The Lineup Read online

We both laugh and I adjust myself on the couch, turning more toward Knox. “So, I uh . . . went to see Dottie at her office today.”

  “Jesus, fuck. Why?” Knox groans, slouching.

  “Because, I owed her a date and if anything, I keep my word. I took her food.”

  “How did she react to seeing you? Did she mention me?”

  “Umm.” I look away. “You know, she might have mentioned your name.”

  “Jason. Fucking hell, man.”

  “Before you start throwing up everywhere—”

  “Why would I throw up?”

  I shrug. “Nerves?” Knox rolls his eyes so I continue. “I told her you didn’t tell me anything, that you wouldn’t. I blamed it all on Carson.”

  That makes Knox chuckle. “Okay, I can get on board with that. So what did she say? Was she into the date?”

  “Well, at first, she threatened security on me, but I coerced my way into her office along with food and quite the spread of dinnerware. I set up our food and we ate . . . in silence.”

  “Oh fuck.” He chuckles. “She silenced you?”

  “Yup.” Shifting, I get closer. “Have you ever seen her eat before?” I bring my hand up to my mouth and impersonate her rather robust way of eating, going to town on my hand. Knox throws his head back and laughs while shaking it yes.

  “Oh shit, yes. When she’s into something she’s eating, it’s like she can’t focus on anything else. It’s a sight to behold.”

  “You could say that,” I say, draping my arm over the couch. “Frankly, I was impressed, and maybe a little turned on. If she can eat a burger like that, how good would she eat my dick?”

  Knox punches my side. He does it so fast I have no way of protecting myself.

  “Dude,” I moan, falling into the couch. “What the hell was that for?”

  “Don’t talk about Emory’s friends eating dick. Jesus, man.”

  “Touchy,” I grunt out.

  “Get back to what happened. She ate her burger and then what?”

  “Like I said, it was kind of a turn-on, seeing her devour her meat like that. Oh fuck, and she made this offhand comment about being able to handle any meat that comes her way. I got hard immediately.”

  “You’re so fucking horny.”

  “It’s been a while, so don’t dick shame me.” I take a bite of my brownie, letting the chocolate soothe my aching loins. It’s been a loooong time since I’ve been in the presence of a naked woman and even though she was a snarly beast of a woman, there was something about Dottie that piqued my interest. Until she sent me on my way.

  “Just get on with it.”

  “After we were finished eating, I tried to strike up a conversation, but I probably took the wrong approach by commenting on how she downed her burger.”

  Knox winces. “Not smart.”

  “Yeah, I realize that now, but before I knew it, I was being dragged out of her office by security.”

  “Oh fuck, seriously?” Knox laughs.

  “Yup, arm in arm, dragged right out of there. But don’t worry, by the time we made it to the lobby, I was best friends with the guys.”

  “I wasn’t worried.” Such a dick. “Dottie is a tough one. She’s hardened over the years. Back in college, she was warmer, more welcoming, but over the last few years, she’s really become more closed off. Emory was saying it’s because—”

  “I’M PREGNANT,” Emory yells as she sprints down the hallway, right into Knox’s arms.

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, we’re having a baby.”

  “Holy shit, babe.”

  Emory cries.

  Knox cries.

  Hell, I get teary eyed. And as I watch them kiss and talk quietly about the little bundle of joy they created, it hits me how fast things are changing. My best friend is going to be a dad. A dad. But that kid? He’ll be the luckiest kid on the planet . . . but I can’t help wondering . . . what was the end to Knox’s sentence?

  Chapter Seven

  DOTTIE

  “Why did you bring booze?” I ask Lindsay as we ride up to Knox and Emory’s apartment in the elevator.

  She looks at the bottle of champagne in her hand and says, “Because we’re celebrating. Bubbly is always needed when celebrating.”

  “She’s pregnant; she can’t drink.”

  “Who cares about her? I have a babysitter and I plan on drinking.”

