Page 9

Nine

NAT

Fuck. Me.

Rizzo can dance. And I don’t just mean he doesn’t have two left feet. This. Man. Can. Dance .

I hadn’t been banking on that when I’d issued my little challenge earlier—after another mind-melting kiss that should not have happened. I’d been thisssss close to saying fuck it and finding a storage closet somewhere, or hell, maybe even going at it right there on the gym floor, but somehow managed to rein myself in. Barely.

Despite the little slip up earlier, tonight has been an absolute blast. Hattie semi-successfully taught the whole group a handful of line dances, though Howey and Jules both still kind of look like fish flopping around on the deck of a boat half the time. Jules does actually look cute in his ten-gallon hat, I’ll give him that, and he and Bobby keep bumping into each other and cracking up, so it seems like everyone is having a great time. Hattie is definitely in her element and I see many more nights at the Tipsy Cowboy in our future—especially because I can tell how much she wishes Shep was here too.

Rizzo, the sneaky bastard, can two-step like nobody’s business. He’d held a hand out to Hattie in invitation as some fast-paced country song that I’d never heard came on. We both looked a little skeptical, but Hattie had slid her hand into his and then the two of them started burning up the floor, spinning and twirling and moving like they should be on Dancing with the Stars or something. Hattie had grinned so big I was surprised her cheeks didn’t hurt. I felt a little pang for my friend then, realizing how much she must miss home and doing things like this that she obviously loves.

She’d left for a new start and to get away from her psycho ex, not because she didn’t love living in the south. I can’t imagine having to give up everything I knew and loved for fear of my life and starting over completely. Sure, I’d lived on the East Coast for a while for school and work after graduation, but I always knew I could come home any time I wanted. Hattie doesn’t have that luxury and it makes my heart hurt for her. I know she’s happy here now, but it was definitely an adjustment for her at first. I hope nights like this make her feel a little less homesick.

I’d narrowed my eyes at Rizzo after that first dance with Hattie and he’d grinned like a jackass, clearly proud of himself for his big reveal. Of course, the girls have been all over him since the minute we walked in, but even more so after that little demonstration. There really is just something about a man who can dance …Most of them don’t even seem to realize he’s a professional athlete, just an insanely good-looking guy who can move his body in ways that should be illegal, and he’s all too happy to spin them around the floor.

And I’m not jealous at all.

Despite the cold temps outside, Hattie and I had decided to lean all the way into the evening’s theme and are clad in matching cut-offs, boots, and crop-tops. The look on Rizzo’s face when he’d walked in had been priceless, and I hope that anyone else who noticed just chalked it up to Rizzo being Rizzo and flirting with anything with a pulse. Despite all the attention he’s getting, I don’t miss the way his gaze seems to find me no matter where I am in the bar, and that assuages a bit of the jealousy. Not that I had any to begin with. Whatever.

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Hattie calls, her cheeks flushed.

“I’m good!” I tell her. “I’m gonna grab a bottle of water and then I’m gonna head out. You go ahead.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home alright,” Rizzo says, sliding up beside us. Hattie gives me a pointed look and I narrow my eyes at her. “I don’t mean like that,” he adds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I mean, I’m sticking around for a bit longer, so I’ll make sure she gets into her Uber safely on her way before I find someone to take me to bed or lose me forever!”

I look at him, torn between amusement of him being him…and irritation at the idea of him taking some random girl home.

“Did you just quote Top Gun ?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.” I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. I turn back to Hattie, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m good, really. Go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She eyes me and then Rizzo, but lets it slide before whistling to Jules, Bobby, and Howey.

"Alright, y'all, let's mount up and ride out!" I wave to everyone as they make their way towards the exit and Rizzo leans his elbows on the high table.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“A blast,” I yell over the music. He leans in close to my ear.

“You gonna make me go the whole night without a dance, Nat?” He pulls back and quirks a brow in challenge, and I can’t help but smile. I probably shouldn’t but…fuck it. Not like either of us is dumb enough to hump each other in the middle of the dance floor…I don’t think, anyway.

