Page 90 of Light My Fire

That is so unlike me that I’m actually worried.

She doesn’t need me checking on her. She has friends. She has a family. She has a huge, ex-hockey goalie brother. She doesn’t need a forty-year-old guy who fucked her against the wall, suddenly becoming an overprotective guardian of some sort.

I’m sure she’s fine. She went back to Minneapolis and is taking her exams.

Those are probably going well. She’s obviously bright, extremely dedicated, and she’s going to be an incredible veterinarian.

There is absolutely no reason for me to text her. Ever.

But if I have to sit in my house by myself, I’m going to do it. And ruin everything.

Which is why I am pulling open the door to one of my favorite bars and praying to God that one of the women that I hook up with from time to time is here and in the mood to have some hot fun.

I need some beer, some darts with buddies, and then I need to fuck Brooke Wilder out of my system.

The heat, noise, and smell of fried food and beer hits me as I step into Eddie’s.

The bar is two blocks from my place, so an easy walk after I’ve had a few. Also easy to walk with a “date” after convincing her to come home with me.

I’m relieved to see that Ben, Gavin, and Mitch are all here. We don’t really have a relationship where we text and say, ‘hey let’s meet up’. But I can usually count on them being here a couple times a week. Ben is divorced, Gavin is still single, and Mitch is married to an ER doctor who works crazy hours, sothey’re all pretty available and all of them hate sitting at home far more than I do.

Randy, the bartender, sees me coming and opens a bottle of Bud for me and hands it over just as I get to the bar.

“Hey, Cap,” he greets.

“Hey,” I return as I take the bottle and head for the area at the back where the dartboards are. I know he’ll just automatically put it on the tab I pay once a month.

“Damn,” Ben says. “You’re never here this early.”

It’s true. As much as I like these guys and hanging out, I’m not a real social guy, so I’m usually the last to arrive and first to leave.

“Your lucky night,” I tell him.

Tonight is different because I needed distraction, stat.

And I realize this is a problem.

I’m hoping like hell that with time, thoughts of Brooke will not be a twenty-four-seven problem. Over time, surely her memory will fade. I won’t remember her scent, her smile, the silkiness of her skin, how easy it was to make her blush, the tight grip of her body around my cock, the way she begged for me to fuck her…

“Luke,” Gavin says.

My attention snaps to him. “Yeah?”

“You’re up.”

Fuck. Surely with time, this will get better.

It has to.

We play for about an hour before Carrie and a couple of her friends make their way over to us. I noticed them about thirty minutes ago and we made eye contact, but I tried to concentrate on the game.

I was also trying to work up enthusiasm over seeing her.

Carrie is a beautiful, thirty-four-year-old divorcee who I’ve had three very hot nights with.

She likes things the way I do—a little rough, a lot dirty—and she doesn’t expect a phone call the next day. She also doesn’t need a lot of sweet talk and flirtation ahead of time.

She is exactly what I need tonight.

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