Chapter Two

His dazzling blue eyes scanned me, from the green and purple streaks in my hair to the septum ring that hung from my nose. He was a handsome, sharp, clean-cut man—all business. But his eyes were soft as they appraised me, and on closer inspection, his tawny hair was wild and unkempt. It suited him . . . helped to balance the severe businessman vibe he was giving off.

My focus moved back to his eyes as they swept down my body and up once more. I tensed, bracing for the immediate judgment that men so often graced me with. One look at me and they usually either wanted to fuck me or move on like they never saw me. I was hot enough to catch their short-term interest, or just edgy enough to scare them away. But this man . . . he was looking at me in a whole new way.

“Oh, hello,” he greeted me. Like we’d just stumbled into each other at the park on a warm sunny day, and not in a cramped twenty-four-hour convenience store well past midnight. His full lips curled into a bright smile, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. “I didn’t notice you there,” he said simply as his blue eyes sparkled under the harsh lighting.

His words caught me off guard . . . I almost looked over my shoulder to see whether he was speaking to someone else. Instead, I gave him a polite smile and said, “Hello.”