  “How thoughtful,” I say sarcastically.

  “You’re a little more irritable than usual, what’s your deal?”

  I have yet to tell my friends about the impromptu “date” I had Friday night. I considered it, but when Emory called us Saturday morning to tell us the news, I knew talking about Jason’s sudden appearance wasn’t necessary. And I plan on keeping it that way. No one needs to know. I took care of it. It’s all done.

  “Just tense. Work stuff,” I answer as the doors part and we filter into the hall. Knox and Emory have their door open, already greeting Carson and Milly.

  When Emory sees us, her eyes get all watery, and I can’t help but feel the same way. She has loved Knox for so long, and to see her finally happy with the man of her dreams, it lightens up my walled heart I’ve worked so hard at turning dark.

  “You guys, I’m pregnant.” Emory greets us once Carson and Milly make their way into the house.

  Lindsay is the first to pull Emory to a hug, so I turn to Knox who has a weird look on his face. I give him a hug and say, “Congrats, Knox.”

  “Uh, thank you.” He looks into his apartment and then gives me a half-smile.

  Okay, that’s weird.

  I swap with Lindsay and give Emory a big hug. Friends since we were kids, it feels like yesterday we were huddling in her room, going through our high school yearbook, putting hearts next to all the guys we thought were hot.

  Grown-up, with adult jobs, and apartments . . . it’s crazy how time flies.

  “I’m so happy for you two,” I say into her ear while my arms are wrapped around her. “You guys are going to be amazing parents.”

  “Thank you.” She pulls away, but she keeps her hand on my arm when she says, “And thank you for coming today. I know it’s going to be weird.”

  She walks me into her apartment. “Why would it be—?”

  My words are cut off the minute I see Jason standing by the window, a smile on his face, a drink in his hand, and his eyes trained on me.

  Oh crap.

  I’ve been so caught up in work and Emory’s news that I completely forgot that not only does Jason live across from Knox and Emory, but he’s really good friends with them too.

  From the side of my mouth, I ask, “What did he say to you?”

  Emory continues to smile and holds her non-existent belly. “Just that you had security drag him out.”

  I press my hand to my forehead. “Jesus. Did he say that he came unannounced and was bothering me? He commented on my eating.”

  “Yes, we heard all of that, but it was also sweet what he was trying to do, so you didn’t need to throw him out.”

  No, that’s exactly what I needed to do. He is sweet, too sweet. And the problem with sweet is that he’d tire of my barbs. I’d have to change my world to be with someone like him. So, nipping any attraction in the bud was crucial. I needed him to see me as someone who’s emotionally unattractive, so there was no chance to make a proper connection with me. Did I enjoy being so dismissive and cold when it came to my college crush, the man I’ve lusted after for so long? No, it was painful. It hurt to see him be dragged out by security. It wounded me to hear the things he mumbled as he made his way out of my office. It was embarrassing to see the looks on my security staff the next day as I arrived for work. They’re professionals, so they were careful not to show bewilderment, but it was there. Subtle. What Jason did was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and that right there was a warning sign. Stay away, heart could be broken . . . easily. Just like Nick.

  “Poor timing. I was very busy,” I
say, even though it isn’t the truth. But they don’t need the truth; they might not understand my hesitation, and I don’t want to be convinced otherwise. I glance around, feeling my body start to retreat but Emory has a firm hold on my arm.

  Sheesh, for a pregnant woman, she’s surprisingly strong.

  “I will remind you, this day is about me and Knox and you are one of my best friends, so I expect you to be here celebrating for a long time with all of us. And there will be no drama.”

  I hear what she’s saying, and even though I want nothing more than to sprint back to my apartment and enjoy a nice bubble bath where I can attempt to forget this is happening, I know Emory’s right. I’m here for a reason, and I’m just going to have to strap on my big girl panties and work through it.

  “You don’t even need to mention it.” I kiss her cheek. “Let’s show this baby what it has to look forward to.”

