Page 1 of Icing the Cougar
Chapter 1
Jasper
I'm on my fourth scotch and not feeling a damn thing, but that might have something to do with the phone glued to my hand. Or my teammate, Riley, and his girlfriend’s face, plastered all over my screen with a smug, he's-fucking-winning grin. I think about throwing the phone against the wall, just to see it shatter. See something shatter. Instead, I drop it on the bar and glare at my drink.
Riley and Amelia are moving in together, which means Riley is winning once again. Our team captain always seems to have the perfect opportunities handed to him, and in the case of Riley, literally land in his lap without even trying. Yeah, he’s my friend, but damn, throw a little luck my way every now and then, won’t you.
The social media posts say that it's the housewarming of the century, apparently. I'm wondering what that even means, wondering why the hell I even give a fuck. This drink is doing less than nothing to numb the feeling, when I spot him. The kind of guy you see in a stock photo when you search "sex offender." The slicked-back hair catches my attention first. He's leaning close to a woman at the end of the bar who looks to be about ten years older than me, a big-ass grin splitting his face.
He's dropping something into her drink.
She's a blur of bright red hair and smooth skin, and she doesn't seem to notice. Her focus is somewhere over his shoulder, while he slides the glass closer and wraps her fingers around it. I look away, hoping I'm wrong. Maybe I just want to be wrong for once. She brings it to her lips, and he's still smiling with an evil smile.
The scotch sloshes all over my jeans when I get up. I'm not even sure what my plan is. Tell him to knock it off? Call him an asshole? Offer to hold his stupid-looking wallet while he calls for bail? It doesn't matter because I'm halfway there, and the scumbag finally sees me. He puts his arm around her waist like that will help. It doesn't.
"Hands off," I growl. "She came with me."
It's enough to make him hesitate, enough for me to wedge my body between them. It's also enough to piss him off.
"Get lost," he says. He has an accent like he’s European and way richer than me. "She’s with me tonight."
He's the kind of guy that can afford lawyers, the kind of guy I should avoid if I want to keep my career on track. He's also the kind of guy I hate more than anything.
She sways on her stool. Her eyes are closed, and her glass is nearly empty.
"Not tonight," I say.
For a second, I think he's going to fight me. He looks like he wants to, looks like he'd enjoy it. I see him calculating, measuring, figuring out if I'm worth the trouble. He must decide I’m not because he shoves his glass toward me. It hits my chest and drops to the floor.
"Good luck," he says, and he strolls out of the bar with a shit-eating grin.
The woman’s head is down now. She leans forward like she might fall. Like she might break. I get my arm around her shoulder before she does, and I look around. Everyone is pretending they didn’t see, pretending they don’t notice. I don’t blame them. I don’t want to notice either. However, I’m here, and I’ve got her. I can’t just dump her and run.
I try to shake her awake. "Hey, hey, are you okay?"
Nothing. Her eyes are open now, but there’s nobody home. I shake her again, harder, and her head lolls against my shoulder. The kind of limp that screams call the fucking cops.
That’s the last thing I need, so I find a bellhop and slip him fifty bucks to get me a room. Then I carry her to the elevator, hoping no one snaps a photo and sells it to the press.
He gives me a keycard, and I steer her down the hall to a room on the third floor.
"Almost there," I say. She blinks up at me, and I think she might be coming around. She isn’t. She’s dead weight when I sit her on the bed.
I pace a few feet and look at her. I should just go. I did my good deed for the year. She’ll wake up with a hangover, and that’ll be that. I can’t just leave her, not when she’s in this state, but I still think I need to get the fuck out of here.
I'm halfway to the door to leave when she mumbles something.
I turn around. "What was that?"
She's reaching for me. "Don’t go," she whispers.
"You're awake."
She nods, but it looks like it takes every ounce of strength she has.
"Don’t go," she says again.
I stand there like an idiot, trying to decide what to do. Then she gets my hand, and her skin is warm against mine. Hot, even. I don’t expect that. It’s like lightning shooting up my arm. Like all the shit I try to forget is burning away. She’s looking at me now, looking at me like she wants me.
