Page 19 of If You Stayed

I studied the darkened road ahead as Ramona went into overdrive from excitement. The party was impressive, I’d give her that, but our goal wasn’t to be as social as Ramona had been that evening. If anything, she’d crossed one too many lines.

“I thought we agreed to a three-drink maximum,” I said as my hand stayed glued to the leather steering wheel. Personally, I’d only had one drink, but that was because I knew I was still in work mode. If people weren’t my family or friends, then they were my work colleagues or clients, and I had a strong belief that my work colleagues or clients should never see me intoxicated. It would make me too human for them, and that wasnever a good thing.

People respected you more if there was a bit of mystery to you. If they saw you off-kilter, they’d work like hell to remember you in that flawed state as a way to have power over you. I’d learned that fact the hard way.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Everyone was drunk,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

“That’s because you’re a buzzkill.” She reached into her small clutch and pulled out two pieces of gum. She popped them into her mouth and chewed them like a camel. “So…what should we do now?” she asked, taking a piece of her hair and twirling it around her finger.

Remember how I’d learned that fact the hard way?

Ramona was my hard way.

One too many late nights in the office led to one too many hookups.

We’d only hooked up once, but like I said, it was one too many.

Now, she thought it was appropriate to call me a buzzkill and wonder what we’d do after a party.

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m taking you home, and then I’ll see you at work.”

“Or,” she offered, “you could stay at my place.”

“Ramona,” I said sternly.

She pouted. “Gabriel.”

“We’ve talked about this. What happened between us was—”

“Fucking fantastic,” she drunkenly sang. “I really appreciatedthat thing you did with your tongue when you licked my as—”

“Ramona.”

“Gabriel.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I am.” She spread her legs and moved her hand between them. “And horny.”

I ignored her, which made her huff and puff. “You’re so boring sometimes. I liked you better when you drank.”

“Of course, you did. I wasn’t myself when I drank.”

“I could learn to like you sober, too, you know.”

I already knew where the conversation would begin in the morning. She’d come into work and state how she didn’t remember anything from the night prior. Even though she probably did. It had happened a few times before. After holiday parties. During work celebrations. Ramona was a professional at hitting on me while she was drunk and then pretending like it never happened.

Ramona wasn’t an awful hookup. She was beautiful and gifted in the bedroom, but that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that ever since then, she’d looked at me with hopeful eyes. As if I’d someday give her more than that one night. That was a big issue because I didn’t give myself away to anyone.

I was what my mother called the ultimate playboy. I didn’t have the willingness to settle down with one woman. I’d never had that pull. I loved women—I did. In all shapes, sizes, and flavors. Still, I had a solid rule when it came to my hookups. The moment their eyes looked hopeful was the moment I’d have to cut them loose. It was for their own good. Nothinggood came from falling for a man like me. my careerwasmy life.. There wasn’t much room for anything else to exist within my realm.

Which was why it was odd how much Kierra remained on my mind after the evening came to an end. Most of the time, I kept to myself, but for some reason I’d felt a magnetic pull toward her all evening. I’d found myself searching for her out of the corner of my eye time and time again. Why was that? Hell if I knew. All I knew was there was something about her that just felt…right. I wasn’t a people person. I was never one to seek out connections, but something about Kierra Hughes made me oddly want to wake up early to get a damn muffin.

Kierra was beautiful. As stunning as a person could’ve ever been. Beautiful smooth brown skin, entrancing dark-chocolate eyes, and full lips painted red. She wore gold jewelry and her dress hugged every curve of her body. She smelled like gardenias, too. Gardenias and honeysuckle.

Fuck, why did I know that? Why did her scent linger in my nostrils every time after we’d crossed paths tonight?

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