The good ones are taken, p.1
The Good Ones Are Taken, page 1
Praise for The Good Ones Are Taken
“Fresh, sexy, and fun... McCoy always adds depth to stories that makes them impossible to put down.”
—Catherine Adel West, author of The Two Lives of Sara
“A hilariously fresh take on dating in the modern world: the good, the bad, and the love that’s been there all along.”
—Charish Reid, author of Mickey Chambers Shakes It Up
“The hallmarks of a Taj McCoy romance are all here: delicious food, ride-or-die friends, spicy sex, and swoon-worthy love.”
—Danielle Jackson, author of Accidentally in Love
“Taj McCoy’s writing positively crackles with energy, wit and humor. The Good Ones Are Taken is just the right amount of sweet and salty. Delicious like kettle corn. Yum.”
—Jayci Lee, author of Booked on a Feeling
“A heartfelt, delicious, joy-filled, friends-to-lovers journey I’ll never forget!”
—Courtney Kae, author of In the Event of Love
“I laughed, I yelled ‘oh hell no!’ and most importantly, I couldn’t stop smiling anytime the two main characters were with each other. That’s the sign of an incredible love story.”
—Darby Baham, author of Her New York Minute
“What a joy of a book! It’s a novel where our heroine Maggie neither shies away from nuanced conversations nor the heart-thrilling heat of romance. A true HEA!”
—Tif Marcelo, USA TODAY bestselling author of the Heart Resort series
“This book was enchanting and delightful from start to finish.”
—Elle Cruz, author of How to Survive a Modern-Day Fairy Tale
“Taj McCoy speaks TRUTH about the travails of modern dating with sass and heart... A steamy (*fans self*) reminder that the best man for you is sometimes right there all along.”
—Susan Lee, author of Seoulmates and The Name Drop
“A sizzling friends-to-lovers romance that’s as grown and sexy as it is tender and sweet.”
—Myah Ariel, author of When I Think of You
“Sexy, swoon-worthy, and hilarious. The Good Ones Are Taken has a charming heroine with an unforgettable voice and a love triangle that had me turning pages well into the night.”
—Riss M. Neilson, author of A Love Like the Sun
Law grad Taj McCoy is committed to championing plus-size Black love stories and characters with a strong sense of sisterhood and familial bonds. Born in Oakland, Taj started writing as a child and celebrated her first publications in grade school. When she’s not writing, Taj represents other marginalized writers, serves as a consultant in higher education, practices yoga and cooks supper-club meals for friends.
TajMcCoyWrites.com
Also by Taj McCoy
Savvy Sheldon Feels Good as Hell
Zora Books Her Happy Ever After
Edited by Taj McCoy
Even If the Sky is Falling
The Good Ones Are Taken
Taj McCoy
To anyone searching for love—you are deserving, you are enough.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Acknowledgments
1
Her eyes locked with another pair on the other side of the bar—deep brown eyes framed with black, curly lashes and bookended with laugh lines. Maggie’s heart flopped in her chest as she inhaled a breath, almost willing the scent of his cologne to travel the fifteen feet to where she sat. He looks like he smells good.
The man looked back at her, eyeing her intently. His long locs were pulled back into a messy bun, random tendrils reaching toward his bearded jawline—a lone streak of silver to one side of his manicured chin. His full lips spread into a wide smile bright enough for a toothpaste ad, and he raised two fingers in the air before beckoning her over. He jutted his thumb toward a booth behind him where the table was set with a bottle of champagne on ice and two empty flutes.
Maggie’s eyebrows shot up, and she pointed at herself. “Me?” she mouthed.
His smile widened and he bit his lip as he nodded slowly. The carnal look in his eyes spread warmth to her belly.
She swiveled her bar stool to the side, a moment from stepping down and crossing the room before she caught a glimpse of the woman standing directly behind her. Late twenties, svelte and a dress that hugged every curve of a Coke-bottle figure. She had deep dimples, and her honey-blond goddess locs were pulled up and away from her face, showing off her sparkling green eyes and fluttering lashes. The woman strode to the other side of the bar confidently in stiletto sandals tied just below muscular calves. The sexy, loc’d-up couple embraced tightly, kissing twice before they slid into the booth and poured themselves some bubbles. They snuggled close as he raised his glass to toast the occasion, his beautiful date beaming as they clinked their glasses together and tenderly locked lips.
Damn. Strike one.
Maggie turned back to face the bar, sipping the final dregs of her cocktail before running her fingers over her glass of water. The ice had melted and the glass was slick with condensation. With the pad of her finger, she drew a figure eight before dabbing it on a cocktail napkin. She opened her mouth to ask the bartender, Matt, for her check when someone spoke behind her.
“Anyone sitting here?” The rich baritone voice sent a delicious shiver down the back of her neck.
Maggie peeked coyly over her shoulder, her right brow arching slightly as her eyes swept over the tall specimen behind her. The man wore a tailored black suit with a loosened silk tie and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His easy smile widened as she regarded him. “Seat’s all yours,” she responded slowly, her voice a sultry whisper as she swept a loose coil behind her ear. She turned back toward the counter, sending an amused wink in the direction of the bartender.
