Luck of Love, Page 3

  I can feel her trying to pull her hand back from mine, and I begrudgingly let her. Putting my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out to her, I say, “So, Blake, did you enjoy the seminar?”

  Breaking our gaze, her eyes dart away to Dean and then back to mine. I can see the tension in her shoulders; they were slack before we shook hands. I watch her as she takes a step back, trying to put some sort of distance between us. Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath. “Yes, Mr. James. I enjoyed the seminar very much. Thank you.” The tone in her voice is very controlled, and I can’t help but wonder why.

  “Good, I’m glad—” I don’t even get to finish my sentence as I hear her ask Dean if he’s ready to go.

  Speaking up, I ask in a rush, “Blake, can I speak to you for a moment in private?”

  Quickly focusing her attention back to me, her eyes turn into slits. “Why do you want to speak to me?” She asks in a hushed tone.

  Straightening to my full height, I make myself taller as I say, “Because I’d like to speak to you for just a moment in private please.” I’m sick of her attitude. Nodding to the corner behind us, I begin to walk and she follows me. Leaving my hands still tucked safely into my pockets, she stands in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture.

  Hanging her head, her hair falls around the sides of her face acting as a veil when she says, “You wanted to talk to me, so talk.”

  Snapping my eyes to her, they turn into slits, and now it’s my turn to have the attitude. “What is your problem? Huh? I’ve been nothing but nice to you, so why the attitude?”

  “My problem, well, let’s see…you stared at me all night at the bar; you stared at me in a room full of people today, and you left me a ridiculous tip!”

  “I just thought I was being generous with the tip, and you can’t blame me for staring at you when you’re just as guilty of staring at me. I saw how you looked at me and when our eyes connected, you couldn’t look away. You did everything you could to avoid looking at me. I’ve been nothing but polite to you and I don’t need your attitude. I honestly just wanted your opinion on the seminar, but never mind, I don’t want it now.”

  As I walk away, I feel her hand wrap around my elbow, tugging me back. Looking over my shoulder, I see her head is bowed, and she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  She removes her hand from my elbow, takes a step back from me and looks directly into my eyes as she says, “You’re right. I am guilty of not being able to keep my eyes off you, and I’m sorry for being rude. I don’t know why you left me that large of a tip, but thank you. As far as the seminar went, it was great. I learned a lot, so thank you for that.”

  Nodding, as I try to think of how to respond, I say, “It’s all right. Why the whole attitude towards me though?” I’m intrigued, because I have no idea what I did to piss her off.

  Taking another step back from me, she shakes her head and says, “I don’t know. I really can’t explain it.”

  Confused by her answer, I dig for more of an explanation, “Blake, what can’t you explain?”

  She turns away from me. I can see the tension return to her body as it goes rigid. She says, “I really am very sorry for how I treated you, but I have to go.”

  I have no idea what just happened, but I intend to find out. I watch as she makes her way back over to Dean. I see his lips moving as he hands her bag to her. She shakes her head no about something. Situating her bag on her back, she looks back over her shoulder at me and smiles a sad smile as they exit from behind the stage.

  Hanging my head, I tuck my hands into my pockets and feel like such an ass for talking to her like that. I couldn’t control my irritation. I never thought she would take offense to the tip I left, and I certainly didn’t think she noticed me staring at her at the bar. When I stared at her today, I wanted it to be obvious. I wanted her to notice. Lifting my head and squaring my shoulders in determination, I decide there’s only one solution. I have to see her again.

  Getting into the car, Dean and I throw our things in the back. Pulling out of the parking lot, Dean asks, “What the hell was that back there?” I knew this was coming. While leaving the auditorium, he hadn’t said anything to me after he handed me my bag. Even then, he only asked if I was okay.

  Sighing, “That back there was nothing,” I reply. I know that my answer is evasive, but I honestly don’t want to get into it right now.

  Pulling onto the interstate, he completely ignores my attempt to drop the conversation. Continuing, he adds, “That was nothing? You were a complete bitch to him.”

  Shock engulfs me as my jaw drops and my eyes widen. Slowly turning my head to look at him, my knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so tight. I cannot believe he just called me a bitch. I can’t even argue his point; he’s right, I was a bitch to Derrick.

  Snapping my attention back to the road, I say, “I know and he called me on it. He didn’t call me a bitch, but he did mention my attitude.” Shrugging my shoulders, I add, “And I said I was sorry.”

