Page 4 of Never Date A Player
“His dad’s gotta be happy.” Zach looks at me, and I pause before tossing in the ringer. “Lewis works for his dad’s construction business. Practically runs it for him now that he’s back in town.”
I raise my hand for my final shot, but the sound of the front door creaking draws my attention. A guy nearly as tall as the doorjamb enters the house.
“Speak of the devil,” Zach says. “Gen, this is Lewis.”
For a split second my mind scatters.
Lewis closes the front door, broad shoulders filling out a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled and shoved above his elbows. His shirt hem gapes on one side, as if he tucked it in the front in haste. He has high cheekbones, a square jaw, and dark brown hair that looks like it’s been fingered back.
He’s more than handsome. He’s striking. As in, strikes you dumb and mute.
My eyebrows pinch together, my mouth pulling down into a frown. What am I doing? I stopped noticing men months ago. After I decided it’s best to avoid them.
Mira beams as Lewis walks into the room, and I give myself a swift mental shake. I grip the last quarter and slam it on the table, watching it fly toward the target.
The coin rims the edge of the juice glass and falls on the table.
I stare at it in disbelief.
When I glance up, Lewis is watching me, his brow furrowed infinitesimally. He scans down, and my breath catches. I’m sitting and he can’t see much, considering I’m wearing a white button-down, open at the throat, but my heartbeat increases.
Which is weird. My normal instinct is to curl my shoulders and hide when I’m being checked out.
Lewis’s eyes return to mine, and they are dark—black—deep like the lake this area is known for. My face heats and suddenly my rapid heartbeat flutters and bobs in my chest.
What the hell? I’ve avoided guys for weeks. This one is good looking, but so are a lot of men.
“Hey, Lewis,” Zach calls. “Quarters on deck. Gen, here, is kicking our asses. Almost made your girl pound her drink.”
Lewis’s eyes flicker to Mira, then back to me.
Zach referred to Mira as Lewis’s girl. Obviously, they’re together. No way am I going near Lewis, even if I were considering it, which I am not.
I roll a fresh quarter between my fingers, thumb a nick on the table, glance at Nessa in the kitchen—distract myself with anything but Lewis’s approach. And I’m doing a good job too—until he lifts his arm and tugs his fingers through his hair.
My gaze snags on the ridges of muscles showing below the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt.
I blink. I’m checking out the guy’s arms now?
I must have looked too long, because when I glance at his face he’s staring at me staring at him.
My heart’s an irritating pulse in my ears, blocking out sound, cheeks warming to flaming. I cough into my elbow to hide my face.
Hot, edgy; I don’t like this sensation, like my skin’s about to jump away—or toward something. I should leave. I’m not feeling well. But I can’t bail this early. We haven’t even eaten.
Mira springs from her seat and catches Lewis around the waist before he makes it to the table. She hugs him, and he returns it with one arm while gazing at me.
That’s his girlfriend in his arms. Why is he looking at me? Damn men.
“Zach,” Nessa says, and shifts a pot on the stove in the kitchen. “I don’t know what to do with this chicken.”
“To be continued later.” Zach smiles and sweeps the quarters into his hand. He walks into the kitchen and takes over for Nessa.
Zach’s grin is friendly. Not hot, or lecherous, just uncomplicated. Kind. Not that Lewis’s gaze was lecherous. It was… curious.
I don’t like curious. Curiosity leads to interest, which leads to things I’m staying away from.
It’s disturbing that my radar pings around this guy. He has a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that seems to be the only kind of men I attract.