“Thanks.” He slid onto the bar stool and unfastened his tie, tucking it into his jacket pocket.
Matt nodded a greeting. “Hey, man, looks like you could use a drink. What can I get you?”
“Yeah, let me get a Maker’s Mark old-fashioned, and another drink for the lady.” The handsome stranger tilted his head in Maggie’s direction, turning to observe her. His salt-and-pepper fade contoured down to a closely cut beard; a few grays speckled the sections framing his mouth.
Matt nodded and set to making the drinks.
Maggie eyed the man next to her, notes of spiced oud and sandalwood invading her senses from his cologne. “Thank you.”
“What you drinkin’?” He crossed his arms, setting his elbows on the bar. He leaned toward her slightly, pointing to her empty cocktail glass.
“A filthy gin martini, extra olives.” She accepted a fresh glass from Matt and took a slow sip, savoring the briny liquid. Her heel crooked over the stool’s footrest, she flexed her foot and then pointed her toe, her feet still sore from enduring a long day of meetings. She’d braved the day in her favorite Cole Haan pumps, mistakenly deciding that she didn’t need to carry her customary pair of flats in her laptop tote. Never again.
“Long day?” She eyed him curiously, the stem of her martini glass between her index and middle fingers, her palm flat against its cool foot. Slowly, she swirled the contents of her drink, her shoulders finally beginning to relax, courtesy of Tanqueray.
He nodded. “You could say that. Divorce mediations. You?”
“Tax attorney, and it’s nearing April.” Maggie sipped slowly, willing the gin not to take hold of her too quickly. “I’m sorry about your marriage.”
His brow lifted. “How did you know the settlement was mine? I could be the attorney.”
She pursed her lips, considering that statement before shrugging a shoulder. “You could, but your thumb keeps rubbing against the space between your middle and ring finger, like you’re missing something.”
The bartender slid over a glass tumbler filled with an oversize ice cube, amber liquid and an orange peel. The man took a big gulp before jutting his chin upward in thanks. “I guess as an attorney, you know all the tells.”
Her face softened slightly. “Not all of them, but I’ve seen enough to know it’s not going well.” She regarded him out of the corner of her eye for a moment. “Sorry.”
His shoulders slumped a little. “Not your fault. All mine, really.” He took another gulp, almost finishing off his drink, gazing at her in her cream pantsuit and camel pumps. He leaned a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “This may be forward of me, but you are a very beautiful woman. Would you maybe want to get out of here?” He raised his eyebrows as he pressed his lips together.
Maggie’s eyes widened as she sputtered, almost choking on her cockta il. “Damn, you just go straight for ass, huh?”
Shocked, he laughed awkwardly. “Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying until after it came out of my mouth. Please don’t be offended. I just—My eyes were immediately drawn to you when I walked in and, honestly, I’ve been out of the game for a long time.” He put a hand to his chest as he apologized, frustration furrowing his brows.
Maggie tilted her head as she employed the poker face she used with her clients, her gaze moving back and forth between her drink and the bartender, who had frozen at the proposition. “Well, I appreciate the compliment and the drink, but I’m going to have to pass. I’m not really the type to bust it open when I don’t know your name, we’re not dating and you’re still married. That’s a lot to ask of a stranger.” She shook her head, chronicling this proposition among the many things she intended to share with her girlfriends over dinner. Who does that?
The man pressed his lips together and nodded, chuckling. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. My wife and I, we’ve been living separate lives for a long time, though I can understand why it still sounds fresh. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Maggie smiled down at her drink and flipped her wrist at him. “All good, and thanks for the drink. Honestly, I’m still getting over my own breakup, so I wouldn’t make great company tonight.”
The man turned his entire body to face her, his knee bumping the outside of her thigh. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m obviously not a relationship expert, but I can listen.”
Sweet Jesus, that was not an invitation. She shook her head slowly, her lips pressed together in a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Not tonight, but thank you.”
It had been a few months since Rob left, and the sting of his betrayal still burned right below the surface of Maggie’s skin. She thought they were getting close to moving in together, but he had already set his sights on someone else. Now she wanted nothing more than to junk punch him in front of his new girl. Too embarrassed by the fact that he chose someone else, she preferred to brood over a cocktail rather than air out her hurt, even though her eyes had opened to the potential for someone new. Just not this guy. Being in the midst of divorce proceedings didn’t exactly signal emotional availability. Now, if only he would take a hint.
The door opened, and a couple of women breezed toward a high-top table in dark corporate suits, their identical bobs parting bone-straight hair with recent highlights. Maggie’s neighbor perked up, and she prayed silently for his departure.
“Will you excuse me? I think I recognize someone,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the newcomers.