  * * *

  “Are you just going to avoid me the entire party?”

  My back tenses as Jason’s body presses against me, his shoulder rubbing mine as I stare at the skyline. It’s been ten minutes.

  Ten minutes of pure torture.

  Little glances here and there, smirks from the man who I had extracted from my office only days ago, and winks . . . God, can he stop with the winking? It’s weird, and it keeps heating up my body with every dip of his long eyelashes.

  But deep down, despite my don’t come near me vibes, I knew he’d make his way toward me eventually. He’s the guy who doesn’t let things go, but rather he builds on them and builds on them. Looks like we’re about to have our first layer.

  “Not avoiding you,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the city outside. “Just don’t have anything to say to you, therefore, I haven’t spoken to you.”

  “Nothing to say to me? Really? You had me carried out of your office by two men who happen to be great friends of mine now and you have nothing to say?”

  Of course they are. There’s no doubt Jason won them over with his charm. At least that explains the looks I received.

  “No, nothing. And I had security come and get you for good reason; you were bothering me when I was trying to get work done.”

  “Bothering you?” he asks, his voice rising.

  I shush him quickly. “Don’t make a scene. This is a party for our friends. Let’s keep it that way and not turn it into whatever dramatic affair you’re about to make it.”

  “Dramatic affair?”

  “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

  “Repeat everything you say? Pishh.”

  Oh my God, he’s annoying. Really freaking annoying.

  Hot, with the best butt on a man I’ve ever seen, but beyond annoying. But I also can’t blame him, because despite the façade he’s trying to mimic—if the hurt in his eyes is any indication—he’s a man who wears his emotions on his sleeve. It must have bruised his pride to not be fawned over, or even appreciated for his kind gesture. I know I would be if I were in his shoes.

  Keeping calm, I say, “Unless you have anything of substance to say to me, I suggest you move it along.”

  He pauses and I can feel his eyes blaze a trail up and down my body before saying, “Damn, girl, how long has that stick been shoved up your ass?”

  No, he didn’t.

  Calm breaths. He’s hurt, he’s mad. You are better than this . . .

  I turn to face him with a smile on my face. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you, means I have a stick up my ass? Are you being sexist?”

  He smiles back and pats my arm. “No, if I was being sexist, I would have said women as a whole have sticks up their asses. As far as I can tell, you’re the only one who’s bent over and begging for a flagpole to be shoved up there.”

  “Wow, you’re offensive.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?”

  He shrugs, then gives me another once-over. Motioning to my purple turtleneck dress that covers my entire upper torso and hits me just above my knees, he leans in and asks, “Are they in hiding?”

  “In hiding? What on earth—?”

  “Dottie, you’ve got great tits. Why are you hiding them?”

  Okay, I am trying to work out if that was a compliment or a dig. I still have no clue why he’s talking to me, especially now that I know he thinks a stick is up my ass. I lean forward and press my hand to his chest, still keeping a smile on my face. “Maybe I don’t have to show off my tits to be friendly. I don’t see you hanging your balls out of your zipper.”

  Of course, he smiles at that. “Want me to?”

  Argh. I give up.

  “You’re disgusting. Stay away from me.”

  “Fine by me.” He gives me a quick pat to my arm and takes off.

  The fucking nerve of that man. Are they in hiding? What was he even thinking coming over here? Let’s see how much I can push Dottie to her limits?

  Well, he got me there, because I’m fired up and ready to do some damage.

  * * *

  “Did you try the potato salad? I heard it’s amazing.”

  Seriously?

  I look over my shoulder to find Jason hovering over me, plate in hand, ready to dig into the buffet of food Emory and Knox had catered.

  “You’re breathing on my neck.”

  “Want me to lick it too while I’m this close?”

  Is he mad? Is he flirting? Is he trying to annoy me into submission? What is it? Pick a lane, man.

  “I’d rather stab my eye with my fork,” I answer, putting some potato salad on my plate and moving out of the way.

