Page 14 of Play the Last Card

I don’t know anything about her, not really. Just that her smile reaches her eyes and she has this endless wonder shining back at me whenever our eyes meet. With a simple look across that tiny table in the back alley, she’d been begging for a glimpse into my soul and I'd be damned if I hadn’t wanted to give her one.

“I love this place. The atmosphere on a Saturday night during the offseason is epic,” Flynn comments as I hold the door open for him, trying to hold off glancing into the bar.

I can practice a bit of constraint.

I think.

“Burgers are alright. Had one the other week,” I reply, still avoiding the bar in the middle of the room.

“I could go for a burger. You want me to order?” Flynn asks looking around the bar and grinning.

I run a hand through my still damp hair, finally glancing around.

I’m about to say yes, wanting to slide into a booth and sulk because Ivy isn’t the one behind the bar, but as my eyes roam to whoisbehind the bar, and the girls’ eyes flash with recognition whilst they dart between me and Flynn, I change my mind.

“I’ll get it.” I nod for Flynn to sit down, making my way to the bar. Her name is … Ivy’s friend's name is …

Shit.

I replay the memories from the other night, trying to sort through the noise. Naturally, my memory of anything but Ivy’s soft lookinghair, deep blue eyes, and distracting curves are blurred and irrelevant. I apparently retained no other information thanIvy.

“Mystery man.” The friend smiles. “You’re out of luck. She isn’t here.”

“I see that.” Shit. Shit.Shit.What’s her name?

“You’d probably know that if you had given her your number,” she replies and I don’t miss the accusation in her tone.

“Uh …”

“You guys sat out there for a good thirty minutes and you didn’t even make a move. She thought something was in her teeth.”

I falter, Ivy’s smile filling my head. It makes my dick twitch in my pants. “I—”

“I assured her you were probably nervous.” She narrows her eyes at me. “She works again on Sunday. You can come back then. You know, to right your wrongs.”

“Ah.” Sunday.Sunday. Four days away. “Or …” I tap my fingers along the rounded edge of the bar. “You could give me her number and I could right that wrong now?”

The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Damn it.

I’m in Boston to play ball. That’s it. I don’t want—don’t need a relationship. I signed on for a year with the Broncos, hoping to take them to the Super Bowl, to get my ring, then to head back west and as far from this city as possible.

I’m not supposed to be actively chasing a girl.

I justhadto walk by the bar when she’d been working. Had to forget how to think and find myself inside, to let myself talk to her. Two meetings—two—has me asking for her number like I’m planning to actually text her.

The fucking kicker? I know I will.

Can’t wait to.

Before, I didn’t mind a one-night stand when I needed it. Didn’t mind sinking into someone willing to let me use them for the night but I haven’t actively pursued a woman in ages.

Ivy is different. Feels different.

And without even realizing it, I’ve been pursuing her since I saw her.

I really, really want to text her.

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