Page 39 of Recon Rendezvous

Gem smiles and gives a little swoon. “I don't know. I just wanted to hear how it sounded, you know. But anyway, I'm with Mia. Have some fun. You're too fucking hot to not bounce on as many dicks as possible.”

There’s a beat of silence as we look at each other before we burst into laughter.

Mia clutches her stomach as she shouts, “Look at my girl! All grown up. I love my whore besties! You make me prouder every day.”

The chatter warms me as we clear the table, transferring everything to the kitchen island or the refrigerator.

“Would you still fuck a guy if he had gray pubes?” Mia asks, literally out of nowhere. In unison they turn to me.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

Sasha shrugs. “Because you're thirty, so we can only assume you've seen gray pubes.”

“I’ll answer, but first, please stop saying pubes. No, I haven’t yet, but I don’t see why not,” I say. “I could be into older men one day. What about you?”

Mia makes a face. “I don’t know. In my mind, I want an older guy, you know, but not gray pubes older.”

“Not gray pubes older. That just became our phrase of the night,” Gem says as she throws the last of the containers away, and we move into the family room.

“Or the name of our podcast episode.” Sasha laughs.

Settling on the couch, I expel a healing breath as we cuddle together, and they convince me to watch a surprisingly intriguing dating show where people “date” and potentially fall in love without seeing each other.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this! No worries, we’ll catch you up on all the shows you’ve been missing out on. We still need to know whether you’re Team Damon or Team Stefan,” Gem says, eyes trained on the enormous flat screen.

“Or Team Enzo or Elijah and Klaus,” Mia adds dreamily.

Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders and cuddling deeper in the cushions, my mind wanders through today’s events. The highs and lows mingling, leaving me with an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach.

It’s hard to admit, but Xander continues to surprise me in all the best ways. He’s funny and charismatic, like the girls said. But when you speak with him, he’s completely engaged—those dark eyes miss nothing when they’re locked on you with such intensity, like you’re the most interesting person in the world. It makes me feel powerful. Beautiful.

The other night at the club was more of the same. He’s so damn sexy and a relentless flirt. The dirty words that fell from those lips… yeah, he’s getting harder to resist.

He continued to change my opinion the minute he took charge today. I hate to compare him to Travis, but instead of dismissing me, or providing a smidge of faux concern, he found a way for me to let go of my anger. I don't know what it is about smashing old electronics with a baseball bat, but he turned my shitty day back around. But when he took me in his arms, smelling of citrus, sandalwood, fresh sweat, and that subtle trace of chlorine, my needy body sucked up every inch of his hard frame pressed against mine. The rumble of his voice against my ear as he held me was oddly intimate. It’s been too long since I’ve been touched so tenderly and without a thought of it going somewhere else. Being held just to be held was nice. Comforting.

Trudging into my room after a belly full of two too many bottles of wine and a heart full of the support these girls provide without question, I stumble to the bedside table and flip on the light. I groan a little, grabbing the hem of my shirt, ready to tear it from my body and fall into bed, when a single long-stemmed red rose and long black box wrapped in a red satin bow catches my eye.

Anticipation swirls in my gut, because I have a feeling, I know who this is from. Moving to the foot of the bed, I flop onto the black chaise, lifting the rose to my nose before pulling the box into my lap. Giving it a little shake and a heft, I can’t evenguess what it is, as I give the bow a tug. Letting it drift to my feet, I open the box, remove the tissue paper, and gasp.

What the fuck…Scanning the box again, the burst of laughter that erupts from me is freeing as I fall back, hugging the box and the precious contents to my chest.

Whatever game we’re playing, I’m ready, and I always play to win.

CHAPTER TWELVE

XANDER

The loud knock at the door pulls me from the reports I’m reviewing and the smile that tugs at my lips almost feels foreign. Taking my time, I straighten up, put my laptop away, close the door to my office, and follow the sound of persistent knocking. Stepping into the foyer, I give myself a onceover in the mirror and run a hand over my tie. After another forceful knock, I finally make my way to the door and fling it open.

Throwing on my most shit eating grin, I exclaim, “London? Couldn’t stay away? Why am I not surprised.”

She narrows those damn cat eyes and practically hisses, “Seriously? Your little doorman called and told you I was on my way up.”

I tilt my head, as if trying to remember any such phone call before snapping my fingers. “Oh, I thought he said my delivery was here from theLynden Grill.”

Her mouth tightens as she assesses me. “Fine. I’ll happily hang out with Drew. He’s available tonight.”

This time, it’s my eyes that narrow. “You don’t want to play that game with me. I fucking dare you. Get in here. It’salways a pleasure, but I’m oh so curious of what brings you by, unexpectedly.”

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