  Lindsay is busy talking to Carson and Milly. Emory and Knox are speaking with a few of his teammates, which leaves me to myself. It’s for the best, as I’m not feeling very conversational right now.

  But as I’m about to stick a forkful of potato salad in my mouth, Jason takes a seat next to me and sets his drink on the side table between us.

  This man has a death wish; it’s the only explanation why he’s coming for round two . . . or would this be three if we’re counting my office?

  Ignoring him, I take a bite and—oh my God . . . this has to be the best potato salad I’ve ever had. Without even thinking, I scoop up another forkful and stuff it in my mouth. Barely chewing, just swallowing because damn, this is so good, I hear Jason clear his throat as I’m about to stick the last bite in my mouth.

  “Enjoying that, aren’t you?” His smile is so wide, I want to flick it back in place with my middle finger. I felt bad for him earlier, now I’m just irritated.

  “Yes,” I answer curtly as I put the last forkful in my mouth.

  “Good to know, because I made it.”

  My mouth pauses, the beautiful dill and sage flavoring immediately turning sour and before I can stop myself, I lean my mouth over my plate and let my half chewed-up potato salad fall past my lips and back onto my plate.

  “What the—?”

  I set my plate on top of his, stand from my chair, and go back to the buffet where I serve myself again, this time, avoiding the potato salad altogether.

  * * *

  “You look tense,” Lindsay says, carrying a glass of champagne in her hand and when I say glass, I mean a pint glass filled to the top.

  Class doesn’t exist within her.

  “You think?” I look around, spotting Jason talking to Carson and Knox. They all laugh at the same time, three perfect smiles gracing all their handsome faces.

  “Does this have to do with Jason? Is it because you’re so overwhelmed with his hotness? Tell me about it. It’s hard being in this apartment right now with all these athletes. I mean, just look at the way they all grip their beer bottles. By the neck, like they’re choking the bitch for some nectar.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I take her pint glass away. “You need to start drinking water before you embarrass yourself.”

  She retrieves her pint glass and takes a big gulp. “Embarrassing myself is in my nature. Why are you trying to change me, Dot
tie? Let me live.”

  “Yeah, let her live, Dottie.” Jason stands in front of us, “choking” his beer while the other hand is casually tucked in his pocket.

  Where the hell did he just come from? It’s as if he floated across the hardwood floor and appeared out of nowhere.

  Why is he talking to me? I’m sure he doesn’t find me pleasant at this point, I don’t even find myself pleasant. Have you ever gotten yourself in a mood and have to go to bed in order to press the reset button? It’s the only way out. That’s where I’m at.

  I’m mad at myself for being rude when I shouldn’t be. I’m mad at myself for allowing one single man to ruin future interactions with men to the point that I’m quick to defend and retaliate rather than befriend. And I’m mad at myself for not being able to actually be normal around someone who I’ve actually thought very highly of for quite a long time.

  But for some awful reason, even though I can calculate those thoughts and feelings in my head, it’s as if I can’t translate them for my body so it will act like a normal person. And I’m sad that he probably thinks I’m a horrible human now, most definitely not worth his time. And that is not what I want, not deep down.

  “Oh, Jason.” Lindsay giggles uncontrollably. “Look at you standing there with all those muscles.”

  Great, Loose Lips Lindsay just made it to the party.

  Like the cute doofus he is, Jason flexes his bicep and says, “Thank you.”

  I pretend not to look, but who am I kidding? The man is a walking sex machine, and seeing him flex, his bicep popping up like a second head, makes me want to claw at his shirt to see the rest.

  I’ve seen the rest with all my cyberstalking, but in person is a whole other beast.

  I bet he’s a beast in bed.

  An animal.

  An animal with a really good tongue.

  “Tongue,” I mutter, startling myself.

  “What?” Jason asks.

  Eyes wide and panicked, I stand there mute. Umm . . .

  Lindsay thankfully says, “You’ve met Dottie, right?”