Hook Up (Taking Chances Book 2) Read online

  “Eh. She dislikes running just as much as you do.”

  “Then call Cody. You know he’d go with you.”

  “Ha. Wouldn’t that put a damper on the whole finding a guy thing?”

  Wickedly, her lips quirk up and her eyes tell me she knows it’s because I’d be too focused on not drooling over him to seek another man. “You never know,” she sings.

  “Well, I know enough. I’ll pass.”

  “Suit yourself.” She bounds back to her side of the salon to finish cleaning.

  No way I’ll take Cody to the park with me. I can only imagine how ramped up sexually I’d be afterward.

  * * *

  A glass of my favorite cheap red wine, my feet propped up on the coffee table, and my phone in hand, I’ve decided I’m going to try to convince B to take a stroll with me. The last time we went, we had a good time. Sure, her pace was slower than what I’d normally do, but it got the job done.

  Me: Do you have any early days this week?

  B: All week except Thursday. Why? What are you plotting?

  Me: Want to run with me in the park?

  B: Seriously?

  Me: Call it an early start to your bachelorette party.

  B: Park vs beach. Tell me how this will be a party.

  Me: You’ll be with me. I’m always a disco ball.

  B: I love you, disco ball. But I’m passing. What if I break a leg or twist an ankle before the wedding?

  Me: Then I’ll wheel you down the aisle.

  B: As romantic as that sounds…

  Me: What’s the difference between a club and beach vs running at the park?

  B: The running part.

  Me: Fine.

  B: I love you.

  Me: Says the woman who makes a shitty wingwoman. LOL Love you.

  Ugh.

  Worrying my bottom lip, I stare at my phone contemplating calling Cody. We’ve spent time together, even alone time, doing what friends do, but he’ll be hot and sweaty while being hot and sexy. Those two combined can’t be good. It’ll end in disaster. Right? Can I even hold back my vag from jumping him?

  THREE

  Numbers. I’ve been fascinated by them since I was a child—their simplicity and their complexity. Some answers are easy while others take time to figure out, and then there’s the questions that can never be answered. Numbers click in my head. I see them in my mind so real, it’s as if I could reach out and touch them.

  But my passion is accounting and not the mathematics that cradles all of us since creation.

  Number crunching is a hobby. Ledgers are my passion. Analyzing is an addiction. And financial statements are my porn.

  Nerd? Sure, but the best damn looking one you’ll ever find. Fresh out of college, my best friend, Nathan Bennett, started his company, Bennett Towers, and brought me on as his CFO. It didn’t take him long to explode the business into a multi-million-dollar company and he relies on me to keep his ass…ets straight.

  Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m pretty damn good at what I do.

  Saving the second quarter financial report I had Bill from the team run, I close the program as my cell phone begins to ring. The name on it causes me to grin.

  This should be interesting. Everything about her is.

  “Are you calling because you’ve come to your senses and want to give me a try?” I sing my greeting as I rest back into my leather chair, spinning to the window overlooking the city.

  “In your dreams,” Aimee scoffs with mirth and I picture her rolling those beautiful blue eyes. “Actually, I need a favor. It’s weird.”

  She never calls in favors. “Hmmm,” I hum. “This sounds promising. You have me intrigued. Go on.”

  “I need a bodyguard.”

  I bust out laughing. “I believe you have the wrong number. I work with numbers not muscles.”

  Her sigh is heavy with frustration. “I want to go jogging in the park, but I don’t want to go alone.”

  My brows furrow. “You do realize we have one of the safest parks around with zero incidents in the last twenty years, right?”

  “Yes. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying. I’m always on my treadmill. I need fresh air with new scenery while you…trail me.” She ends in a hushed mumble.

  Another laugh rumbles out of me. “Trail you? I’m good enough to be your protector, but only at a distance?”

  She groans. “Single men are in the park.”

