Page 35 of Second Go-Round

“Fuck!” Micah sat forward on his chair as the Pats’s quarterback scrambled from the ten-yard line.

“Move your ass!” Cooney shouted at the same time Sean and I leapt to our feet.

All four of us hollered as he dove, arms and ball outstretched toward the in-zone. The ref’s arms went up, and our shouts deafened.

The camera went to the stands to catch a few high-fives and waving arms. An up-close shot of a green-eyed, sexy-as-hell woman with the Pats logo painted on her cheek and beer in her raised hand caught my breath, and I slumped back onto the chair, my breath fucking gone.

“She’s hot,” Cooney said, still standing and eyeing the woman the cameraman lingered on.

Micah stared at the TV and sipped his beer as he sat back down. “I’d fuck her for free.”

My stomach knotted at the thought of my boss’s dick anywhere near Christine. “That’s her.”

“Her who?” Cooney asked while settling back onto the couch in my periphery.

The camera zoomed away, and I swallowed, my memory once more burned with the image of those emerald eyes and fiery tresses. “Christine. My date from last night.”

“That hot chick on the screen just now?” Micah asked for clarity.

“Yeah.” My voice sounded like gravel, and my insides churned like a vat of tumbling pebbles.

“She’s a Pats fan? Well, shit.” Micah snorted. “No wonder you’re lovestruck.”

“I’m not lovestruck, fuckwad.” I threw one of my crumpled-up napkins at his head.

Cooney hummed under his breath. “Uh huh. Keep lying to yourself, Zimmerman.”

I planned to do as my co-worker suggested, but I had a feeling I’d be turning down more of Micah’s clients than accepting in the future.

Chapter 15

Christine

Two weeks had passed since I’d sent Jarod packing, and I loathed myself for kicking him out so coldly. I could have clung to him until eight the next morning when the contract between me and Elite had stated our time together officially ended.

Instead, I’d been a self-preserving idiot, and every day that passed made me regret my error.

But had I spent even one more minute in his presence, I would have fallen even harder. It was bad enough that I couldn’t rid my mind of the man. The memory of his touch, his kisses, had truly ruined me for anyone else.

For thirteen goddamned days, I went without dick, relying on dildos and vibrators alone to get me off. Not that I’d been truly missing out on much with my random hookups. Jarod had been the first to truly satisfy my cravings when no one before him had even come close.

Wrecked seemed the perfect word to describe what he’d done to me. And I didn’t know what to do with that truth.

Chest heavy, I painted on a smile, greeting the next guest to enter the ballroom we had rented for the fundraiser Uncle Bradley had entrusted to my care. As with any task assigned to me, I’d whipped a plan into place and executed it to perfection, even more easily done in my desire to escape thoughts of the tall drink of water I continued to thirst for.

Uncle Bradley and Dad stood with me while we waited for Auntie Sophie and our little guest of honor. Mary Rose, aka Rosie to me, was an innocent at only seven, but leukemia seemed hell-bent on siphoning the life from her body. Her grandpapa, Uncle Bradley, and grandmama, Auntie Sophie, had taken on the pleasure of raising her when their daughter had proved too mentally unstable to handle the child on her own.

Rosie had never been a burden to her grandparents, and even though the illness and grief they faced had aged both Dad’s best friend and his wife in the few months since the little girl’s diagnosis, they still loved on her and attempted to give her the world in the time she had left.

And they were desperate to raise awareness and funds to help researchers find a cure so no other child needed to face what she did.

While greeting guests and eventually moving through the crowd of influential people both Dad and Uncle Bradley knew, I thought about Jarod and his experience, or rather, the little he’d shared with me. Unlike Rosie, Jarod had been given the chance to beat cancer’s ass and won, even without the loving support of family at his side.

In typical nosey form, I’d checked out Jarod on social media, but he didn’t post much. He did, however, make it known to the world he worked at the same hospital Rosie spent most of her time in.

I wondered if they’d met each other—

“Christine,” Uncle Bradley called to me from where I stood speaking with some political prick I could give two shits about since he tended toward a conservative stance on issues I thoroughly aligned myself with. Better treatment of the LGBTQ+ community being the most important to me.

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