Page 5 of South of The Skyway

“Might as well have. God, the man canmove.”

Vallie laughed, twirling the pink straw in her drink, which she appeared to be focusing on with all she had. “That’s literally the name of the job. He does it for work.”

“Welp, he’s welcome towork mewhenever he likes.”

The table transferred a round of giggles, my cheeks warm with liquor, and let's be honest, probably some semblance of lingering flush. That would be my last round if I was wise. “Final score?”

“Twenty to seventeen.”

“Lame,” Noel laughed into her drink, earning an eye roll. Noel knew as much about football as I did astrophysics, which was a little less than nothing. “Any new dates on the horizon?”

“Zip,” Josie shook her head, stabbing at her ice cubes again.

“Zero,” Stacey said, leaning back and pulling her hair into a sleek mahogany ponytail. She was the quietest of us, rarely speaking up unless the subject was immensely valuable to her. One too many hours poolside the day before tinted her pale skin pink, and she looked more likely to fall asleep on Vallie’s shoulder than make it another hour here.

“Zilch,” Vallie muttered, shaking her head and prompting her braids to bob.

“I mean, studies show the happiest people in our country are unmarried women without children,” Josie stated matter-of-factly. She almost always brought this up when one of us pointed out the hopeless situation that was dating with our thirties around the corner. By this point in life, all the good men seemed to be taken, and those strewn about looking for body warmth were carrying baggage none of us had the capacity to take on. We’d all prioritized our careers in our early twenties, building reputations and businesses. Although, as those damn biological clocks started ticking, it seemed less and less likely we’d meet an adequate match. Only Noel had a suitor—a slick-talking corporate ladder climber I didn’t particularly care for. As long as he kept her happy, I’d leave it alone. But Eric had slimy schmoozer written from the gel in his hair to the overpriced watch on his wrist.

I ran my finger through the water ring abandoned by my martini and said, “Honestly, I don’t even miss the chase.”

“And what aboutthe hunt?” The resonant timber wracked shivers up my spine, skin needling with anticipation as a warm, spicy scent invaded my senses, rounding my eyes. The girls all snapped their heads up, wide gazes locking behind me.

“Oh my god,” Vallie murmured with no attempt at subtlety as she nearly choked on an ice cube. I rotated to see a cocky smile laced with expectation below gray-blue eyes set in an ungodly beautiful face.

It should be illegal to look that good and have a voice that could liquify a chastity belt, but he managed, drawling, “I was going to offer a drink, but since that’s off the table, could I persuade you to join me for a game of darts?”

My throat bobbed, anxiety settling where the air should go. Dear God, the man was delicious. The skin beside those intense eyes wrinkled in deep laugh lines. He was probably thirty, every inch of exposed skin kissed by the sun, his Henley and jeans advertising each swell of his toned physique. Sporting a smattering of short, scruffy stubble that just begged to be touched, he kept that cocky smile on as he waited for my answer.

I raised my hand, about to wave him off, when Noel blurted out, “She would love that. But you better put money in the game, hotshot. She doesn’t play for free.”

If I’d had two fewer drinks in my system, I would've been mad. Hell, I would’ve been enraged. But drunk Brex and sober Brex were entirely different beasts. And drunk Brex was acutely aware of the fact that her lady parts were dusty enough to put the Sahara to shame and intrigued enough to size up the outsider flashing a panty-melting grin.

“You make it sound like I’ve stumbled on a shark in heels?”

Swallowing down the wave of attraction, I turned to face him head-on, tracing his frame from foot to face.

Um. Yes, please.

God, this place was always the same incestual crowd of regulars, save for the occasional stray looking for a home. But this newcomer was absolutely delectable, earning a sincere smile as I locked on bottomless blues.

“I guess you’re about to find out.”

FOUR

RHYETT

Women confident enough to wear an outfit like that, with an ass capable of making a priest pause to reconsider his life choices, rarely bothered to be seen at little dive bars in the heart of the city. They certainly didn’t throw darts like some undercover assassin. This one was something worth slowing down for. I’d known it the moment her eyes found mine. I was supposed to be studying the business, not its patrons. But dear God, I’m just a man, and spotting her was better than basking in the sunlight.

Blonde hair cascaded in precise waves to her waist, a rich purple top draped across her breasts, the deep v-neck disappearing in her beige, curve-hugging skirt. Grey thigh-high boots gave her an extra couple of inches, making her lean physique tantalizingly long. I was supposed to be beyond lusting after a tight body at thirty-five years old. Still, she had me fighting to focus on her baby blues instead of lingering on the gold body jewelry sparkling across her sternum and draping under her breasts.

The woman wasn’t just mouthwatering; she held herself with that self-assured confidence that said she knew exactly who the fuck she was and where she was going. It was hot as hell. As her final toss knocked a pre-existing contender from the bullseye only to replace it, I blew out a low whistle.

“Jesus. Your friend wasn’t kidding.”

“Noel?” she said, beaming as she tossed those golden waves. “We never kid about high stakes.”

“Competitive?”

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