  The muscles in my body tense with aggravation. For months I’ve been trying to get Aimee’s attention, but she has some bullshit idea that since her best friend is marrying my best friend, we’ll screw up nature’s course of action. What-ever-the-fuck that’s supposed to mean. She’s bullheaded as fuck. My compliments, our flirty banter, the way I eye fuck her…she may falter, but she never breaks.

  “Yeah. I know. I’m one of them,” I say, keeping my composure.

  “I knew it was stupid to call.” The vanquish in her tone guilts me. I may not be able to have her in the way I want but spending any time with her is a good enough excuse for me. It’s torture, but the pain is worth the pleasure her smile brings.

  “When do you want to go? You know I can’t do Saturday mornings unless you want to trail us.”

  “Anytime after work, except on Tuesdays.” I can hear the excitement in her tone.

  I check my watch and smile, thankful for the long summer daylight. “You up for a run tonight? Say around six?”

  There’s a short pause before she answers. “Is six-thirty okay?”

  “Meet me in the parking lot by Synergies. But, I’m not trailing you. You’ll be beside me.”

  “Fine,” she snaps, but I sense her smile.

  After we hang up, I lock my desk, shrug into my jacket, and head home to change. It’s no secret I want Aimee. Particularly in my bed. I’ve been upfront and very vocal about it since I met her. She’s my apple—the forbidden fruit I know I shouldn’t taste, but damn if she’s not tempting as fuck. With bewitching glacier-blue eyes that seem to peer into my soul, long golden platinum blonde hair, and perfect lips, fit with a cupid’s bow that are in need of mine.

  Tempting is a fucking understatement.

  * * *

  Aimee pulls into the parking spot beside me in her metallic gray Mazda SUV and pops out. When she rounds the ass-end of my Durango and moves into my view, I immediately know I’m in for the worst case of blue balls ever.

  Brazenly, I allow my gaze to take in her perfectly curved body. The black crop-top keeps her tits snug against her chest and reveals the skin of her stomach. Her black skintight leggings may as well be painted onto her lithe hips and long legs.

  I swallow, steeling my expression…slightly. “Now I understand why you need a bodyguard.”

  She glances down to herself and back up to meet my gaze. Her lips contort to the side in a confident smirk. “You realize these are normal clothes every other woman out here is wearing?”

  “I do, but they’re on your sexy as hell body that will be in my arm’s reach for the next hour.”

  She swats my stomach as she passes by. “Thank you for this.”

  It’s a given I’m going to trip over my tongue.

  I’ve done my best to stay focused on everything except her. Unfortunately, I’m failing because I can’t stop peeking at her out of the corner of my eyes. We haven’t spoken again, only falling in a comfortable silence.

  “Do you not listen to music?” she asks as she taps the wireless earbud in her right ear.

  “Nope. Rather let my thoughts come and go as they please.”

  Her chin tips up slightly and I’m pretty sure she just rolled her eyes in true Aimee-fashion behind her sunglasses.

  It makes me chuckle. “I do my best thinking while running or in the shower,” I tell her. “Subconsciously you think about certain problems all day. When you don’t focus on them and let your mind wander, your solutions careen into the conscious part.”

  She fakes a yawn, patting her h
and over her mouth. “You’re boring me.”

  I grin. “I take it you don’t enjoy intelligent conversations?”

  She tilts her head toward me, flashing a knee-buckling smirk. “Maybe if the person I’m speaking with was intelligent.”

  “So I’m not smart enough to talk but good enough to be your bodyguard?”

  “You possess the brawn but lack the brains.” Her sentence ends with a giggle.

  “You’re in horrible luck then. I can only bench press twenty-five pounds, thirty on good days. And I’ve never been in a fight.”

  She cracks up. “Pfft, puh-lease. You’re a shit liar. I’ve seen you…” Her words die on her tongue, stopping abruptly.

  I hum, delighted. I’ve always loved her reaction to being thrown in the fire. When she’s put on the spot, especially from me or a conversation about me, she clams up. I also know how much of me she’s seen. I catch her glancing my way often.

