“Jarod,” he stated before welcoming Wendy as well. “Christine is my best friend’s daughter. She’s the one responsible for making this event happen.” Pride laced his voice. “Two weeks—that’s all the time I gave her, and she came through regardless of the pressure. She’s one hell of a woman. Loyal and loving to a fault.”
I turned to find Christine had set the little girl once more on her feet, but their fingers entwined. The siren I’d found to be wild, persistent, and definitely impulsive had a much sweeter side, I realized. One that intrigued the hell out of me even though she’d already sunk her wiles beneath my skin to eat away at my resolve to remain aloof from emotional entanglements.
“How long have you known her?” I heard myself ask, wanting any information I could get since all social media belonging to Christine only portrayed the outgoing side of her, the nightlife she chose to embrace.
Wendy snickered as though well aware of my infatuation, but I ignored her, my focus glued on the lady in pink with her mess of red waves draped over her shoulders and back.
“Since the day she was born,” Bradley answered. “I’ve been best friends with her father since high school.”
I longed to beg him to tell me all about her—her family, her passions outside of what she’d shared with me, but I didn’t do impulsive in the same way she did. Yes, I desired another night with Christine, fuck knew I wanted a hell of a lot more than that. But not without processing my thoughts and my feelings that pushed to conquer the cool reserve I’d kept in place for my entire adult life.
“She’s lovely,” I stated the truth of what I thought about the sight of Christine regardless of the horrid dress she wore.
Bradley chuckled and clasped my shoulder. “She’s also single and has a weakness for tall, strapping young men such as yourself.”
As if her social media hadn’t already let me in on that truth.
“That a fact?” I mused quietly, already well aware Bradley didn’t lie. Christine had no plans to settle down any more than I did.
And that bit of honest thinking sat strangely heavy on my shoulders.
“Come on,” Bradley suggested. “I’ll introduce you to her.”
I stiffened.
Shit. Fuck. How the hell did I get out of that?
Christine led Mary Rose across the ballroom to a group of men I had every intention of eventually making my way toward, men I’d watched on TV the week before when they’d shut down the Buffalo Bills.
“Maybe later,” I told Bradley, forcing a smile. “It seems your little angel and her protector will be busy for a while.”
The professional athletes knelt down and greeted Mary Rose, kissing the back of her hand like she was a princess worthy of their worship. Color flushed her usually sallow cheeks, and my eyes stung at their actions. Big, brawny men were brought to their knees by a little girl facing death.
All except for one, anyway—Jackson, the rookie on crutches. His eyes were glued to Christine.
A muscle ticked in my jaw as Christine turned to speak with him, her smile stunning, her hand lightly resting on his arm.
Would he be the one bending her over a piece of furniture later that night? Would he take a slow trip along her body, mapping out the sweet spots that made her moan? Would it be his dick stuffing her full and making her come?
“Goddamnit.” I swallowed hard, recognizing and admitting to myself I experienced another first thanks to the flame-haired witch. Jealousy. What an ugly feeling.
Jackson leaned toward her, his hand sliding low on her back, and I bristled. Sure, I’d lightly touched Wendy in the same way when steering her into and across the ballroom, but my intentions were purely platonic in nature, exactly the same she felt toward me.
But that asshole running back?
He wanted Christine. And being who he was, I didn’t doubt his ability to get inside her panties.
My body thrummed with tension, and I blocked out the voices around me, the almost too-loud music from the DJ in the opposite corner. Laughter met my ears from my co-workers beside me, but I couldn’t tear my focus off Christine and that dick who thought he could put his hands on her…
Christine shivered but not in the same way as when I’d had my hands all up in her space. A slight step to the side rid her of Jackson’s touch.
I hadn’t been aware Bradley had left my side, but he stepped in, grasping Christine’s elbow. She nodded at whatever he said, both of them taking Mary Rose’s hands and leading her off to meet someone else.
Thank fucking Christ, because I’d been about ready to lose my shit.
My gaze trailed after Christine, every cell in my body honed in on the woman I’d been dreaming about, and not just while sleeping.
“Is she the one who has your panties all twisted up?”