Page 5 of Chips & Checks
Women like her don’t just blow up rulebooks—they burn them down and make you wonder why you ever had rules in the first place.
Chapter One
Violet
I slide back into my seat at the table and whisper to Ash, “I’m bringing a friend. Don’t make it weird.”
“Don’t makewhatweird…?” Ash trails off, and her eyes bulge as the guy from the bar strolls over.
I’m not the kind of woman who gets distracted by a pretty face. I work with hot guys all the time. I’m good at putting my libido on lockdown. The same thing applies to tall men with incredible bodies. Truly, my job would be a permanent nightmare if I got overstimulated by every pair of rock-hard thighs that came to my attention.
But this new guy is hot enough to break through my practiced indifference—and then some.
His hair is a sandy brown with just enough sun-kissed gold to make it look expensive. Styled in that perfectly messy way that takes actual effort. His facial hair is trimmed tight around a jaw that could probably cut glass—rugged, not scruffy. Careful, curated chaos.
His body? Let’s just say… he clearly lifts. A lot. And not for aesthetics—though holy shit, the aesthetics are working for me. Broad chest, boulder shoulders, arms inked up with tribal-inspired tattoos that make me think of summer, sweat, and sin.
And tall. So tall, I look fun-sized next to him. Like he could pick me up with one arm and use the other to make it really hard to keep quiet.
Total spinner fantasy unlocked.
And yet, he’s smiling—easy, unbothered, like he doesn’t even realize how heart-attack handsome he is. It’s infuriating. And stupid hot.
God help me.
At that thought, I reach to pour myself some of the limoncello I just ordered.
Down, Vi. You don’t need to imagine what it would be like for this guy to pick you up and toss you around, even if he does have the muscles for it.
Aaaaand, great, now I’m imagining it. In vivid detail.
Like, wall-sex detail. Like, one hand under my ass, the other pinning my wrists above my head while I make sounds I’ve only ever heard in porn detail.
Woof.
But it’s not just the size of him. It’s the way he watches me like he’s already undressing me in his mind, but not just for fun. Like he’s studying me. Learning me.
I want to know what else those hands can do. What he sounds like when he groans. If he’s selfish in bed or the kind of man who’ll spend thirty minutes between my legs just to see me fall apart.
God. Can he do that? Or is he all looks and no follow-through?
Because if he’s got the goods and the skills to back it up… I might actually let myself be a little reckless.
“Hey, there.” Mr. Tall, Not Quite Blond, and Ripped beams down at us as he proffers his drinks. His hands are big enough to carry his beer and all three of our fresh drinks, two in each hand. Have I mentioned that he has very nice hands? It looks like he moisturizes.
“Hey,” I croak.Smooth, Vi.I clear my throat and try for a sultrier voice. “What did you bring us?”
“Peach bellinis.” He gestures the glasses toward us, like he’s trying to waft the smell in our direction. “Apparently, they’re a house specialty.”
“Not shots,” Ash observes. “Interesting.” Her expression is perfectly neutral. This man’s charms haven’t rubbed off on her yet. That tracks. Ash is particular about the people she spends her time with, and while she has been known to connect with people she’s just met, she’s a firm believer in the vetting process.
He smiles at her, and objectively speaking, my knees turn to jelly. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, or I might very well topple into a needy little heap at his feet. What’s wrong with me? I’m neverthisthirsty. It has beenwaytoo long since I got laid. I’m tempted to crawl across the table and sniff him.
Although, come to think of it, that might be the liquor talking.
“Shots go fast,” he says with a slight Midwestern accent, and his eyes flick toward me. “I prefer to take my time.”
Ash whistles. “Damn, sir. Okay, you can stay. What’s your name?”
