Ten first dates, p.23
Ten First Dates, page 23
Huh.
I didn’t see her in the hallway after I left the bathroom.
I spot Miles, Siska, and Bellamoore in the corner talking to a couple of chicks, so I approach them. “Any of you guys seen Shayna? I can’t find her.”
They all glance at each other and shake their heads.
“Haven’t seen her, man,” Miles says.
“Is that the girl dressed as RBG?” one of the girls asks.
“Yeah.” I nod, hoping she’s seen her.
“She was in front of me in line for the bar and I saw her bolt out of the room. She looked really upset.”
My chest tightens. What the hell would’ve upset her?
I look at the guys and Siska has an “oh shit” expression.
“What happened?” I grind out between clenched teeth.
Miles raises both hands. “In all fairness, we had no idea she was within earshot.”
“What happened?” I repeat, stepping forward.
“We were talking about the bet when we were making our drinks. If she was in line, it’s possible she overheard us. So, did you do the deed?” Siska smiles, apparently not giving one shit about the fact I care for her. “I mean, I’m not asking for proof, but—”
“Fuck!” I roar. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Why do you care so much about her?” Bellamoore asks. “She’s just a piece of ass, and if you nailed it, you get your truck back. No more walking for you.”
My heart trips over a few beats when I think of how Shayna must’ve felt when she heard about the bet. I can only imagine the way these three were probably carrying on.
“I’m sorry, man,” Miles says, but I’m already pushing my way out of the kitchen to see if she retreated to my room.
“Why are you sorry?” Siska asks. “I’m lost.”
“Did you dipshits ever think maybe he fell for her and wasn’t going to make you make good on the bet?” Miles says behind me. “He invited her here, didn’t he?”
“To get some ass,” Bellamoore says, obviously clueless. “To win the bet.”
I get to my bedroom and whip open the door. Empty.
Damn it.
Yanking my phone from my back pocket, I dial her number, stepping into my room and closing the door.
No answer.
I try again, and this time, I’m sent to voicemail right away. Which means she did overhear and she’s sending me there on purpose.
I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose and inhale deeply. It’s okay. I can fix this. I’ll just explain what happened, she’ll understand, and we can move past it.
After I grab my jacket from my closet, I rush out of the apartment without telling anyone. They’ve already done enough tonight. I’m pissed at them even if there is a voice in my brain that says it’s my fault for not calling off the bet or telling her in the first place.
I have to make Shayna understand how much I’ve fallen for her.
It takes a while, but I finally figure out where Shayna lives and get someone to let me into her building. It helps that most people on campus are eager to please me and know I’m not some creep.
I make my way to her dorm room and knock on the door. No one answers, but I knock again because one of the girls downstairs told me she saw Shayna come in about a half hour before me.
After I knock again, there’s shuffling behind the door. It opens halfway, revealing a red-rimmed-eyed Shayna.
“How did you find me?” Her face is blotchy too.
The sight threatens to bring up all the alcohol I’ve drank.
“I asked around. I need to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” She moves to shut the door in my face, but I slap my hand on the wood, stopping it.
“Shayna… what you heard… it wasn’t how it sounded.”
She cocks out a hip. “So, you didn’t make a bet with your friends that you could get me to sleep with you?”
I sigh, the nausea in my stomach growing.
“That’s what I thought.” She tries to close the door, but I stop it again.
“Yes, I made that stupid bet with them, but I never planned on going through with it. I just said yes to stop them from harassing me about you. Siska is an asshole and he was going to…” I can’t continue because thinking of Siska trying to get her into bed disgusts me. “It was a stupid thing to do.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s an understatement.”
I grip her shoulders. “I’m sorry I hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about the bet before we slept together? You let me think this meant something to you. I feel like such an idiot.”
I brush a tear that drops down her cheek. “It did mean something. You mean something. I really like you and I don’t want to lose you.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true. If you liked me, you would’ve been honest with me. Maybe not from the start, but certainly when we slept together. Do you have any idea what it felt like when I overheard your friends talking about me that way? Like I was a pity fuck. Like the only way you’d sleep with nerdy me was because they bet you?” Her voice is louder, and I see the ire in her eyes.
“I wanted to tell you. I did, I just… there never seemed to be a good time.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore, because now that you’re passing biology, you don’t have to spend time with me again.”
I let my hands drop from her shoulders. “Shayna… you don’t mean that.”
“I do. You should go.” She steps back into her dorm room.
I put my foot out to stop the door from closing. “There has to be something I can do to make it up to you.”
“Sometimes once something is broken, you can’t fix it. Even if you glue all the pieces together, it’ll never be the same as it once was.” She inhales deeply, and tears gather again in her eyes. “You’re not the person I thought you were, Lee. I’ll never look at you the same way.”
