Page 18

THIRTEEN

Beck

I was lifting a glass of bourbon to my lips when I saw Jolie. She was near the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, her back facing me, but she had glanced over her shoulder, and we connected eyes.

Those beautiful light-blue eyes and that wild red hair.

She was as stunning as the first time I had seen her—even more so. But it was like seeing a fucking ghost.

One that continued to haunt me, even to this day.

Fuck.

Why was my dick instantly hard?

Fuck.

Why was my heart screaming, like I’d just finished over a hundred suicide drills, and I couldn’t catch my breath?

Fuck.

Why did my body react so quickly to her?

Fuck.

My hand had frozen midair, halfway to my mouth, but I felt it lower to my side, and my feet were moving toward her, only stopping when I reached her.

Whether this was the right moment to speak to her or whether I should wait a few minutes to get my thoughts straight—it didn’t matter. My body had made that decision for me.

“Jolie …” As the word left my lips, I smelled her.

Vanilla amber.

A unique twist on a traditional scent that I’d only ever smelled on her.

And an aroma that brought back the most vivid memories of the three hottest nights.

“Beck …” Her hands were empty, and one went into her hair, holding a chunk of locks, her fingers lost within them. “Hi.”

I leaned toward her, and at first, I was just going to give her a one-armed hug, a greeting that felt appropriate, given our past. But as I neared her face, I found not only my arm wrapped around her, but I was kissing her cheek too.

I hadn’t been prepared for the softness that hit my lips.

Or the intensity of her scent now that I was this close.

Or the way her eyes closed as my mouth stayed on her skin, breathing her in.

How had I gone so long without speaking to her?

Touching her?

Tasting her?

Her hand landed on my biceps, holding it and then squeezing it. Fingers that stayed in that position until I pulled away.

“It’s good to see you.” I gave her a smile and shifted my focus to Ginger, extending my hand in her direction, recalling her being there the night I’d met Jolie at the bar in Boston and Jolie telling me stories that involved her.

“We’ve never officially met, I don’t believe. I’m Beck. And you’re Ginger, I assume?”

She nodded with an intense amount of energy. “Oh my God, you know my name. Yes, hi! It’s so, so amazing to meet you!”

I chuckled.

Ginger’s gaze turned to Jolie at the same time I released her hand. “I’m going to give you guys a couple of minutes. I’ll be over there.” She pointed to the other side of the bar.

Jolie followed Ginger’s finger before her stare returned to me.

I couldn’t tell by her expression where her head was.

I was sure she was shocked to see me—there was no way she could have known I’d be here.

I’d just decided to come less than an hour ago, and I’d slipped in through the back, so if there were any paparazzi lingering around the front of the club, they wouldn’t see me.

If there was excitement, I didn’t see it on her face. If she was annoyed or feeling disgruntled, I didn’t see that either.

All I saw was this nervous energy rising across her and coming out of her fidgety body.

“What brings you to LA?”

Her arms crossed over her stomach, the movement causing her tits to lift, the tops popping out of her black dress. “Work.” Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“Ah, yes.” I finally took a drink. “That must be your life now? You’re graduated and employed by Dad?”

She nodded. “Things are quite different now compared to two years and nine months ago.”

“Two years and nine months,” I repeated, calculating how much time had passed and realizing she was correct. “I can’t believe that’s how long it’s been since I saw you.”

She rubbed underneath her lips. “I know.”

“Shit, that seems like forever.”

“Because it was.” Her hand left, and she smiled. “I didn’t even have to use a fake ID to get in here.”

I laughed. “Finally of legal age.” I took another sip, keeping my finger there to wipe off the wetness the bourbon had left behind.

“That’s a good thing, too, since my guys can detect a fake regardless of how good it is.

Although, for you, they might have made an exception just because of how gorgeous you are. ”

Her face turned as it became redder, but her eyes stayed on me. “What do you mean, your guys?”

“The bouncers outside work for my family and me. Everyone in here does. We own this place.” I crossed an arm and held the tumbler near my chest. “I think I must have told you that?”

“Musik.” Her hand went over her mouth. “You’re not going to even believe me, but I didn’t realize we were here—at Musik, I mean.