“Let’s go, Thirst Trap.” I grab his hand and tug him to the floor, throwing caution to the wind a bit now that our friends are gone. A new song starts up just as we find a clear spot and he reaches out and tugs me close. We start dancing, moving together as if we’ve done it a thousand times. It’s a fast number, and we flash across the floor, spinning and turning and twirling, and soon I’m damn near giddy, laughing and smiling like an idiot.

When we come back together, I yell up at him, “Ok, spill it! Where the fuck did you learn to dance like this??” He smiles widely.

“I learned so I could impress a girl in high school. Transfer student from Tennessee!” he calls over Flatliner and I laugh out loud.

“Why am I not surprised?” He reaches up and tips the end of his hat to me with two fingers and I can’t even begin to explain why it’s sexy. While Jules looked adorable in his hat, Rizzo looks like the male lead from a cowboy romance. In fact, he could probably model for one of the covers shirtless in that hat and it would sell a million copies. He shrugs and twirls me outward again.

“What about you, city girl? Why do you know how to two-step?” I’m not nearly as good as Hattie, but I can hold my own.

“College,” I say with a shrug, as if that explains everything. He laughs and spins me again. His hands move all over me, leaving little licks of fire in their wake, but it isn’t until the song fades into a slower one, Chris Stapleton singing about Tennessee Whiskey, that I realize just how close our bodies are, just how good it feels being like this with him. He swallows hard but arches a brow in question. I nod and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close and making me shiver where his fingertips skim over my bare skin. We start to spin slowly, everything suddenly hot and heavy around us.

Of course the sexiest song known to man had to come on. I’m suddenly hyperaware of every spot that Rizzo is touching me, of the way his muscles move and flex beneath that tight white t-shirt; the way his tight jeans sit just right; the way he can’t seem to stop looking at me like he wants to bend me over the bar…

“So, I think you should crack your shell just a tiny bit, Natalie Morgan,” he finally says, low in my ear. It’s like we’re in some weird little bubble now, just the two of us out here on the floor even though we’re surrounded by people.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I shared with you. I think you should share with me. It’s only fair. It’s what…friends do,” he says, but I would swear he hesitates on the word friends for a second. He’s got a point. I know I’ve kept walls up, but if this is really my life like I told dad it was, then I can’t keep these people out forever. They are my friends, especially Rizzo.

So, I eye him and say, “You get three questions.”

“Ten,” he counters immediately.

“Five. For tonight,” I clarify. He eyes me but finally nods.

“Alright, five it is. For tonight ,” he repeats, letting me know that I’ve just opened up the door and he doesn’t plan on ever letting me close it again. That should worry me, honestly, but it doesn’t. If he figures out who my dad is—who I am—well, so be it. I’m tired of worrying about it. I mean, it isn’t like he’s a mobster or the President or something, I just didn’t want his name and all the attention and expectations that come with it following me around—which is why I took mom’s last name when I was fourteen, much to dad’s chagrin.

“One: what exactly were you doing before you moved back to Seattle?”

“I was working in New York for a real estate acquisition and development company.”

“That sounds…fancy?” I laugh and hike a shoulder. It was what it was. “Did you like New York?”

“I miss the pizza,” I admit. “But I like Seattle more—that counts as your second question, by the way.” He rolls his eyes and slowly spins me out away from him and then back tight into his body, skating his fingers up my spine and making my breath hitch.

“Siblings?”

“Nope, just me.”

“Parents? I mean, I know your dad lives here and your mom passed, but…” He trails off, leaving the question open. He knows the very, very basics and he’s asking for more. So, I take a deep breath and give him something real.

“My relationship with my dad is…complicated. It always has been. We butt heads a lot, but at the end of the day, we love each other. And mom died from a brain aneurysm. She went to bed one night and just…didn’t wake up in the morning. She was gone. Just like that.” I still don’t think I’ve processed losing her completely, but each day is a little easier…until it’s somehow worse than the day it happened. It’s like a rollercoaster: ups and downs and twists and turns, and just when you think you’re on a good beat, suddenly the damn thing shoots you backwards and your free-falling and wanting to puke.