  Looking out the window he says, “I didn’t mean to call you a bitch.”

  Not glancing in his direction, I keep my eyes trained on the road.

  The rest of the way home we’re quiet. Only the sounds coming from the radio drown out the silence around us. Pulling up to our apartment, I turn off the car and grab only my purse as I get out. I don’t even wait for Dean as I make my way up the stairs.

  Walking in, I kick off my shoes, toss my keys in my purse and throw it on the floor by the door. Making my way into the kitchen, I pull out all the contents needed to make Dean and myself a club sandwich. I may be pissed at him, but I know he has to be just as hungry as I am. Pouring myself a tall glass of sweet tea to sip while I make our sandwiches, I hear the front door close. Dean enters the kitchen cautiously. “Look Blake, you have every right to be pissed at me.” I can tell by his tone that he’s been beating himself up over this. I’m pissed, but it’s not just because he called me a bitch.

  “You’re right. I’m more upset with myself than anything else. Look, I know I’ll probably never see him again. I apologized and that’s all I can do. I just want to move on from it, okay?”

  Pulling out a chair for me at the table, I set our sandwiches and my tea down. We eat in comfortable silence, now that we’ve said what we both needed to say.

  Day two of the seminar consisted of different professors from the department speaking on the benefits of advertising and marketing. The rest of the week flew by after that.

  Last night at the bar, Dean reminded me that his friend Landon was coming to town this evening. Hearing Dean down the hall helped me remember I need to ask him about a paper we’re writing. Walking into the living room, I skid to an abrupt halt because someone I don’t know is sitting on my couch flipping through a magazine. I gasp, wide eyed from shock, catching his attention, he looks up at me, and I’m met with most amazing pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I just stand there, frozen, in front of him staring, as Dean comes in the room laughing. Taking in my expression, he quickly introduces us. Ghosting his hand between the stranger and me, he says, “Landon, this is Blake, my roommate. Blake, this is Landon.”

  Landon stands up and steps in front of me, causing me to take a step back. Right now, I seriously don’t need another sexy, intoxicating, strange man entering my personal space. He extends a hand to me. I return the gesture and say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I can’t tear my eyes away from his. They aren’t just any blue. No, they’re a clear sky blue color. He’s tall, much taller than I am. Wearing a pair of dark jeans and a grey long-sleeved T-shirt, his clothes can’t conceal the build of his body. Unfortunately for me, his shirt hides what I’m sure is a sculpted stomach and chest. His shoulders are broad, and his sleeves outline the bulge of his biceps. His sandy blond hair is long enough on top, but kept short around his ears and his neck; damn, he’s smokin’ hot! Catching me as my eyes rake up and down his body, his lips turn up into a smirk,
a smirk that says, “I know you like what you see.”

  I quickly pull my hand from his as he gives me a once over and I realize how I’m dressed. I’m standing in my yoga pants and a tank top, my hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of my head, and no make-up. I’m completely mortified. A crimson colored blush covers my face as I look over at Dean, who also has a smirk on his face. Without looking back at Landon, I turn on the balls of my feet and make my escape back to my room. Right before I enter the threshold to my sanctuary, I hear Landon call out to me from down the hall, “It was nice to meet you too, Blake.”

  Shutting the door behind me, I breathe in a sigh of relief. With my back pressed against the door, I look up to the ceiling and whisper to myself, “What have I gotten myself into?” I can’t believe that I agreed to let him stay the night. I shake my head at that thought. What the hell is wrong with me? Dean has just as much a right to have whoever he wants over as I do. We pay the same amount of rent. It’s just for one night. As long as I keep my distance, it’ll all be okay.

  Still looking down the hallway where Blake disappeared, I can’t help the smirk that’s plastered on my face. Looking back over at Dean, who is also wearing a smirk I say, “Dude, she’s hot. Why haven’t you ever introduced us before? We’ve known each other for a few years now, and you’ve never once mentioned that you have this sexy ass roommate living with you.”

  Shrugging, he laughs and says, “Because you don’t have a cold chance in hell with her.”

  Arching a brow, I reply, “Fuck you, man. What makes you think that? By the way she was looking me up and down, I think I’d have a shot.”

  All sense of laughter has gone when I look back at Dean. Arms crossed over his chest and a scowl in place, he says, “Landon, she’s like a sister to me. I’d do anything for her. Blake’s not like other women, all right, so don’t even think about it.”

