Page 4 of Clear Shot
Hana is…special.
That’s the only word I can think of.
She doesn’t fit into any of the categories I usually have for women.
Acquaintances. Friends with benefits. Hookups. One-night stands.
I have female friends, but they’re usually my buddies’ wives or girlfriends, like Claudia and Sloane.
Hana’s in a category of her own—the “I’d fuck her if I could but probably shouldn’t and I wish we didn’t meet for another ten years when I’m ready to get married” category.
She’s beautiful, smart, and hard-working, and has what I call a hidden bad-girl streak. You wouldn’t know it from the outside looking in. She dresses professionally for work; her tattoos are hidden beneath clothes—I only know because I’ve seen her in a bikini—and she made me promise not to tell anyone how much she loves being on the back of my Harley.
We had an instant connection, but I’m not ready to settle down and she was going back to Slovakia. Until this job fell into her lap. Then we agreed it was better for us to be friends, since we’re in different places in life.
Besides, I already have a failed marriage under my belt. I don’t want Hana to be ex-wife number two.
So friend zoning her makes sense.
It was my idea.
And it seems to be working out fine.
We hang out at group events and parties, I’ve given her a ride home a few times, and it’s nice to have someone I can talk to without worrying about saying the wrong thing or having to put on the bad-boy hockey player act. Well, it’s not really an act—I’m a hockey player with tattoos and a Harley that I’m not supposed to ride during the season even though sometimes I still do. I’m divorced and like to party, go to heavy metal concerts, and sleep around way too much.
My lifestyle is not conducive to any kind of relationship.
I just can’t seem to get her out of my head sometimes.
Like now.
Even though a pretty blonde is draped all over me.
I take the last bite of pizza and wipe my mouth just as the blonde runs her hand over my crotch.
“A few more minutes,” I murmur to her, putting my hand over hers to stop the movement. For some reason, I don’t want to walk out of here with a massive hard-on. The restaurant stayed open late for us since we called ahead, and I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself.
“Is Claudia freaking out?” Johan asks Anders.
Anders shakes his head. “Nah. The baby keeps her busy and now she can focus on starting her own company, which is what she wanted to do in the first place. It’ll take a little time for her to get it up and running, but now she won’t be distracted by the day job.”
“How come she didn’t do that from the get-go?” I ask curiously.
“She wanted to take some time working for someone else to get a feel for the ins and outs of a tech start-up.”
“Maybe she should just stick to being a mom,” Johan says dryly. “It seems like start-ups aren’t always a good thing.”
“There are always scammers out there,” I say. “But Claudia would be a legit entrepreneur, and we all know she’ll succeed at anything she starts.”
We all chuckle because Claudia isn’t just smart—she’s MIT-educated with multiple degrees smart.
“She’s also considering going back and getting her Ph.D.,” Anders says. “So we’re discussing all the options.”
“That sounds exciting for her,” I say.
“Yeah, we’re not worried about Claudia,” Anders says. “It’s Hana that we’re concerned about.”
I frown slightly. “Why? I’m sure she can find a job.”
