Page 28 of The Player

“Actually, I don’t have room for him at the house right now. You know we had a flood a few days ago, and the only rooms that weren’t messed up were the ones in the back. I’m sleeping on the couch while Bryson takes my bedroom.”

I can feel a heavy dose of you’re my best friend, you have to do this for me coming. “You want me to put him up in the bed and breakfast until you get the pipes and mold taken care of?”

“No, I want you to let him stay with you.” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. He cannot be in close quarters with me. And why not?

Closing my eyes, I count to twenty before speaking. “You know I can’t, Kaylee.”

“You have a perfectly good spare bedroom on the ground floor of your house. You totally can.”

She has me there. I don’t live with anyone but my son and our kitten, Tuxedo. He’s the sweetest little boy. He decided to just walk through my front door and plop down on my bed one day, and he’s been with me ever since. After a lot of begging from Lennox, that is. He emotionally blackmailed me with how we couldn’t let the poor thing go.

“Fine, but one bad word, and I’m tossing him out on his million-dollar butt.”

Kaylee laughs and hangs up. Of course, she does. It would be too much for her to hear me whining. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders, pick up my thirty-two-ounce coffee mug, and drive into the blazing sun. “Julie, you can do this. Stop acting like this is the end of the world.”

Reaching the airport in record time, I check myself in the rearview mirror. Same reddish brown curls as always. Brown, muddy-looking eyes stare back at me—no makeup on, no comb through my messy bun. Oh well, it will have to do. It’s not like I’m going on a date. I’m here as a favor, and that’s it.

Placing my sunglasses on, I get out of the car and lock it before heading into the Dallas Love Airport. Thank God it wasn’t DFW International—too many people. I don’t do crowds. My heart rate is elevated. I can feel it in my ears. Or maybe that’s my blood pressure. Yeah, that’s definitely elevated too.

Checking the incoming flight board, I see Aaron is going to be at the elite terminal, gate ten. Well, I’m lucky. I parked in the parking garage between ten and eleven. Sweet. I move to the carousel, waiting patiently for the one man I’ve always had a soft spot for.

The one man I’ve always wanted, no matter what, who is also the one man I despise with all my heart. At least, that’s what I tell myself as the pain blossoms in my chest. I should be over the hurt by now.

Aaron comes out of the gated area for passengers and looks right at me. I’m shocked to see him looking so bedraggled. He’s usually well put together, but not today. Those golden blond locks cut short and spiked look ready to have my hands run through them. Green eyes twinkle at me, and a smile plays upon his wide lips. Do not cry, dang it. He doesn’t deserve my tears.

“Ju-Ju!” He limps toward me, and I frown. He injured himself a little over a year ago. He should walk straight by now. I keep tabs on him, so I know he’s been in a rehabilitation hospital the entire time. Why the hell isn’t he better? Doesn’t matter, I’m not his physical therapist. Not yet, anyway.

“Hello, Aaron.” I can’t breathe. He’s too close and smells of Nautica cologne. The good kind. The one that haunts my dreams at night as I dream about those green eyes and smile as he’s on top of me.

Snap out of it!

Before I can sidestep him, he grabs me into a tight hug, and for one fleeting moment, I forget that he crushed me when we were younger. I forget I don’t want this man in my life. I hug him back, he moans, and I feel his nose against my neck. “You still look the same.”

“So do you, A-bear.” Dang it, I didn’t mean to call him by his nickname. Now he’s going to think I’m willingly talking to him. That I’ve forgiven him. Not by a long shot.

“Thank you for picking me up.” He sounds emotional, but he clears his throat, and his gaze roams over me. I’m just over five-foot-five, making me about five inches shorter than him. Yet, every time he has ever looked at me, I feel tiny. I’m not by any means small. I wear a size twenty and have at least eighty pounds to lose. But that doesn’t matter. I love who I am.

“You’re welcome. Let’s get your bags and get home. If we leave now, we will be ahead of the five o’clock traffic. No one wants to deal with that mess.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “This is true. San Francisco was terrible all the time.”

I cringe, realizing this will be a cakewalk for him. “Well, now you’re back in Summerfield where there’s only two stoplights and one way in and out of the city. Back to good ole country living.”

“Eh, I prefer the city.” Another dagger to my heart as I realize how different we truly are. It’s a good thing he left and didn’t get saddled with me. I’m a homebody and want nothing more than to enjoy a night in with my son and cat and watch reruns of Haven.

“Well, let’s get going then.” Picking up one of his bags for him, I walk out of the airport before I suffocate.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I haven’t kept tabs on Julie since I broke my arm over eight years ago. Sure, I watch her socials, but there’s very little on there. It feels like I’ve missed a vital part of the person who has been my whole world.

It shows how far we have drifted apart. The car ride is stifling because Julie refuses to talk to me. Damn, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed her or that I should have kept tabs on her. I reach to turn on the radio, and she slaps my hand.

My dick jolts at the contact, and I close my eyes as she speaks. “Driver picks the music, and you know it.” A small smile tugs at my mouth as I remember slapping her hand all those years ago.

“Fine, but it better not be some pop shit,” I grumble and look out the window. The fact she remembered the rules makes me so damn happy I could squeal like a little girl. As I think that, my mind turns dirty, and I want to hear those squeals coming from her. I remember how she sounded when I took her. How she made me want to beg for her to keep moaning my name. Shit, this isn’t appropriate right now.

As the radio comes on and Rosenfield’s “Do It For Me” blares, I can’t help but smirk. “Oh, look at you, naughty girl.” Julie scrambles to turn the radio from her Spotify playlist, and a full belly laugh comes out of me.

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