Ginger arranged all the VIP stuff ahead of time, and I was on an important call with my dad when we arrived, completely distracted.

I could have been landing on the moon for all I knew.

She told me she was bringing me to one of the most popular clubs in LA, and I didn’t ask any questions. ”

“If I had known you were coming, I would have had your entrance fees waived.”

“I didn’t even know I was coming.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if you had known …”

“Yeah, as in if you’d texted me.”

She let out a sound that was somewhat like a laugh. “We haven’t texted in a long time, Beck, and this isn’t the only trip I’ve made to LA that you didn’t know about.”

I hissed out some air. “Scandalous.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re the one who stopped messaging me. Not the other way around.”

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to put my fucking hands all over her.

I wanted to pull her toward me and kiss her.

“I want to talk about the texting …”

“Oh God,” she groaned. “If you’re about to give me an excuse, it’s okay, you don’t need to.

You’re one of the most popular players in the league.

Women throw themselves at you. You didn’t need to keep in touch with a twenty-year-old—or however old I was at that point—who was living on the opposite side of the country as you and who you were likely never going to see again. ”

“That’s what you think?” My brows shot up. “That your age and location are the reasons I stopped reaching out?”

“Both of those combined, along with the fact that you probably have an identical situation”—she swept the air between us with her finger, the movement signifying the three nights we’d spent together—“whenever you have a break on the road.”

My head shook back and forth as I laughed. “That’s what you believe?”

“A million percent.”

“I told you, there’s never been anyone like you.”

She shrugged.

“And you didn’t believe me.” I waited. “You still don’t.”

“Why does it matter what I believe, Beck?”

I stared at her silently for a moment, debating whether I wanted to do this or not, and then I pulled out my phone, hitting my Contacts, where I filled in her name and pulled up our last group of texts.

I turned the screen toward her. “Do you see the last message in green? The one I sent, inviting you to go to Africa?” I stalled while she read the words.

“The look on your face right now and the fact that you never responded—that tells me the message definitely never went through.”

She grabbed the phone out of my hands and held it in front of her face.

“You need to know that I thought it had gone through, Jolie. And I thought you’d ignored the invite and blown me off.

I didn’t realize there was a difference between green and blue messages, and the green meant it wasn’t guaranteed to be delivered until I was in Boston last season.

I was in the locker room after the game, pissed off that we’d lost so badly and—if I’m being real fucking honest—pissed off that you hadn’t reached out.

My buddy told me to message you, and when he saw my screen, he told me the text probably hadn’t gone through. ”

She slowly looked up from my phone and gave it back to me. “You meant to invite me to Africa …”

I shoved my cell into my pocket. “I wanted you there. I wanted to look at those stars with you. I wanted it to be the start of something more.” My dick fucking ached as I stared at her. “The same way I’d wanted you to come to Paris.”

“And the text never went through.”

It was as though she was processing the truth by speaking it out loud.

“I know I should have reached out once my buddy told me you probably hadn’t gotten my text.

Shit, I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.

That’s on me, and I take full responsibility for it.

I guess I felt like a fucking idiot, and some time had passed, and …

I don’t know.” I was starting to repeat myself, but the regret was coming on hard, making me feel even worse.

“I also could have told you I was coming to Boston to play. But at the same time, there was no doubt in my mind that you knew I was going to be there. I guess—and it was probably wrong to guess—that with the way things stood, with you uninterested and not responding to my invite, I figured you didn’t want to see me.

” I shoved a hand in my pocket to stop it from reaching for her. “Or you were dating someone.”

“And that’s what I assumed too.” Her voice was so soft. “Just flipped the other way around.”

I took a drink, hoping the liquor would put out this fire in my body.

But I knew—fuck, I knew—it would only ignite it more.

Especially as I said, “Jolie, things between us never had to stop. Just because I hadn’t seen you, I still thought about you.

And I wanted to see you. I would have kept trying even if Africa hadn’t worked out.

” The honesty was lifting from my chest, and I didn’t try to tame it.

I had nothing to lose by telling her the truth.

I was beyond single—a phrase that made me smile inwardly—and not a single woman I’d come across after all this time even came close to measuring up to her. “You’re still on my mind. Even now.”