Page 2 of Worth the Risk

The sound of the martini shaker stops just as this woman’s brow raises. I realize my tone may have been… playful. But it doesn’t matter, because for a moment, we look at one another, our blue eyes connecting, and recognize that we’re both taken off guard by this unusual vibration in the air.

Admittedly, it normally takes a lot for someone to make me pause. I’m not easily affected—well, except tonight, it seems.

A smirk plays on her lips, and it feels like it’s her slow ease into my presence. “Something like that.” She examines me for a second then rests her chin in her hand, her elbow propped on the counter. “What brings you here on a Tuesday evening?”

“Long workday.”

“So I gathered. You’re wearing a suit yet no tie, which means you took it off at the end of the day. What do you do?”

Wes places a martini on a napkin in front of this woman. “Not a sports fan?” He seems surprised that she doesn’t seem to know who I am.

She thanks him with a nod before she entwines her fingers, with perfectly polished pink nails, around the stem of the glass. “No. I know zero about any sport. Why?”

I fucking love that answer. Mostly because during my history as a star player turned one of the youngest coaches with the highest paycheck, I got a title in the press as bona fide bachelor. There have been a lot of women who wanted to hang off my arm for the cameras too.

But to this woman, I’m an unknown.

Nor could she probably figure it out just by looking at me. I’m tall but not overly so, and I’m not bulky, as my career was based on speed and escaping tackles. I keep myself fit, unlike many former players turned coach.

Clearing my throat, I offer my hand. “I’m Hudson, by the way. And let’s just say I work with numbers and physics.” Partially true. Today’s management meeting was all numbers, and we make plays based on aerodynamics.

After a sip from her drink, she frees her hand from her glass and offers me a few fingers to shake. “Piper. I know, it’s such a ridiculous name.”

Letting her soft, delicate digits go, I give her a confused look. “Why? I like it. It’s cute.”

Piper rolls her eyes. “Exactly. Cute. I don’t know, I feel like people associate it with, like, a little gingerbread person or something.”

I laugh at her thought. “Okay, I could see that connection but only because you point it out.” Leaning against the back of my stool, I grab my drink once more and get comfortable for a conversation that I feel like I’m going to have with Piper.

“Anyways, thanks for letting me crash your moment of solitude. It was a day from hell.”

“How so?” Another sip of whiskey hits my mouth.

Her head bobs slightly to the side, as if she’s debating how much information to share, then she seems to shake off the thought. “I was battling it out with a shipping company for something I ordered, fabric that I’ve been waiting on, and they said someone would drop it off between nine and five, but no one did. I decided to take it into my own hands and marched right down to their office in hopes of getting my package. Nothing. Then Chicago spring decided to laugh at me and pour down freezing rain. It isn’t even a full moon, and my aura is really fucked up right now.”

She’s slightly quirky, and I like that.

“You were running in heels around town in this weather?” I’m impressed.

Her mouth is closed, but it just makes her wry smile sexier. “You never know when you need to be rescued and hopefully by a hot fireman.” She winks at me.

I tip my glass in her direction. “Points for surviving in this weather.”

“I’m going to head upstairs to look at some paperwork,” Wes says in my direction. “Just let yourself out when you’re done?”

“Sure.”

“Oh, I owe you for the martini.” Piper moves to grab her bag.

I touch her arm to stop her from digging into her purse. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s on me, and Wes will add it to my tab.”

Piper flashes me an appreciative look.

Wes clears his throat and gives me an awkward yet entertained smile. He seems to know that either Piper or I are in trouble, the kind that I haven’t had in a while. Life has been a little crazy for me, to say the least.

I give a nod to Wes before returning my fully invested attention to Piper. “Fabric. You work with clothing?”

She nods and plays with her last olive on a skewer, and Christ, she sucks that fruit with perfection. “Yes, I’m a designer, actually.”

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