Page 24 of Irresistibly Risky

“You remember now, don’t you?”

Her eyes pinch into narrowed slits, and she nods slowly, her hand still over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“You ran out on me that night too. It was the night I won the Super Bowl. I’d had a few too many drinks and a couple too many muscle relaxants, and well, you remember what happened. Or maybe not since you didn’t recognize me. It was your birthday, and I knew you had been drinking, but I didn’t realize you were that drunk.”

“You had longer hair. And a beard. Right?” Her face scrunches up as she looks me over again. “I didn’t imagine that. But your eyes were... different.”

“I grew my hair and a beard that season because a few of us on the team made a claim that we wouldn’t cut it until we won the Super Bowl. I cut my hair and shaved my beard off the next day. And my eyes are the same.”

“No. They were blue. I could have sworn they were blue.”

“They’re gray,” I correct. “Kind of colorless, which means they change colors depending on the lighting. The bathroom had a slight blue tint to it.”

“You’re really him. The guy who fucked me without a condom, ejaculated inside me, and then ran out immediately after.”

I frown. “That’s not how I meant it to go down. I can promise you that.”

She’s shaking now. Uncontrollably. And her eyes… they’re filling with tears. Tears that immediately start spilling over and onto her cheeks as she stares at me as if she’s seen a ghost.

This is definitely not the reaction I thought she’d have.

“Hey. What? What is it?” I cup her face again, brushing away the tears. “I’m sorry I ran out, and I’m so sorry I didn’t use the condom. That wasn’t a ploy or me trying to be an asshole. I swear. I wasn’t… hard as I always am in those situations, and I wasn’t thinking because I was flustered, and you told me to hurry up, and so I just shoved it in. I was… freaked out. And upset. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before, and I was scared. Not only that, but I also didn’t want it to be as awful for you as I knew it was. I was a mess. A little too drunk, and the muscle relaxants—”

“Asher,” she cuts off my rant, her watery eyes on mine as she says, “I have something to tell you too.”

7

Oh my God. Asher. Asher Reyes is the guy from the bathroom. The father of my son. He’s Mason’s father, and he has no idea he has a son. I have a son with Asher Reyes. How is this happening? How could it be Asher of all people?

Everything is about to change.

My entire life will now be linked with his—if he even wants anything to do with Mason.

Tears continue to spill from my eyes as I stare at this man. This man who orchestrated a party just so he could tell me this. He’s crazy. I mean, who does something like that? He could have called me up on the freaking phone and told me or asked to meet me for coffee or something. But this?

I’m sitting in a bathroom, wearing the dress I wore to my medical school graduation, an apartment full of work colleagues just beyond the door, and now I have to tell him he has a son. My heart is pounding in a way it never has before as anxiety rattles through me like a runaway train. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead and the back of my neck, and I’m shaking so badly my teeth are chattering.

“Asher.” I start only to stop. How do I say this to him?

“What is it?” he questions calmly, gently, still trying to wipe my tears. Is he a good man? Joe said he was, but Joe’s not exactly someone I take my character references from.

I don’t know Asher, and it’s terrifying. A football player. Of course it had to be a football player. Fate and irony really have a thing for messing with me.

I open my mouth to tell him. To push the words past my lips. But a wave of nausea hits me, and I can’t breathe in here. I can’t think in here. It’s too closed in, and I think I’m having a panic attack. “I need air. Where can I find air?”

I shove him back without waiting on his response and fly for the door. It opens, and then I’m in the hallway, and there is noise in the great room. Laughter. People talking. Holy shit, I’m in the middle of a fucking party, and this is happening.

I shake my head and start to run in the opposite direction when Asher grabs my hand and pulls me toward a large staircase that winds up and up, my heels clanging on the metal steps, all the way until he opens a door, and then we’re on the roof of the building and I’m looking at… a pool? Who has a rooftop pool in their house? Well, apartment, I guess, but still.

“This is insane.” Because it is. Beautiful. Super cool. But also insane. The outdoor area takes up the entire rooftop. There are loungers, seating areas, a full bar, and televisions everywhere you look. It’s a sports bar that met a bachelor pad and together they made a resort.

The pool area is glassed in, showing off sweeping views of Boston everywhere you look. The pool itself is stunning and sparkling blue, lit up by underwater lights.

I realize he’s still holding my hand as he walks me over in that direction. He presses a button on the wall, and the glass roof slowly retracts like a sunroof causing a gust of warm wind to hit me right in the face. I suck in a rushed breath, and then another, and collapse onto a cushioned chaise on the edge of the pool.

“How do you have this kind of money?” Then I shake my head. “Sorry, that was rude, and it’s totally none of my business. My mind is too frazzled to think logically right now, and that just slipped out.”

He chuckles, and the sound eases some of the knots twisting in my stomach. He sits on the lounge across from me and retakes my hand. “It’s fine. I was part of the band Central Square for four years. We made more money than we ever knew what to do with, and after college and I was drafted back home to Boston, so I bought this place from one of the doctors downstairs.”

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