Page 27 of His Last Shot
His head whips to mine as a huge grin graces his perfect lips, and a chuckle vibrates through him. “What?”
“I mean, come on. That has to be the reason a woman hasn’t snatched you up yet. Have you seen you?”
He shrugs. “I thought the man staring back at me in the mirror tonight before I left the house looked pretty good.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You know what I mean. I’ve seen how women flock to you at the bar.” He arches one eyebrow. “Do you have a secret wife and kids, a third nipple like Chandler onFriends, or do you catfish people on the internet?” I gasp mockingly. “Are you a closeted cat lady?” His billowing laugh fills the night air. “I’m serious.”
“I promise you, I am none of thosethings.”
“Then how come you’re still single? Have you even tried looking, or are you happy being alone? You are quite the catch, in case you didn’t know.”
His brow relaxes as his eyes soften. “And somehow, I can’t catch you.”
Whoa.
My eyes burn, and something thick lodges in my throat at his honest retort. I push it down, redirecting my attention back to the sky.
Why did I start this conversation?
After a few tense passing minutes, he shifts to his side on the mattress, facing me. “I never found the right woman.” It’s my turn to shift and face him as I tuck my arm under my head, settling in to receive the answers I asked for. “I guess you could say I have a reputation for being a serial dater, not a killer. A reputation I’ve leaned into. And I’ve played the part well, even though it’s not really who I am.”
The night air picks up, and a piece of his dark blonde hair falls on his forehead. My hand has a mind of its own. It reaches out and swipes it away. “Why would you play into that?”
His eyes search my face. “It’s a defense mechanism, I think. But the constant chasing and dating, at my age, is getting old. I’ve always wanted to settle down, have a wife and a family. That’s why I tried so hard with Julie.”
Julie? I already hate her.“Who’s Julie?” I ask with a thinning breath.
He turns onto his back, tucking his arm behind his head while running his tongue over his top teeth. “I met her through mutual friends, and we hit it off right away. She was gorgeous. Huge green eyes with fiery red hair. She had a nose dotted with freckles and beautifully pale skin. It would always turn pink when she was in the sun for longer than five minutes. She was gorg—”
“You already said that. I get it. She’s pretty. Move on, please.”
The scowl on my face must be pretty big, because he flicks his eyes at me briefly and smirks. “The lady doth protest too much.”
“Funny.” I tuck my arm closer to my chest for warmth. Or maybe a shield.
He shifts slightly as his socked foot drifts toward my feet in a slow slide against the mattress. It brushes against mine. My breath hitches. A single touch fromhim pulls me from the cold water my thoughts were in, and it’s as if I’m encased in his arms. And only our toes are touching.
He continues. “At first, the relationship was going well. We were having fun. My family loved her. My mom loved her. She was great. We were great together.”
“So, what was the problem?”
“After a few months, I slowly realized that she just wasn’t the woman for me. And that made me sad, you know?”
“Because you would have to break her heart.”
He lets out a long, weary sigh. “Yeah.”
“How did she take it?” My head is buzzing with anticipation, wanting to know how this ends.
His focus never leaves the full moon. “I didn’t break it off right away.”
“You led her on!?” I smack him in the chest, but before I can pull my hand away, he snatches it and covers it with his own, resting them on his chest. His thumb begins to rub small circles on my flesh. Goosebumps erupt up my arm.
“I know it sounds that way. But I wanted to try. She checked off every single box. It should have been working. Eventually though”—he squeezes my hand—“after being together for six months, I broke it off. She was devastated and told me that I was the love of her life. She begged me to not give up on us. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all I was doing was trying.” He sighs. “That was a hard day.”
“I’m sorry.”
He finally turns to face me, still grasping my hand as he grins. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
