Page 5 of Pucking Curves

“Uh, fuck yeah. And believe me, it was not a good experience.” He pauses. “Any of the half dozen or so times it happened.”

I laugh quietly, pointing at his glass. “Better be careful or you may be repeating past mistakes.”

“It’s Vegas, baby. I always make the same goddamn mistake when we’re in Vegas.” He winks, his eyes locked on mine as he lifts the glass to his lips.

I watch in rapt fascination as he drains it, my heart hammering. He just called me baby.

“Wait.” My brows furrow. “What mistake?”

His eyes widen, a curse rumbling from his lips. “I drink too much and then lose a goddamn fortune gambling.”

“Oh.” Relief courses through me in a flood, and I’m too damn drunk to hide it with him watching me so intently. I try to play it off by clearing my throat and shooting him a playful smile, trying desperately to sound casual. “Could be worse. You could wake up next to some random woman. Married. With no clue what happened.”

“Not happening,” he growls.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do that kind of shit.”

Why do I love that so much? I don’t know. It’s a mystery, like the passage of time in a casino. He isn’t mine. I have no claim on him. And yet…and yet, ever since Micah and Elodie’s wedding, he’sfeltlike mine.

I tried so damn hard to keep my distance that weekend. I didn’t want to like him. I didn’t want anything to do with him or any of Micah’s teammates. But every time I turned around, Archer was right there. Watching me. Following me. Forcing me to see him.

I fell without even realizing it was happening. And I’ve been falling deeper ever since. Every freaking excuse I can find to end up in a room with him, I take. I’ve attended more games in the last year than I did the entire time I was in college. Micah assumes it’s because I’m less busy since I graduated…but that’s a lie. It’s Archer.

When a job materialized in DC, I jumped at it. That wasn’t even my plan! I was supposed to go back home to California. My bags were packed. I had a job lined up. And then…and then a new nonprofit opened here, providing care for underprivileged kids in DC. I didn’t even hesitate to say yes when they asked me to take the physical therapist position.

Micah still thinks it’s so I could be closer to him. And, sure, that was part of my reasoning, but Archer was the biggest part.

“That’s right,” I say, forcing a teasing note when I realize Archer is still staring at me, waiting for a response. “The captain has to behave himself. Can’t have any fun or chase after the bunnies.”

A little growl rumbles in his throat. “Fuck the bunnies, Wren. They don’t interest me.”

“What…” I lick my lips. Why is my mouth so damn dry? “What does?”

He meets my gaze again, and I’m caught in his whirlwind, just sucked right into turbulent cerulean skies. God, he’s intense. Beautiful like a hurricane.

Would he kiss me with the same ferocity of a raging storm? Or would he be softer, sweeter?

The fact that I don’t know is slowly driving me out of my mind.

“We should call it a night,” Micah says abruptly. “It’s getting late.”

I jerk my gaze away from Archer, terrified he caught us staring at each other, and he knows just how deep this obsession runs. But he’s looking at his phone, completely oblivious to…whatever the hell just happened on this side of the booth.

“I’m not ready to go yet,” I complain. “I still want to gamble!”

Micah groans loudly. “It’s two in the morning, Wren.”

“So? It’s my birthday.”

“Uh, no. Yesterday was your birthday.”

I pout at him the same way I’ve been doing for most of my life. “Please?”

“Hell no.”

“Pretty please?”

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