Page 40 of Hat Trick Holidate

A line between her eyes appears. “When did he leave me at the altar? Eight years ago.”

Strumming my fingers on the table, I make some mental calculations. “My rookie year. So, you came here with your brother for his away game? And you went to the club without him? And…”

“And you found me.”

I found her.

Magnetized to her hips.

Hypnotized by the way she moved with me.

The air between us is heavy. “We shared something special.” My fingers crawl up her arm. “It was fate.”

“IstheBryce Wynward a hopeless romantic?” she asks with a sultry tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with telling people how you feel. I’ve thought about you nearly every day since that night. That’s a lot of days—over two-thousand nights. And you starred in my dreams every single time.”

She stutters, “That… that was my first and only one-night stand. You helped me realize I was desirable.”

“Are desirable. Youaredesirable. I want to fuck you on this table.”

“Hot. Not romantic.”

“Do you ever want to be romantic, or do you like ithotevery time?”

Her breath hitches. “I don’t know. Have you ever had a serious relationship? Ever been dumped at the altar? That would be something funny to have in common.” She giggles as she takes another sip.

“Not at the altar. Never engaged, but I dated someone all through college, but it turned out that she liked women better than me.” Her jaw drops in disbelief, and I want to stuff myself between those lips. “Emmaline, you’re going to swallow a bug if you keep your mouth open.”

“But you’re you… how could she… I mean you know how to please a woman. I can’t imagine a woman doing it better than you.” She seems uncomfortable, repositioning herself in the chair. “That’s crazy. Maybe you weren’t hitting the right spot.”

She sticks out her tongue.

Wiggles her brows.

Laughs at my expense. “So, you started going out with every bimbo in Atlanta to improve your skills?”

“Very funny, Rusti. Let’s order before I prove to you in front of this entire restaurant that I can hit your spot. Over and over.”

We glance over the menus laying on the table. “And by the way, I’ve got mad eating skills, and you were the best meal I’ve ever had.”

I lean back in my chair, a cocky smirk teasing her with my legs spread casually as if I’m in control.

“Not romantic.” Her eyes glitter. She playfully kicks me under the table and her eyes betray her emotions—a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

I skim her leg with my foot. “Then why are you squirming in your seat? Thinking about that night? Do you like it when I talk about eating?—”

She interrupts me, trying to hide behind the menu. “I’ll take the seared salmon alfredo.”

God, I love how her skin turns the color of a ripe peach when she’s hot and bothered or embarrassed. Emmaline Rustavelli is perfect for me. I can’t wait to tell Brooke that her app paired me with everything I wanted even though I thought I was rigging it to not match me with someone. A chuckle rolls up my spine and comes out my mouth.

I wave the waiter over. “Mr. Wynward, what will you and the lovely lady be having?”

“She’ll have the seared salmon alfredo, and I’ll have thesteak burgundy with steamed asparagus. We’ll also take a bottle of your best Pinot Noir for dinner.”

“May I bring you another cocktail?”

Emmaline nods, and I look at the waiter’s name tag. “Yes, thank you, Brad.”

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