Page 4 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

I know. Grinning as I recall how one minute, I was finishing my beer to the sound of spinning keys around my best friend’s finger, and the next, chanting was filling my ears.“Shot. Shot. Shot.”

I sawhimfirst, an asshole ready to take advantage of an opportunity. The opportunity—a certain blonde in a loose white shirt, wide open between the top two buttons. Cutoffs reveal a lot of leg—shapely tan thighs—and a brown leather belt hangs around her waist more for decoration than for a purpose. Her sandals, only noticeable if you’re looking for them, don’t add any height. Bracelets of silver and gold with touches of turquoise covered her wrists, and the bar’s raggedy shot hat had just been placed on her head. Clearly, I spent more than a few seconds taking her in without regret.

She was a vision in any state—from New York to California, drunk or sober—but it wasn’t her outfit that had me acting on instinct and running into others to get to her. It was the asshole bragging about fucking her before she realized what hit her. Sure, I could have snapped back that no one would even know he was fucking her since he has a minuscule dick. But the hard lines of his face and the anger found in his dark eyes had me believing he meant what he said, not in jest or as a threat, but as a mission he intended to complete.

I should have punched him in the fucking face, but I didn’t have time. I dashed the second my attention was grabbed by the sound of a squeal, the sight of arms in the air, and the pretty woman flying toward the floor.

Because I’m good with my hands, I’ve caught everything from the attention of college football scouts to a swordfish on vacation. I’ve also been called a golden boy my whole life growing up in the Golden State. But catching this girl right before she hit the floor might be my best catch yet.

She weighed nothing but made quite the impression. I flexed my fingers under her back to rid myself of some weird energy burning through me.God, I sound like my mom.

I swore I’d never believe in that New Age stuff. She did her best to preach it, but logic has to play a part in our outcomes. But there’s no logical answer as to why I’m still thinking about the woman I held for so long as if more was at play than two people colliding into each other’s lives without their permission.

The back of Harrison’s hand lands on my chest. “Nice save, but why’d you let her get away?”

“She’s free to do as she pleases.”

“What?” he asks, his brow careening between his eyes. “No, I mean, why didn’t you get her number? She was hot, and the way you held on to her was like you had no intention of letting her go. It was becoming awkward watching the two of you cling?—”

“We weren’t clinging to each other. I was?—”

Shaking his head, he says, “Save it, Nick. I don’t need to hear about you falling for some chick.”

“Technically,shewas the one who fell.”

“Let’s not make this weird.” He nods toward the door. “Taylor put us on the list. We’ve got to go before the yacht leaves the dock.”

I follow him toward the door, but not without stopping by the asshole on my way out. “Today’s your lucky fucking day because if we ever cross paths or you go within thirty feet of that woman again, you’ll be flat on the ground before you know what hit you. Got it, fucker?”

He stands up but quickly realizes he has to look up to meet my eyes and sits back down. “Fuck off,” he grumbles through a wiry beard.

My arm is caught before I have a chance to land a hit. “He’s not worth it,” Harrison says.

He’s right.

This fucker also isn’t worth a night in jail.

As the asshole cowers on the barstool with his head lowered, flinching from a hit that won’t come, I lower my arm. “Lucky fucking day.”

The conversation slowly resumes as Harrison and I head for the exit. My friend laughs under his breath just outside the entrance. “What gives, Christiansen? We haven’t been in a fight in a long time.” Cracking his knuckles, he adds, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m up for it, but why are we fighting some guy twice our age in Catalina?”

“He needs a lesson in . . .”Blonde. Tan. Blue-eyed beauty.

“In what?” Harrison asks as he whacks me in the arm.

Ripping my gaze away from the blue-eyed beauty kneeling beside a scooter, I glance at Harrison. “Huh?”

When I return my attention to her again, I hear him grumble. “Ah. It’s all so clear now.”

I seize the moment. “This is a coincidence. Hi, again,” I say, raising a hand while my voice pitches like a thirteen-year-old hitting puberty.What the fuck?Clearing my throat, I mentally berate myself for sounding like an idiot.

Harrison and both of the women turn to look at me. The blonde stands up with a reassuring grin on her face and shoves her hands into her back pockets. “Hi again, yourself.”

I’m not the only one seizing the day. Harrison saunters up and asks her friend, “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Trouble with a capital T. Hi, I’m Tatum,” she says.

Harrison takes her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Harrison.”

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