Page 18 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

“Okay, okay. Go stand in front of a mirror so I can get a view of the whole thing.”

I gave her my flattest, driest look. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

She rolled her eyes just like she did back when I was a pain-in-the-ass teenager who was always testing her patience. “Then at least promise me you’re not wearing jeans. You can’t walk into The Groves injeansfor crying out loud. That place is pure class—”

“Jesus, Gram. I know not to wear jeans to a place like The Groves, okay? I’m not a bumpkin, for Christ’s sake. I’m wearing slacks. And just to point out, The Groves wasyouridea. I’d have been happy to have this date somewhere where I wasn’t going to spend a small fucking fortune on a woman I don’t even know. But you wouldn’t let it go, so here we are.”

She pulled in an affronted gasp and reached up to place her palm on her chest. Gram was in the mood to be dramatic. If she’d been wearing pearls just then, no doubt she would have clutched them. It was an act I saw right through. She couldn’t be scandalized if her life depended on it. She was too busy doing all the scandalizing herself.

“All I want in this whole world, Joodle Bug, is for you to find a woman to love who makes you happy. Excuse me for hoping that tonight might be the start of something special.”

My eyes rolled so far back in my head that for a second I was scared they might get stuck there. “Cut the shit, Gram. You’re no sweet, unassuming old lady.”

The façade fell the moment I called her out. “Okay, fine. No need to be a little shithead about it. It’s just that this is your first date since that rat-faced she-bitch, and I want you to go into it with your best foot forward.”

“I’ve had dates since then,” I defended.

“Please,” Gram scoffed. “You’ve had fuck buddies. Nothing more.”

“For the love of God. Please don’t use the phrase ‘fuck buddies’ around me. Ever.”

She carried on like she hadn’t heard me. “The girls at the salon all vouch for this young lady. They think she’s amazing, so could you do me a favor and quit your belly-aching for one freaking night and make the best out of this? For all either of us knows, you could meet your soulmate tonight.”

The snort I let out just then was so loud it rattled in my chest and throat. “I seriously doubt that, Gram. This chick already has one strike against her by having the same name as my archenemy. Don’t hold your breath for a love connection.”

My grandmother’s face grew shrewd as she stared at me through the rectangular glass screen. “Swear to God, son, the more you whine and complain about the woman below you, the more I’m convinced there’s something there that you aren’t fessing up to.”

“Not a chance in hell,” I objected vehemently. But it was the strangest thing. Whereas, in the past, those words would have flowed from my mouth was ease, I’d had to force them out just then.

Something had changed. That day in the elevator when I’d crossed a line, insulting her beyond what was called for, had been the start of it. Then there was the scene that played out with that dumb-fuckBaxin the mailroom last week. It had sparked something primal, almost territorial. There had actually been a second when I wondered how she would have reacted if I’d whipped my dick out right then and there and pissed a circle around her. Something told me that wouldnothave gone over well, but the desire to do that very thing had been there nonetheless.

I still didn’t know what had come over me when I saw her get all dreamy-eyed at that walking billboard for metro-sexuality, but whatever it had been, it pushed me to some sort of breaking point. Or maybe it just tipped me over the edge into insanity since Layla had been pushing me toward that fine line for months now. Whatever the case, I hadn’t been able to get the damn woman out of my head.

That urge I’d felt in the elevator to kiss her, to get that first taste and see if it lived up to my imagination, hadn’t gone anywhere in the days since. There hadn’t been a single run-in with Layla since that day, and I was anxious to see her face. I looked for her in the lobby, in the mailroom, hell, even out on the sidewalk. Every time the elevator stopped on her floor, I felt a tightening in my chest, wondering—hoping? —if it was her about to climb on. I’d even done laundry twice this week. I told myself it was because I was running low on underwear, but I was full of shit. I’d been hoping to seeher.

Damn it. I’d been battling a constant hard-on all goddamn week as I remembered the way her eyes had grown glassy when I got close to her, how her cheeks pinked and her pulse thrummed beneath the delicate, creamy skin at her throat. I’d cursed my traitorous dick more times than I could count in the past several days, refusing to touch the damn thing and give it what it wanted.

“The more you protest, the more it looks like you’re in serious denial,” Gram chided.

I was officially over this conversation. “I gotta go,” I grumbled like a moody teenager. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, wait!” she called before I could hit the button to end the FaceTime call.

“What?”

“Call me when you get home. Unless, of course, the date goes really well.” She waggled her eyebrows and I had to swallow back the need to puke. Christ, my grandmother really needed to learn some fucking boundaries. “In which case, I’ll expect to hear from you first thing in the morning.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Love you,” she chirped happily before the call disconnected and the screen went black.

With a weary sigh, I stuffed my phone and wallet into my pocket. Time to get this shit over with.

9

Layla

The elevator stopped on my floor with a tinnydingbefore the doors slid open, and as soon as they did, I choked on the spit in my mouth, swallowing it down the wrong way, because...holyGod!

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