“Of course. Thanks again.” Maggie raised her glass and watched with amusement as he moved quickly across the room and greeted the pair, neither of whom seemed to recognize him. That didn’t stop him from planting himself at their table, oblivious to the panicked look on their faces. Maggie winked at Matt, who rested his hands on the bar, an easy smile spreading across his face. “That was...a lot!” She rested her chin in her hand, shaking her head as she laughed.
He whistled in agreement. “One more for the road, Mags? On me. You deserve it after—” he gestured around chaotically “—whatever that was.”
She grinned. “You know what, Matt? I think that I’m going to save myself from strike three and head on home. Can you cash me out?” She handed money to him to cover her drink and tip.
“You got it.” He moved over to a digital register—a tablet connected to a cash till and a printer. “Thanks, Mags. See you next week?”
“Uh-huh.” Maggie’s eyes were drawn across the bar to the-booth-that-could-have-been: the loc’d couple entwined and oblivious to the world around them. Their lips and hands were in constant movement, connecting fervently, and when they broke apart to breathe, the intensity of their gazes told everyone in the room what time it was. These two were going to ravish each other, probably before they even made it home. Their kisses made Maggie ache low in her stomach.
I want that.
* * *
Maggie stepped into her Santa Monica condo and immediately kicked off her shoes as she shut the front door. “Penny!”
The communal living space was open concept—Maggie loved a great room. A giant U-shaped couch faced a mounted flat-screen TV. Behind the sofa, bar stools framed the kitchen island. A floor-to-ceiling wall of windows on one side held bifold doors that led to a long balcony. On the other side of the couch was an eating nook and a hallway leading to Maggie’s bedroom and her home office.
The wood floors felt cool against her aching feet as she removed her blazer and hung it on the back of one of her bar stools. “I know you’re hungry! Where are you?” She crossed into the kitchen, the travertine tiles even colder against her skin. Maggie reached into the pantry for a package of Fancy Feast. “Hmm...what’s on the menu tonight?” she murmured, turning over the small tray of food in her hand. “I’ve got grilled salmon for you! Your favorite...”
“Meow.” A fuzzy shadow of Penny slinking into the living room appeared. No doubt she’d spent most of her day sprawled on Maggie’s king-size bed. A Himalayan with a deep gray face and paws and big blue eyes, Penny’s snub-nosed glare could rival the resting bitch face of any local celebrity avoiding the paparazzi. She’d been a surly kitten when Maggie adopted her—the only one at the shelter who stood away from the others with her incessant “fuck around and find out” expression. A girl after Maggie’s own heart. It was love at first scowl.
“Hello, my lovely. Did you have a good day?” Maggie crooned.
Penny leaped up onto a bar stool and then hoisted herself to the island counter, nuzzling the palm of Maggie’s open hand as she stepped toward her saucer. She tapped a paw on the plate and looked up at Mags as if to say, “What are you waiting for?”
“Okay, okay.” Maggie grabbed a spoon from a drawer and ladled half of the portion in the tray onto Penny’s dish. Once she’d tapped the spoon on the plate to drop the last morsel, Penny licked her lips and went to work. Maggie ran her fingernails along Penny’s back and tail, accumulating a small ball of fur, which she tossed in the trash can under the sink. “We need to have a good brushing session this weekend, ma’am.”
Penny eyed her for a brief moment before returning to her meal. Maggie held up her hands and walked away slowly, heading down the hall to the bedroom. As she walked, she untucked her camisole from her slacks, easing it over her head and throwing it into a hamper in her open walk-in closet. After unzipping her pants, she stepped out of them and dropped them onto a pile of clothes to take to the dry cleaner before walking into her bathroom on the other side of the closet.
She unfastened her bra, relieving her full breasts from their wiry detention, and exhaled happily. Once she brushed and pinned up her hair, wrapping it into a silk scarf, Maggie dropped salts and tulip-scented bubble bath into her tub, running hot water and humming to herself. “Hey, Alexa, play the wind-down playlist.”
“Now playing ‘Wind Down.’”
Goapele’s “Closer” began to play softly through the speakers that Maggie recently had mounted into her walls. She tugged her lacy thong down and off, examined herself in the mirror before washing her face carefully, trying not to disturb her lash extensions. She patted her face dry with a fresh hand towel before easing into her steaming cloud of bubbles, the fragrance and heat easing her muscles as she sat and relaxed. Maggie rested her neck against a soft pillow at the lip of her tub, allowing the hot water and bath salts to melt away her aches and the stress of tax season. Exhaling deeply, she let go of the day, but the couple in the booth clung to the edges of her thoughts, and she wondered what they had gotten into as she lathered her body with a rich cleanser and exfoliating gloves.
After her bath, she sat on a teak bench and slathered body butter over her brown skin, still unable to shake the couple from her mind. Flashes of them kissing and pawing at each other ran through her head, and she closed her eyes, imagining that those lips and hands were on her own body—the two were equally sexy, so she let her mind wander as she considered what it would be like to experience the two of them together. Maggie had never been with a woman, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it. She pulled a silk robe over her shoulders and padded toward her bed, stooping to pull her favorite purple toy from the bottom drawer of her nightstand.
