Page 2 of Courtside

“Life’s too short to pretend that some people aren’t really fuckin’ awesome, and others aren’t really fuckin’ terrible.” Maggie shrugged, stepping away toward the other end of the bar. “And I have a feelin’ that you’re pretty fuckin’ awesome.”

Sage couldn’t help but grin at that, watching as Maggie turned to take orders at the other end of the bar. Grabbing her margarita, Sage swiveled on her stool until she was facing the rest of the courtyard, crossed one knee over the other, and settled in to watch.

Like many college students, Sage had spent most of the past four years going out on the weekends. The first two years had mostly been frat parties or other house parties, with the occasional club trip facilitated by averyquestionable fake ID that said she was a thirty year old woman named Dorthea Wiggenshoe. Once she and her roommates had moved to their house off campus, they gladly gave up the frat parties in favor of bars and clubs.

In that time, Sage had gotten very good at reading a room. More specifically, she’d gotten good at evaluating potential…suitors? No, that wasn’t right. Fuck buddies?

Sure.

Sage wasverygood at scoping out potential fuck buddies, and tonight, all that she wanted was to get tipsy and find someone to go home with. She wanted to get lost in the high of initial attraction, and ride the wave until she was in the bed of a man with facial hair and a big body who’d do deliciously wicked things to her until she’d had enough and decided to go home.

She was self-aware enough to know that she didn’t appeal to the entirety of the male population. Her height alone — six feet — was a non-starter for about seventy five percent of the men in Charleston. Then there was the fact that she had the body of someone who’d spent long hours in the gym. Even though she’d lost a lot of her muscle throughout college, she’d never been able to walk away from the routine of lifting and running.

Her body hadn’t caught on to the fact that there was nothing to train for. Not anymore.

But it still showed. It showed in the definition of her shoulders, in the way her thighs filled the legs of her jeans and in the build of her arms. And in general, Sage fuckinglovedher powerful body, but she was a realist and knew that not all men would be into it.

It just meant that she looked carefully, searching for signs of potential compatibility before making a move. Sage’s type, according to Cori, was “tall and ancient,” to which Sage had argued that preferring men with adult jobs over college frat boys who all had navy blue sheets and smelled like Irish Spring was basic logic. Height was the one thing she most frequently had to compromise on, but she made sure to look for bulk and mass that wouldn’t be intimidated by her strength.

And even though it was just a hookup — for her, it wasalwaysjust a hookup — Sage couldn’t help but look for a genuine smile, a wide-mouthed laugh, and kind eyes. There was something about the look in a man’s eyes where she couldimmediatelyget a sense for what he was about.

She’d only been wrong once.

Tonight the crowd was definitely the after work crew: men still in slacks and button-downs with the sleeves rolled up, or in branded polo shirts with khakis. There were a few outliers — three bikers in leathers with bandanas wrapped around their long, graying hair, two skinny white guys in tight jeans and black t-shirts who were ogling Maggie like she was a free VIP pass to Lollapalooza, and a group of six men, all wearing some version of athletic gear.

Her eyes snagged on the last group. They were sitting around a table, but a few looked like they could have the height. The three whose faces she could see were…well, they were decent looking, but didn’t do anything in particular for her. The other three were facing away from her — one with a shaved head, one with a backwards cap, and the last one with reddish blonde curls. Two of them had broad backs — a good sign.

She’d keep an eye on them.

Taking a long drink of her margarita, she looked over at one of the business bros who looked somewhat promising. He was tall…ish. Maybe had an inch on her? He was the kind of generic, good looking guy who worked out, had a jawline, and wore his dirty blonde hair parted to one side. Decent, but unremarkable. Maybe he was one of those people who was better off once you talked to them?

Movement back at the athletic gear table caught her attention. The man in the backwards hat rose from the table, andfuckhe was tall. Like, maybe even 6’5” tall. His back was wide, muscles stretching against the fabric of his white t-shirt, and the black athletic shorts he wore only reached about halfway down thick thighs that were covered in a smattering of dark hair.

When he turned around, her entire body stilled. Breathing, blinking, fidgeting — it all stopped with the exception of her heartbeat, which seemed to get louder and louder until it was pounding like a bass drum in her ears.

He was the kind of big that said that he used to be an athlete — maybe still was — but age had softened him slightly, leaving bulk in the place of lean, defined muscle. From the front, she could see the V of his quads above his knees that indicated that he probably hit the leg press when he worked out.

Fuckdid she love some defined thighs.

And hisface. She guessed he was somewhere between 30 and 40, based on the laugh lines etched into the corners of his dark eyes. Brown hair stuck out from under his hat, long enough that it was almost curling over his forehead and around the nape of his neck. His face was clean-shaven, although there was the hint of afternoon shadow gathering along his strong jaw. His mouth rested in an easy smile, and Sage couldn’t take her eyes off of him, tracking him as he walked toward the bar.

He was the kind of good looking that she felt in her entire body. The fine blonde hairs on her arms pricked, and she shifted in her seat in a failed attempt to relieve the distinct heat between her legs.

She registered the exact moment when he noticed her stare. His eyes met hers and he came to a sudden stop, focusing on her with heavy, earnest attention. She felt his gaze like a physical touch against her skin.

Sage refused to look away. She knew that some people preferred to play coy, to pretend that they weren’t interested, but in her mind, why lie? When a man looked likethat, why the fuck would she pretend?

She knew what she wanted.

He looked at her,reallylooked at her, and when his eyes trailed down her body, she felt her skin heat under his attention.

The man looked back up into her eyes and smiled. It was a good smile, one that was almost nervous as it creased the skin around his dark eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth just in time to watch his tongue dart out and wet his upper lip as he walked toward her, his long legs and easy stride on full display.

She didn’t take her eyes away as he approached, sliding onto the empty stool beside her. He shifted so that he faced her, his long legs bent and one of his thick forearms braced on the bar in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice graveled and warm in a way that reminded her of a country singer in a rural bar. He was the kind of man who belonged on the pages of one of her Western romances, all big and dark-eyed and messy-haired under his baseball cap.

“Hi,” she replied. Up close she could see that his eyes were a rich brown, framed by feminine eyelashes, with unruly, expressive brows. His nose was prominent, but didn’t look at all out of place with the rest of his features.

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