Page 2 of Taking Chances

“Yeah. That’s rough.” He tips his bottle so we each take another sip, my head finally relaxing from overthinking. “Why did you think he was going to propose?”

“He acted like he was crazy about me.”Did I imagine that?“At least, it seemed that way. He was the one who proposed us moving in together. And we were supposed to go skating next week. . .” My voice trails off as tears reappear in the corners of my eyes, now threatening to fall.

“Skating?” His magazine-worthy face scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, skating. Open air ice skating, the single most romantic thing that a couple can do. In public.” He snorts, making me sigh. “It was my dream proposal. Open air skating rink reserved just for us. Hozier playing in the background. Pink rose petals scattered everywhere. He gets down on one knee, I say yes, and we spin together like a pair of Olympic figure skaters.” Myromantic heart quivers in my rib cage, though a hint of despair chokes it.

“Was?” he asks.

“What?” I may have trailed off to a dream land where Bryce didthatinstead of going off and falling in love with another.

“You said itwasyour dream proposal?”

“Yes. I’m done with relationships, starting today.”

He lets out a chuckle, but I don’t have it in me to argue.

“I really thought he loved me. But his look today, the look he got talking about his priceless assistant he fell in love with—I never got that look.” I pick at the napkin in front of me. “Not sure if I only imagined it, wanting so bad to be in a loving relationship.” My cheeks blush deeply at the confession, so I down the rest of my glass. “Guess it’s time for another drink.” I start to get up, but he stops me and heads to the bar himself.

He’s a blur of black clothes as he struts to the bar, but I imagine he has a great ass. The thought makes me laugh and I’m still laughing as he gets back.

2

LENNOX

The little firecracker is laughing by herself as I get back to the booth, and I have a hard time looking away. Her skin is flushed underneath a sprinkle of freckles, her mascara is slightly smeared around her deep green eyes, and her lips are plump and pink. She’s sweet and uncorrupted and so unlike the women I typically spend my time with.

But still, I stay.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, draping my jacket over the booth. Her gin and tonic is extra skinny, courtesy of me slipping some cash to the bartender. She should probably be cut off, but I want to hear what pops out of her mouth next.

Her face scrunches and a few strands of copper hair fall over her eyes. “Hmm, I actually forgot what I was laughing about.” My hands itch to put her hair behind her ear, but I plop them firmly on the table. “You don’t look familiar.” Her brows lower again as she focuses on my face. Before I can respond, a wild hand reaches over the table and pulls off my beanie. “Oh,” she says, her mouth dropping.

“Is there a problem?” I smirk, taking a sip of my beer.

“You’re blond,” she responds, half disgusted.

“Let me guess, you don’t like blond guys.”

“Women typically don’t.”

A laugh escapes me. She’s so unexpectedly refreshing. “I heard. It’s why I got the tattoos.” I look down at my full sleeves now on display. She sizes me up, the fire of her hair reflecting in her eyes for a split second.

“They help, I guess.” Once more, I can’t help but chuckle. “But you were so close to being a perfect sample of the men in my books.”

“Yeah? And what kind of men are those?”

“You know.” She waves her hand. “Tall, dark, tattooed bad boys with nine-inch wieners.” Her hand clamps on her mouth as soon as the words come out.

I roar with laughter. “What kind of books do you read, Firecracker?”

A flush creeps up her ample, though mostly hidden, cleavage up to the tops of her cheeks. I wonder what other body parts could take on that gorgeous color.

“Doesn’t matter. Those men are definitely only fictional.”

“You sure about that? I, for one, check every box except the dark one.” I wink and her face turns an even deeper shade of red. Her tongue darts out and licks her lips, a stark contrast from the shyness in her cheeks. Something stirs inside my jeans.

She snaps out of the trance. “What I was saying is you don’t look familiar. Do you come here often?”

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