Page 57 of Keeper
“Whatever your heart desires, goalie.” She placed my big hands around her small waist. “I’myours. Use me.”
Damn.After last night’s tease, those were the words I needed to hear. Imagining all the trouble we could get into, my cock stirred, tightening my pants.
“So what do you say?” She cast her smoky bedroom eyes towards the club exit. “Are you gonna take me home or not, goalie?”
Hell yeah,I thought.
But a funny thing happened before I could speak—the next few hours of my life flashed before my eyes. I saw exactly what would happen: I’d take this girl back to my place, rip her out of that dress, and do whatever the hell I wanted with her flesh until we both finally passed out from exhaustion. But then we’d wake up and it’d be tomorrow and things would just feel …different.We’d look at each other, not withregret,exactly,but something adjacent to it. Forced to make awkward small talk, we’d do the painful morning-after dance until she could quickly gather up her things and leave my life forever, and we could both breathe a sigh of relief.
In other words, it’d be the complete opposite of my night with Ainsley.
And for some reason, though I never had a problem with that whole song and dance before, the idea of doing it now bummed me the hell out.
“You know what?” I heard myself mutter. And I couldn’t believe I was actually about to say these words, but there I was, speaking them: “I’m sorry, but I can’t tonight.”
She pouted. “Aw. Really?”
“Yeah, really.” I nodded. “I’ve got something I need to do tomorrow.”
“What if I gave you a sample of what’s to come?” She slyly gestured at the club restroom. “Maybe change your mind?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.”
“Welp.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the autograph, I guess,” she said, dripping with disappointment.
I watched as she drifted away and disappeared into the crowd. After last night, I fully expected to be swamped by a tidal wave of regret … but it never came.
“Huh,” I said to myself, surprised at howokayI felt with turning her down. In fact, I didn’t just feel okay—I feltgood. “Weird.”
Another girl stepped up to take her place, digging her nails into my forearm. “Hey, Vaughn. I’m Nikki.”
I slithered out of her grasp. “Hey, Nikki, I’m going home. Goodnight.”
“Ugh, whatever. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
20
Ainsley
With all the talk about how much she hates men nowadays, I’d almost forgotten how Marta gets before a big date she’s excited about: tense, short-tempered, and snappy. But it all came back to me the moment I woke up on the couch hearing deep sobs and wails of frustration coming from Marta’s bedroom. I went to investigate and found her lying on her floor in the midst of a full-blown wardrobe meltdown.
I hadn’t had my breakfast or coffee yet, but I jumped right into action and tried to solve the crisis. We must’ve gone through a hundred different wardrobe options for Marta before she finally begrudgingly settled on the very first outfit she’d originally picked out: a see-through black mesh top, a tight pair of high-waisted blue jeans, and chunky hiking boots with a high heel.
As frustrating as the wardrobe ordeal was, I was just happy that it actually ended, leaving me with enough time to get ready. Not thatIneeded to look stunning or take anyone’s breath away—I was behind the camera, of course—but I was still wearing the baggy sweatpants and camisole I slept in, and I would’ve loved to take an hour or so to freshen up and make myself look at leastsemirespectable.
But … Marta prefers the wayIdo her hair and makeup, and in her current state, I fullybelievedher proclamations that she couldn’t handle doing it herself. So, instead of getting myself ready …
“Look up,” I told Marta as I delicately applied mascara to her lower lashes. “So,” I said, trying my best to remain positive andnotthink about Julie’s prophetic warning, “where are we doing this photo shoot?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “You’re the photographer. You tell me.”
The idea that she could arrange a photo shoot and not have a location picked out was mind boggling. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, Ainsley, I’m not.”
Ooookay,I thought.Would’ve been nice to have a heads-up on that one, but sure. Leave it to the out-of-towner to pick the last-minute shoot location. Smart idea.
But I bit my tongue, reminding myself again and again that she was paying me a thousand dollars for this. All I had to do was show up, take a few pictures, and get the hell out of here.