I inhale, but I feel as if there’s no air. I step back, letting the door swing closed between us. When it thuds into place, I can’t help but think how the sound is so final, as though it’s a representation of the finality of Shayna’s and my relationship.
With my head down so no one can see the unshed tears burning my eyes, I make my way out of the dorm.
I feel lost.
And angry.
And frustrated.
I fucked up and I have no one to blame but myself. That’s the worst part.
I slump down onto a bench that lines the path, even though it’s freezing out. Then I pull my phone from my coat pocket and pull up my brother’s name. He should be finished with his game by now.
Kane answers on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Of course he can tell something is wrong with just one word. He’s not my dad, but he’s like a dad.
“I need a thousand dollars.”
“Why?”
And so, I tell him everything that happened between Shayna and me.
In the end, he tells me that sometimes you have to learn to live with your mistakes and try not to repeat them, that sometimes there’s no going back and fixing it.
I know he’s right, but I vow that someday, somehow, I will make this up to Shayna.
THE END
Eight years have passed since Lee broke Shayna’s heart when they find themselves working together. Pre-order YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, LEE BURROWS (Kingsmen Football Stars #1) to see what happens next! Spoiler Alert: Shayna’s not going to make it easy for Lee to get back into her good graces, let alone win her heart. If you enjoyed this prequel we know you’ll enjoy this enemies to lovers, second chance romance set in the world of professional football!
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ALSO BY PIPER RAYNE
Eight years have passed since Lee broke Shayna’s heart when they find themselves working together. Pre-order YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, LEE BURROWS (Kingsmen Football Stars #1) to see what happens next! Spoiler Alert: Shayna’s not going to make it easy for Lee to get back into her good graces, let alone win her heart. If you enjoyed this prequel we know you’ll enjoy this enemies to lovers, second chance romance set in the world of professional football!
Pre-Order Today!
ABOUT PIPER RAYNE
Piper Rayne is a USA Today Bestselling Author duo who write “heartwarming humor with a side of sizzle” about families, whether that be blood or found. They both have e-readers full of one-clickable books, they're married to husbands who drive them to drink, and they're both chauffeurs to their kids. Most of all, they love hot heroes and quirky heroines who make them laugh, and they hope you do, too!
SHOPPING FOR A BOOTY CALL
JULIA KENT
A short, hot, frustrating prequel. ;)
Long before Shopping for a Turkey, the first book in my Shopping for a Highlander series that features uptight Amy Jacoby and the ever-sensuous Scottish footballer Hamish McCormick, Amy and Hamish were in a wedding together.
Her sister and his cousin’s nuptials, to be specific.
This is the story of Hamish’s intensely steamy booty call, a subject mentioned over the years in my Shopping for a Billionaire series, especially Shopping for a Highlander, but now, dear reader, you will learn the truth about that infamous 3:00 a.m. call.
Every dirty word.
Getting a 3:00 a.m. booty call from one of Europe’s hottest footballers is every woman’s dream, right?
No.
It’s my worst nightmare.
My sister’s marrying a billionaire. I’m a bridesmaid, and the groom’s Scottish cousin, Hamish, is a groomsman. We’re paired together in the ceremony, and the man is so full of himself, he’s bulging at the seams.
Biceps bulging. Thigh muscles bulging. Everything bulging…
Overflowing with charm and oozing animal attraction, Hamish is irresistible.
And he knows it.
But I’m not looking or admiring, because once this wedding is over, he goes back to Scotland and does his cute little job, where he runs around with a bunch of other grown men who all get paid obscene amounts of money to chase a ball around on grass. And I can get on with my life and my goals.
That call, though.
That call changed everything.
How can I hate someone and want them so desperately?
Because it’s him. That’s why.
Copyright 2022 by Julia Kent
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Also by Julia Kent
About Julia Kent
CHAPTER ONE
Amy
Sweaty, shirtless, and rippling like a Kentucky Derby horse going for the finish line, a very late Hamish McCormick is in full sprint, wearing only red soccer shorts, white athletic ankle socks, sneakers, and a dazzlingly glorious grin as we assemble for a last dry run for my sister’s wedding to billionaire Declan McCormick.
Who is Hamish’s cousin.
I cannot take my eyes off the famous-in-Europe Scottish soccer player – er, footballer – who towers over even Declan and his brother Andrew. Declan watches Hamish’s sprint with narrowed eyes.
I can’t be sure, but it looks like a mix of envy and spite.
Competition is in the DNA of the McCormick clan the way frugality runs in my family: as blood sport.
Besides, I’m struggling to manage my drooling and that instant heat that creeps over my skin as I devour the sight before me. When a half-naked, increasingly famous athlete shows up in the middle of a workout, it’s a bit like being allowed to see the dress rehearsals for the Tony Awards.