“I’m so sorry, Nat.” One day I’ll tell him more about it. About her and our life and losing her, but tonight I just nod and give him one of those it’s-not-ok-but-it’s-ok smiles.

“Last question,” I say quietly, running my hand up his chest and around the back of his neck, toying with the edges of his hair. He holds my stare, reaching up to lightly pinch my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I swallow hard, searching his eyes for something to keep me from falling, but all I find is a stronger desire to. Stupid, stupid, stupid . Wanting another round of mind-blowing sex is one thing. Falling for Anthony Rizzo is something else entirely.

"I really want to kiss you again," he says.

"That's not a question," I say, barely a whisper but he somehow hears me over the music. His lips curl up into a sexy smile and I hold my breath while I wait for him to lean down and kiss me. The song ends and he blinks, shaking himself.

"Come on, let's get you home." I nod, half hoping that he means that he's coming home with me, not just throwing me in an Uber. He leads me out to the parking lot and to his waiting Maserati and my pulse races. It’s black and sleek and sexy, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to ride in it. He’s got a big ass Range Rover too, and I think an old Mustang. The guy likes cars, that’s for sure, and I idly wonder how much extra he pays for parking spaces for all of them in the garage beneath that fancy apartment building of his.

He opens the passenger door for me and I eye him.

"I had one beer when we first got here six hours ago and nothing but water since then. I promise I'm fine to drive." I nod, trusting him completely, and settle down into the soft leather seat. He starts her up and Hannah Montana—or technically Miley Cyrus, I guess—blares from the speakers, so loudly that I wince. He quickly twists the knob to lower the volume and I eye him.

"Uh, Ollie was in the car earlier…"

"Mmm hmm…"

He pulls out of the parking lot and we sit in silence for a few minutes, but then Rizzo starts to sing along quietly, giving me a sidelong glance, and I bust out laughing. I reach over and crank the music back up and then we're both signing it at the top of our lungs. We have a full karaoke party all the way through town, me giving him directions here and there to my place. Eventually, he pulls up outside the house and kills the music. My cheeks and belly hurt from smiling and laughing so hard, and he wipes tears from his eyes.

“Those are so not the words,” he says, still laughing.

“They are too! It doesn’t make a difference if we’re naked or not . That’s what he says!”

He clutches at his side.

“It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not. Make it or not.” I grin, realizing that he’s probably right now that he says it, but refusing to let him win.

“Nah, it’s definitely naked. I will die on this hill.” He smiles and shakes his head, muttering something about a loss cause. Eventually the laughter fades and he nods towards the big craftsman.

“Nice house.”

“It’s where I grew up, actually. I moved back in after…when I came back from New York.” He nods in understanding and I lean back against the headrest, turning my face towards him. He’s so handsome I could cry, but it’s more than that.

“Why do you have to be so much fun?” I ask with a sigh.

“Fun is a bad thing?”

Fun is a…complicated thing that could lead to even more complicated things because I’m really, really starting to like Rizzo more than I should.

We sit there in the quiet, just looking at each other and it’s a nice moment. There’s that simmering heat just beneath the surface like there always is between us, but it’s also an easy, companionable moment to just be with him. He’s one of the few people that I can just sit with and not feel any pressure to fill a silence or act a certain way.

After a few minutes I realize I need to make a decision here. I can get out of the car, say goodnight, and stay on the smart path of one-and-done (with a few kissing indiscretions here and there, admittedly).

Or, I can invite him in and have another amazing night of sex, and set myself down the path to inevitable heartache. Just as I'm about to make the dumb decision and tell him to turn the car off, he takes a deep, almost shuddering breath, as if he's preparing for something unpleasant. Or scary. I tilt my head, immediately on alert.

"Will you have dinner with me?" he blurts. I blink in confusion, clearly mishearing him. "Not tonight, obviously," he says, waving towards the dash clock. "I mean…do you want to go out with me? On a… date?"

I stare at him incredulously. He's fucking with me, right?

"You don't date," I remind him slowly.

