Page 8 of Accidental Theirs
As she storms away, I watch her walk off, and the tattoo on her lower back comes into view. A snippet of memory emerges of seeing it up close and personal.
Oh.
I’m an idiot. I went up and introduced myself to her, and it turns out we’ve already slept together.
Oops.
Her name is Hayden? Harley? Surely, not Harriet.
It’s hard to keep up with all the names.
I’ve been accused of being a womanizer, but in my defense, I always am upfront with my partners. I’m quite sure I gave Hayden/Harriet the spiel.
Well, I guess Hayden/Harriet doesn’t want any more fun.
I try to shrug it off, but my ego is a little wounded.
It doesn’t matter. It’s not like she’s the only woman in this club, or even the most attractive.
The most attractive is standing over at the bar near Damien.
Lucky sonofabitch.
Her legs are long and shapely, and I can’t help imagining what they’d feel like wrapped around my waist.
Long Legs comes toward me, and I sweep my gaze up to her face and blanch.
Olivia Carter.
Jesus Christ. When did she get so leggy?
A fire spreads across my face.
She steps up to me, grinning, her little upturned nose wrinkling when she gets close.
“Oof, your face is red.”
“It’s the booze.”
She places her cool hand on the right side of my face, where the girl hit me, and I finally fully understand what she means.
“I think you’re going to bruise.” She drags her thumb across my cheekbone, and my heart races away in my chest.
I didn’t know her when she was younger. Her father kept her pretty isolated until she was of age, and I only heard stories about how well she was doing in school and softball, things like that.
When I first met her, she was already in her twenties.
But still. She is Richard’s daughter, so even if just for that, she should be invisible to me. Forbidden.
She just has a pair of rocking legs, that’s all.
My eyes struggle to stay on her face, wanting to rove back over and check out what else I’ve been ignoring all the years I’ve known Olivia, but I restrain myself.
“It’s the risk you take, I suppose.” I take her hand and place it by her side again, clearing my throat.
“What? Being a dog?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice even though her words are harsh.
I grin. “I wouldn’t say dog. I’d say...connoisseur.”