You take as much in as you can, while you can, and just appreciate the art.
In this case, muscled art.
“Ma apologies,” Hamish says in that Glaswegian accent, barely breathing hard. He slaps an earnest splayed palm across his sweat-soaked pecs, the sheen on his skin catching the sun as it caresses his auburn chest hair, my eyes unable to stop feasting on this buffet of visual delights.
I can’t stand the man, but damn, he is fine to look at.
Approaching Shannon, he takes her hand in his and bows to kiss the back of it as she giggles, his dark red hair, nearly the same color as mine, bobbing insouciantly. It’s short in the back and on the sides but has a rakish wave that rests casually across his brow in front.
And it’s sweat-soaked, which somehow adds to the power of my response. Visceral and wholly biological, I’d have to be dead not to have a hormonal cascade at the vision before me, right?
Or be dead.
The thrum inside me, followed by a tingling sensation that spreads everywhere tells me I am definitely alive.
As he bends, the thick chain of muscles rippling across his broad back, narrowing along the spine, and funneling down to dimples at his waistband, forces me to begin fanning myself.
No. It’s not the July weather. Even I have to admit that.
“Forgive me, Shannon?” he asks, eyes looking up at her as he stays in the bow. All the women are now ogling him, and my mother is making a sound–mmm, mmm, mmm–that turns my stomach sour. Mom’s libido is no secret – because she won’t shut up about it – and normally I just roll my eyes.
A primal wave of possessiveness that freaks me out turns my reaction sideways this time.
“Of course,” my sister says, giggling again.
Declan’s look turns from annoyed to something deeper as his eyebrows judge Hamish.
“Hey, Terry,” Hamish says with a chin jut, acknowledging his other cousin, who is now filling in as best man. This extra rehearsal wasn’t in the original plans, but we’re doing it on the fly because the best man backed out of the wedding.
That’s right.
Declan’s brother, Andrew, has pulled out of his duties at the last minute because the wedding will take place outdoors. He’s terrified of wasps, though he’ll never admit it. Billionaires have this ego thing about perceived weakness.
Like my sister, he’s highly allergic and had a meltdown when he realized the ceremony and reception would be on the country club’s lawn.
I mean, I get it, and yet…
So now Terry is filling in.
Terry is Declan’s older brother, a guy who looks like he went to a Grateful Dead concert back in 1991 and never quite came back. He was on track to become CEO of Anterdec but walked away from it after their mother died twelve years ago, and how he could do that is beyond me. Shannon’s told me part of the story, but the bottom line: He’s a hippie leftover. Nice guy, but zero ambition.
I guess?
“Hamish. I see you’re adhering to the dress code,” Terry jokes. Hamish winks and spreads his hands all over his bare chest.
“Bit hot for a shirt, aye?”
“Oh, it’s definitely hot,” my oldest sister, Carol, says under her breath.
Did Terry just frown?
Mom picks this moment to insert herself, coming in from the side to give Hamish a hug, her face comical when she realizes too late how sweaty he is.
“Boston heat must be too much for a Highlander like you!” she jokes as Hamish smiles.
“I do what I can to manage.”
Then she looks him up and down and murmurs, “You manage all right. More like a Thighlander.”
“Marie!” Dad hisses, coming to collect her. Her glazed eyes meet mine before Dad hauls her off. As I watch them retreat, I see the similarity between Dad and Hamish.
No, not the rippling display of masculinity alone bones so fine and elegant they might as well be sculpture.
Dad, Hamish, and I all have the same auburn hair.
“Amy,” Hamish says, turning to me with a huge, engaging smile and a slight bow. “I’m paired wi’ ye, I know, and I promise no’ to be late fer the actual weddin’.”
“Why are you late?” Declan asks in a voice more curious than upset. “You look like you just came in from a practice.”
“Aye. Of sorts. Needed to bang out a run and do some sprints. Lost track o’ time.” He looks over my shoulder.
“Do you need a handler for that banging?” Carol jokes, her voice lingering on the word handler.
As in, she’d like to handle him, all right. And let’s not even start on the word bang.
That possessiveness rises up in me as Hamish’s hand knocks into mine for a brief second, the touch electrifying, my sister suddenly the enemy. Why is my body doing this to me?
I can’t stand this shallow excuse for a human being. Sure, he’s fine to look at, but nothing more. A blip in my life. He doesn’t deserve my body’s reaction.
But my sister deserves a smackdown for that comment.
I clear my throat, the minister watching us all with a mildly horrified expression. It’s a look I’ve come to know all too well, but it’s normally aimed at our mother.
“He’s a grown man, a professional who can juggle his own schedule, Carol.” I answer her, trying my best to sound bored so we can move on, get out of the humidity, and go back to doing what we do best at a wedding rehearsal
