Page 2 of Stuffed

As the captain of the cheer squad, student body president, and valedictorian of my graduating class, Zane Mercer and I didn’t come close to running in the same circles. Apart from the fact he was three years older than me and I was friends with his younger brother Asher, he was also not the kind of influence any young girl’s parents wanted their daughter around.

A memory of the last time I remember seeing him in person flashes through my mind. It was the summer after my freshman year of college and I was back in my small town in the suburbs of Chicago. My mom had sent me a text, before I left my apartment in the city that I shared with Ivy, to let me know she saw the Mercer boys in town. She informed me in case I wanted to make a point to say hi to Asher while I was home. I did want to make a point to say hi to one of the Mercer brothers… but it wasn’t Asher.

The sun burns the skin of my bare arms as I lift my arm to shield my eyes from its piercing rays. The summer is starting off strong with temperatures in the high eighties and humidity already nearing August levels. The outfit I took a painstaking amount of time choosing now suddenly feels too childish when I look down at the flowery one-piece romper that makes me look like an overgrown toddler.

“Shit,” I mutter, tugging at the material in an attempt to pull it down a little lower, showing off what little cleavage I have. I straighten my back, squaring my shoulders as I fluff up my hair and close my car door with my hip.

I may or may not have purposely parked my car on the main street in town, right down the block from Mr. Mercer’s insurance office, when I noticed Zane’s telltale black Corvette he’s driven since high school.

“You’re not an innocent sixteen-year-old anymore,” I whisper to my nearly nineteen-year-old self, convinced that having finally lost my V-card to a guy in college meant that I was a grown-ass woman.

That is until a minute later when Zane himself walks out of his dad’s office with his arm around a woman with a body like an actual Coke bottle. For the first time, I understand what that reference meant. His hands move from her waist to her ass, both of them grabbing a handful of her and tugging her closer till she falls against him with a squeal.

I freeze on the sidewalk, my face burning as he backs her against his car, sliding her up onto the hood while he bends her back and drags his tongue down her neck to her tits. It’s the middle of the day and Zane Mercer takes the opportunity to once again show the world he doesn’t give a fuck about the rules; he’s going to do what he wants.

Trying to avoid being noticed, I spin around, tripping over my own feet and falling to one knee. “Ouch!” I wince, glancing down at the red and slightly bloody road rash. But I don’t have time to linger; I’m too embarrassed, standing up and limping away back to my car where I cringe silently, praying he was too engrossed in Miss Coke Bottle’s tits to witness that.

"You look like you're hunting for someone," Ivy says, surprising me, pulling me back to the present. I turn just as she appears beside me with two glasses of champagne. Shehands me one, a knowing smirk playing on her crimson-painted lips, her black dress hugging her body and accentuating her décolletage.

I take a long sip of the bubbles, pushing the embarrassment that still lingers from that memory out of my mind and trying to appear casual even as my eyes continue their covert scan of the room. "I'm networking. Isn't that why we're here?"

"Right." She draws out the word, clearly not buying it. "And your networking has nothing to do with a certain Mercer brother whom you secretly swooned over in your diary?"

"I never had a diary," I protest, though we both know that's a lie. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, shouldn't you be more focused on your own Mercer situation? You should see the way that man has been eye fucking you from across the room."

Ivy blushes, glancing over at where Asher stands talking to a group of investors. Unlike his brother, Asher is all easy smiles and charm, his golden hair catching the light as he laughs at something someone said. "That's… different."

"Different how?" I challenge, but my words trail off as I finally spot him.

Zane Mercer stands by the windows, his back to me, looking just as broad-shouldered and intense as I remember. His dark suit is perfectly tailored, outlining a body that seems even more impressive than it was in high school. His profile is sharp against the glittering city lights as he talks to some suit-clad businessman, his arms crossed, radiating that familiar 'don't approach me' energy that used to both intimidate and intrigue me.

"Go talk to him." Ivy nudges me with her elbow. "You're not in high school anymore, Tess. Now you can use those tits and that ridiculous wit to charm him into bed."

"I didn’t say I was going to—" I start to protest, but Ivy's already walking away, throwing me a thumbs-up over her shoulder. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie about my intentions with Zane. Sure, there’s a touch of ego in there, wanting him to see me now that I’m grown-up, but I’m also not above having a hot holiday fling with him.

I take a deep breath, smoothing down my red cocktail dress. The one I spent an hour painstakingly choosing just for tonight. The back dips low, leaving my skin exposed, a stark contrast to the high neck. It makes me feel powerful, in control of my sexuality. However, the confidence I've built over the years suddenly feels paper-thin, but I push forward anyway.

The closer I get to him, the quieter the surrounding noise becomes and the louder my stilettos sound, clicking against the marble floor. I take in a shaky breath, his back still facing me when I approach him.

"Well, if it isn't Zane Mercer," I say, injecting my voice with more confidence than I feel. "Still avoiding the crowd, I see."

He turns, and for a moment, something flickers in his dark eyes—recognition, maybe surprise. But then it's gone, replaced by that maddeningly neutral expression he's perfected. His jaw is still as sharp as I remember, his dark hair styled in that purposefully messy way that probably took an hour to achieve. A five o’clock shadow gives his otherwise clean-cut image an edge.

"Tessa Marlow," he says, my name rolling off his tongue in that gravelly voice that still makes my stomach flip. "Didn't think you'd be here."

He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a healthy sip. That’s when I notice the tattoos on his hands. My eyes must linger on them longer than I realize because his gaze drifts from mine to his own hand with a chuckle.

"No?” I say, pulling my gaze back to his eyes. “And miss a chance to crash a Mercer party?" I raise an eyebrow, channelingevery ounce of sass I possess. I pause for a moment, hoping he might reference a memory I still have of seeing him at one of their high school parties. Technically, it wasn’t their party, it was Zane’s party—Asher just let a few of us sneak in. But he doesn’t bite so I continue. "Besides, your brother's helping with our bakery. Or didn't you hear?"

His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Heard something about it. Asher's always picking up new…” He pauses, offering a smirk. “Projects."

The way he says 'projects' isn’t exactly complimentary and I don’t need to be a genius to see he probably couldn’t care less about said project. Ten years later and he still has the ability to get under my skin with just a few words.

"Is that all you think this is? A project?"

"Isn't it?" He turns to face me fully now, his height forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. My mouth goes dry. I forgot what an imposing figure Zane Mercer is. His cologne wraps around me—a scent I’m not familiar with but instantly makes my head spin. "My brother's always had a soft spot for lost causes."

"Lost causes?" I step closer, irritation making me bold. The champagne probably helps too. "Our bakery is suc—is not a lost cause, Zane. And what a rude thing to say.” I lift my glass to my lips to let it go but my frustration gets the best of me. “We didn't come here begging for handouts. We came because your brother saw potential in what we've built. Not that you'd know anything about that, since you're too busy sulking in corners to actually pay attention to what's happening around you."

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