"Well, I've never climbed Mount Everest either, but I'm sure I could do it if I wanted to,” he says almost defensively and I remember how competitive he is about literally everything . The Bop It Incident flashes through my mind and I almost laugh. Suffice it to say that he and Howey ended up rolling around on the floor trying to pummel each other, and the Bop It wound up sailing through a window and landing in a pile of snow.

"You're seriously…asking me out?"

"…Yes?" he says, though it comes out as question.

"Why?"

"I…don't know." Well that's a great answer. My face must say as much. "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant…I want another night with you, Nat. And I don't want it to just be a random hook up…" He only sounds half sure and bless his heart for trying, as Hattie would say, but I think even the thought of dating is giving him hives. I don't think I've ever seen Anthony Rizzo nervous about anything, even when he's playing for division titles or throwing down with three guys on the ice. But right now it looks like he might just puke or pass out or both.

"I don't think of you as just another booty call or one night stand, Nat. I want you to know that. So, I thought…dinner."

I huff out a small laugh. It's actually really sweet that he's trying to make sure I don't feel like I'm just one among the many, but that's still what I'll be. Having dinner first won't change the fact that he'll have another puck bunny tomorrow, and another the night after that, and another two or three when they go to Philly next week.

And that's totally fine. That's his life and it's one he enjoys. I'm not asking him to change that for me…not that I think he's capable of changing it, even if I did ask.

"Rizz, stop. Look, I appreciate you not wanting me to feel like a random hook up, but you don't have to do all that. It's ok. I know what this was. Is. Was." I can't keep it straight. "I'm not asking you to change anything or pretend to be something you aren't."

He eyes me, like he's trying to read if I'm serious or not. He gets that determined look in his eyes, like he has when he's on the ice: laser focused and seeing a thousand tiny details all at once, coming up with the perfect plan to make his way to the goal no matter who or what stands in his way.

"So, is that a no, then?"

"It's a…" I bite my lip, searching his eyes and wanting nothing more than to say yes, regardless of how fucking stupid it is. "It's an I'll think about it."

He smiles and nods and before I can stop myself, I'm across the seat and kissing him again. He makes a surprised noise, but quickly tangles a hand in my hair and kisses me back. Slowly. Deeply. Making my toes curl in my boots and my stomach flip. His lips force mine apart and his tongue delves into my mouth, stroking mine and gently demanding what he wants. I’m powerless not to give him anything and everything. I tilt my head, letting him control the kiss and steer it anywhere he wants. I toy with the hair at his nape and inhale sharply when his hand glides down my side, fingers skating over bare skin. I arch my hips upward, wishing this car had more damn room right about now.

“ Natalie ,” he sighs in an amused, accusatory groan.

I pull away and curse against his lips. "Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I've gotta go." He chuckles lightly and I kiss him once more, quick and soft, before practically leaping from the car like it’s on fire. I don’t make smart choices when in confined spaces with Anthony Rizzo.

He leans across the seat and grins up at me.

"Night, Nat."

"Get some sleep, Thirst Trap," I say breathless. "You've got a big game tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am.” I laugh and shake my head before closing the car door. I wave him off, hopping from foot to foot to keep warm, but the car stays put. He rolls the window down.

"I'm not leaving until you get safely inside."

And he has to be a gentleman. Of course he does . The universe really hates me right now…but I'll have to thank his mother one day because she sure did raise a good one.

I roll my eyes but smile before turning and jogging across the lawn and up the front porch, freezing my butt off. The outfit choice was still worth it , I think with a grin, knowing damn well that Rizzo’s eyes are glued to my ass right now. I might put a little extra swagger in my step because, well, I can’t quite help teasing him.

I get the door open and wave as I step inside. He waves and finally drives off as I close the door and turn the lock. I lean my head against the cool wood.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

“Tell me not to sleep with Rizzo again,” I beg Hattie. I'm sitting on the table in her office next to a big ass bouquet of flowers, wrestling with my life choices. I'd dreamed about Rizzo all night. Like dreamed dreamed. The kind of the dirty persuasion that leaves you sweaty and panting and wishing it was real when you wake up. And I've been on edge all day from it, freaking desperate for him. It's getting really out of hand.