  I allow a silence to settle between us again. Clamming her up and shutting her down are two different scenarios, and one of them I don’t like her doing.

  Forever indebted to my sunglasses, I steal more glances. Her face is round with high cheek bones, and although I can’t see her bright blue eyes, they’re forever engraved into my memory. I’ve spent more time than I’m willing to admit staring at them. Her mouth is parted as she sucks in breaths, her lips lush. When those lips twist into a smile, I know for a fact she can light up a dark room on a moonless night at midnight.

  She’s strong and independent. She takes care of herself, more so now that she feels forty is right around the corner from her twenty-five. I watch as her legs stretch out in front of her, allowing her white sneakers to pound into the pavement. The tops of her tits that are exposed from the suffocating fabric jiggle as if they’re begging for attention.

  Abruptly, she disappears out of my view. Turning back, I spot what ripped her away.

  He’s at least six-foot tall and muscular with dark hair and… a damn Weimaraner.

  Fucking great…

  I watch them interact for a second. Scott, aka douche, is all wide smiles and stupid laughs, eying Aimee as she squats to love all over the lucky dog. It’s licking her face as she looks up to talk to him. He sees me approaching and whispers something to her under his breath.

  Aimee stands and glances over her shoulder. “Oh. He’s just my—”

  “Boyfriend.” I toss my arm over her shoulder and give douche a megawatt smile.

  “Cody,” she grinds out between the smile she’s biting.

  “She gets insecure when her birthday gets closer. Has to prove to herself that she has it.” I smile down at her. “I promise, baby. You’re only getting better with age. You’re fucking beautiful.”

  “Right,” douche draws out slowly as he looks down to the dog. “It was nice meeting you. I need to get her home so I can get back to the office.”

  If I was an eye roller, my eyes would be rolling down the sidewalk right now.

  As he runs off with the dog beside him, Aimee growls as she spins out from under my arm and shoves my chest. “I’m going to murder you. What the hell was that?” Her face reddens.

  I lift a shoulder. “He was a loser.”

  She shoves her glasses on top of her head and her blue eyes turn icy. Damn she’s gorgeous when she’s mad. “You don’t know that. Are you jealous? I would have never thought you of all people possessed that quality.”

  “Not in the slightest,” and that was the truth. I don’t get jealous.

  “This was a horrible idea. What the hell was I thinking?” She springs off into a jog.

  I catch up with her. “Don’t be mad. He wasn’t any good for you.”

  “Really?” she deadpans. “You figured this out in less than three minutes? Please enlighten me.”

  Blessing her with a shit-eating smirk, I do just that. “His watch. He was purposely flaunting a Rolex on a run in the park. No one does that. Except for people who need attention and validation from women and respect from men. He probably has a shit job and picked up a part-time job to save every penny so he could have something he could brag to his boys about.”

  “You ruined my chances of a potential date with a guy who was actually pretty damn cute because he wore an expensive watch? That only verifies the jealousy thought.”

  “Ever seen my watch?”

  “You don’t wear one.”

  I smirk because I wear many expensive ass watches. “You don’t put an expensive watch on a pedestal. You wear it discreetly. No need to boast about my paycheck to get respect.”

  I’m pretty sure she just rolled her eyes again. “So, you cock blocked me because he does something differently than you?”

  I go on to explain more of my observations. “He’s wearing an expensive ass watch yet cheap ass clothes. He’s a fake.”

  She groans but doesn’t speak.

  And to sweeten my argument. “Also, the dog wasn’t his.”

  “Was it wearing too luxurious of a collar without updated shots?” She shakes her head with annoyance, twisting her lips with sarcasm heavy in her tone.

  “He said ‘her.’ The dog was a male.”

  She comes to a halt. Still pissed but slightly surprised. “Seriously?”

  “Pretty sure female dogs don’t have balls.”

  She glowers.

  “Pay attention to shit, Aimee. Be meticulous and perceptive to things. You’ll spot the losers faster. Besides,” I spread my arms to the side, “the right man is standing right in front of you.”

