Page 10 of Rookie Season
Attraction ripples through me. Did I have a drink and not realize it? Because the buzz feels as if it’s in my chest at first, then everywhere.
I’m the first person to acknowledge that sometimes you just need to burn off tension, but I don’t do it here or with regulars.
Ryan isn’t even a regular. He’s a starting Kodiak, which would be a thousand times worse.
At Mile High, we’re supposedly in the business of beer, but we’re really in the business of the Denver Kodiaks. My dad has always drummed that into me. As much as we can hang out and be friendly, they’re the product. Patrons don’t flock to us for the Miller.
“This is not the day to test me, Ryan.”
His eyes soften. “You’ve never called me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“I know.”
Even with the sound of the music and crowd outside, it’s quiet in here.
The throbbing ache through my body moves lower, sets up residence in my stomach, between my thighs.
This is stupid. Every woman on the other side of that door would feel the same damn way being this close to a pro basketball player, particularly one who looks like Ryan.
Even if he smells as good as he looks…
“Maybe I do have cherries.” I turn away and scour the shelves. I catch sight of the edge of a jar on a high shelf. I pull over a box and step on it.
“Don’t even think about it.” Ryan leans past me, easily reaching the jar and bringing it down.
With me on this box, we’re nearly the same height. We stare at each other for a moment.
“It must be nice to be this tall. You can tell people what to do.”
“Something tells me you wouldn’t listen.” He cocks his head, and fuck me if he doesn’t have dimples.
Ryan holds out the jar of cherries and I take them.
“Thanks. I guess we’d better get back there.”
He catches my arm again. “You’re not taking those cherries out there.”
Confusion makes me blink. “Then why did you get them down?”
“So you’ll have them tomorrow. That woman doesn’t get one.”
I’m so focused on the attraction that I’m not prepared for the tidal wave of appreciation. It catches me completely off guard.
“You’re devious,” I accuse. “As much as I’d like to tell her where to stick her cherries, if I can save her dropping a shitty review on my dad’s bar, I will.”
His gaze flicks over me. “Leave that to me.”
Surprise rises up. “But how will she show you what she can do with her tongue?” I bat my eyes up at him.
“I’m not all that interested in her tongue.” He says it evenly, but his gaze drops to my mouth. “Yours, on the other hand…”
Shoving down the attraction to a man who’s hot and willing and funny and within arm’s reach on a lonely day is one thing. Keeping both of us above water and fighting this sudden hunger when it’s been a long week and he’s not only hot but sweet and on my side is another thing altogether.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t need someone in my corner. I’ve never asked for it. I’m married to this place.
So why does it feel so damn good?