“From what you told me, you didn’t really do much sleepin’ the first time around.” I grab a notepad off the table and throw it at her. She ducks out of the way, laughing, and I love her so much but also want to strangle her right now.

“I’m serious!” I say kicking my feet in frustration. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer. I swear me telling him it was a one-and-done somehow made him more interested. He’s hinted at wanting another hook up since it happened," I hedge, not wanting to admit that I've already slipped with him more than once—just kissing, but still—"but now he’s being weird—he asked me to dinner. Like a legit dinner date .”

Hattie arches her brows in surprise, clearly saying how very un-Rizzo of him .

“Right?! That’s what I thought! I know it’s just a means to an end, another night in the sack, but still.”

“Well, what did you say?” she asks, not ready to just shrug it off, which only makes it worse. I don’t need her to be thoughtful and understanding. I need her to tell me I'm an idiot and to move on with my life— sans Rizzo's dick.

“I told him…I’d think about it.” I groan and put my head in my hands. “I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. When I knew it would just be one night of fun and then we’d be adults and just see each other at work like normal, it didn’t seem like that big a deal. I could handle that. But with him actively trying for another round?” I puff up my cheeks and let out a long, slow breath. “It’s a completely different ballgame that I am not equipped to play. I mean, you’ve seen him! I do not think with my brain when he’s around, I think with something else entirely and it very, very much wants me to accept his invitation. Actually, it just wants me to say fuck dinner all together and tell him to just take me to a hotel.”

Hattie laughs, running the edge of her pen over her bottom lip and looking thoughtful.

“Well…would it really be so bad if it wasn’t a one-and-done? I mean, plenty of people have steady fuck-buddies.”

“Yes! Or, well, no. Maybe? I don’t know! I was ok being a notch in his skyscraper-length bedpost for one really, really good night, but continually just being one in a rotation of countless women? I don’t think I could do it." I pinch the bridge of my nose, not wanting to admit that the thought of it actually makes me want to scream. Thinking about Rizzo with other girls is becoming…frustrating. Which really isn’t fair of me.

"Ugh, let’s change the subject. Who sent you flowers? The parade float guy? He seemed very smitten with you.”

“They aren’t from the parade float guy, thank you very much," she says, coming over to the table and messing with the flowers. "Well, I guess they could be—I don’t actually know who they’re from. No name on the note—but I doubt it. Parade float guy actually got Bobby's number, though he did mention another girl he was dating recently, so I think he's an into-the-wine-not-the-label guy.”

"Ooo" I say, excited for Bobby to finally have a date. He's been in a bit of a dry spell. "And?"

"Not a bad time, but no sparks from what I've been told."

“Well, hell, maybe I’ll call float guy then. Maybe he’ll get my mind off Rizzo and his giant co?—”

“Ok, ok, come on, you,” she cuts me off with a laugh. “Let’s go grab Bobby and head down to the game.” It's a big one tonight, sure to be a total gongshow, and I'm excited to get down there. Maybe watching Rizzo be an absolute menace on the ice will distract me from thoughts of him in other places…but I know deep down it'll just make me want him more. He's sexy when he plays, plain and simple. The cocky confidence, the buttery smooth way he flies over the ice, the way he handles the puck…It's hot, ok?

Hattie laces her arm through mine and we head out of her office. She leans in and adds in a low voice, “But, uh, explain exactly what you mean by giant ...”

I huff out a laugh as Bobby joins us.

“What are we laughing about?”

“Hattie here wanted all the dirty details about a certain star center’s, uh, equipment.”

His brows fly upward but then his lips curl into a slow smile.

“Well, get on with it then. Share with the class, Natalie.”

I probably shouldn’t kiss and tell, but I give in and hold out my hands a good bit apart, palms facing each other to show them a measurement.

“You’re shittin’ me,” Hattie says, eyes wide and mouth open in shock and horror—and definitely some intrigue.

“You know, I’d heard rumors, but having them confirmed by a reputable source…” I punch Bobby in the arm and he grins.

“Would you two hurry up? We’re going to miss the best part of the entire night: pre-game stretching.”