  Her upper lip curls. “You’re incorrigible.”

  And she’s back to running away.

  Push and pull. Flirt and detest. Seen and be invisible. Try and ignore. That’s our relationship.

  We round the corner—the last leg of our jog—with only the sound of our breathing and our shoes hitting the sidewalk.

  “Are you ready for the wedding?” she asks.

  That’s another thing I’ve learned about Aimee. Give her enough time, and she’ll calm down.

  “You mean the opportunity to have you dolled up and on my arm for everyone to see? Damn right I am.”

  She giggles but then her smile slips down her face and I know exactly what just crossed her mind. Less than a year ago, her ex-boyfriend admitted to having an affair for months and that he had feelings for his side piece. He moved out and to another state. Stupid ass. Only cowards cheat. Emotionally weak, attention-hungry cowards. I’m far from perfect, but I know a good thing when I see it.

  “Even if he didn’t cheat, you would’ve been miserable making the worst mistake of your life,” I offer.

  “Why? Because it isn’t with you,” she jokes, but the hurt in her tone is evident.

  “Besides that obvious truth, you two weren’t meant to be together. You deserve to be happy and madly in love. You weren’t that with him. Only content.”

  Mad eyes cut to me from behind her glasses, but she doesn’t say anything until she slows to a walk as Synergies comes into view.

  “Fine. You have a point.” She sounds like there’s a gun pointed to her head.

  Immediately, I stop. I clutch my chest and suck in a gasp. “You mean…you mean I was right?”

  I love it when she rolls her eyes.

  The playful moment is short-lived. “Thank you for coming with me. I really need to find new friends. Shyla doesn’t run unless something is chasing her and Brooklyn…well, Nathan is keeping her in shape.”

  “Anytime.”

  I watch as she hops into her car and drives away.

  One day, she’ll see me and she’ll cave against the walls she’s built.

  FOUR

  I will never ever, never ever, ever understand why couples want to combine their bachelor and bachelorette parties. This is supposed to be their last hoorah, their last chance to celebrate with friends as a single person, responsibly of course. I mean, I’m all for committed relationships, so no sexing it up is allowed. You’re about to spend the rest of y
our lives together. Why must you share the last big single shebang too?

  Maybe I’m just sour? Bitter because in less than a year, I’ve planned two weddings and neither of them have been mine. Or the fact I’m sharing a luxury beach rental with two couples who are madly in love and I’m not.

  I shake the shitty fog out of my head. I blame the plane ride. Altitude makes me grumpy.

  Nathan rolls his and Brooklyn’s suitcases into the massive three-story navy-blue house followed by Brady and Shyla, Cody, and me. My breath catches as we step into the main living area. All sour, bitter, grumpy feelings fly out the window.

  I’ve never had a shit ton of money. Luxury is something I’ve always admired from afar. But with Brooklyn marrying a loaded Nathan, I get to experience some of it in person.

  The house has an open plan with floor-to-ceiling windows immediately putting the beach on display the moment you step through the door. The colors are all neutral—beige ceramic floor tiles with tan sofas and a large flat screen TV decorating the wall. The kitchen is off the living room with white cabinets, white marble counter tops, and stainless-steel appliances. It screams beachy—a perfect oasis in Florida.

  “Your room is on the second floor,” Brooklyn says as I continue to look around the place. “Shyla and Brady get the master. You and Cody get the corner rooms.”

  Cody grabs my suitcase. “I’ll take it up.”

  Once he bounds up the stairs, Brooklyn is at my side. “You okay?”

  I beam as my wide eyes rip away from the beach to her. “I’m in awe of this place. It’s stunning and better than anything I could afford.” I hug her neck. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  She squeezes me. “You think I wouldn’t have my best friend with me?” She pulls back, her hands not leaving my arms. “I know we’re all sharing a space, but us girls are going to go out and have a damn good time. I heard there is a great club close by.” She nudges me with her shoulder. “We can shake our asses.”