  Taking in his demeanor, my eyebrows furrow and I can’t help but ask, “What do mean, not like other women?”

  “She’s just not, and that’s all I’m going to say about it,” he replies.

  Walking over to him, I slap him on the shoulder and say, “All right, you got it. I’ll leave it alone.”

  Changing the subject, he asks if I’m staying the whole weekend. Shaking my head no, I say, “Naw…I have a buddy I grew up and went to college with that lives out in Atlantic City. I’m going to head up that way tomorrow sometime and hang out a with him a bit and then head home on Sunday. You should come with me?”

  “Eh…I don’t think so. I have to work and study, but thanks for the offer. What do you want to do tonight?”

  “Why don’t we hang out at the bar you work at? It’s downstairs, right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Rubbing my hands together, I say, “Let’s do that then. Plus, if we get wasted, then we don’t have to worry about driving back.”

  Tapping his forefinger against his temple, sarcastically, he says, “Like most lawyers, you’re overthinking things. You know they make cabs for a reason, don’t ya?”

  “Shut up, dude. I just made partner a couple months back. I’m not about to fuck that up.”

  “Yeah, all right. We can go and grab a bite to eat and then we’ll head down around nine. Let me see if Blake wants to grab a bite with us first. She normally heads in around seven, so I’m not sure if she’ll want to go or not.”

  Watching Dean walk down the hall towards Blake’s room, I can’t help but think about the challenge he just gave me. He told me to leave her alone, and I want to, but now I’m not sure that I can. I still want to know what he meant by, “She’s not like most women.”

  Dressed and ready to go, I wait on Dean and Blake. She agreed to go out to eat with us as long as we left around five-thirty. Digging through the kitchen cabinets, my hands connect with the bottle of golden liquid I was looking for. Jose Cuervo. Pulling it out of the cabinet and setting it on the counter, I open one of the cupboards to see my next victory staring me in the face, shot glasses. Grabbing three of them, I set them next to the tequila. Next, I set off to find a lime. Going through the fridge, I can hear Blake and Dean laughing as they come down the hallway. Just as I find the lime and pull back from the fridge, Blake and Dean come into the kitchen. Holding up the lime, I ask, “Who’s up for a shot?”

  Dean doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just walks over to the bottle and begins pouring. As I begin to cut the lime, I hear Blake clear her throat before she says, “Umm…Landon thanks for letting me join y’all tonight…uh you know for dinner. Dean was telling me how y’all don’t really get to hang out…anyway, thanks.”

  A smirk plays on my face seeing how she stammered through that whole thing. Shrugging my shoulders, I smile a full-blown smile at her and say, “Yeah, no problem. It’s cool.” Shaking my head in confusion, I ask, “Did you just say y’all?” The word is foreign to me as it rolls off my tongue. “Where are you from, because no one around here says that?”

  Begrudgingly she looks at me and says, “Yes I did, and I’m from Florida.”

  Lifting my eyebrows, I say, “The ‘Sunshine State'.” It’s more of a statement than it’s a question as I continue, “What brought you all the way up here?”

  I watch as her eyes shift to Dean and then back to me when she says with uneasiness, “School.”

  Nodding, she steps further into the kitchen but keeps a good amount of distance between us. I try not to let my eyes rake cup and down her body. Damn if she doesn’t look good. Dean hands out the shots while I hand out the lime wedges. Licking the backs of our hands, we then pour salt on the damp spots.

  Raising our glasses, we yell Salud, lick the salt, tip back the shots and suck the limes. I watch as Dean’s face twists with disgust, and Blake bends over coughing, trying to catch her breath. I rush over to her, lightly patting her back. I feel her tense beneath my hand. Leaning down to where I can talk into her ear, I ask if she’s okay. She nods, stands up and steps away from my reach. Not knowing what to make of what just happened, I walk over to Dean, clapping him on the shoulder, and say, “Pussy.”

  Dean and I grab our coats while Blake puts her coat on and grabs her purse. We file out of the apartment with Blake behind us locking up. Making our way down the stairs, we all head over to her car.

  As we pull out of the parking lot, I ask from the backseat behind Blake, “Do you guys have any wing places around here?”

  Sneaking glances at me through the rearview mirror, she thinks I can’t see her—but I do. With a slight grin, I sit and wait for her to look back at me. I wait to catch a glimpse of those big beautiful green eyes. In the midst of my waiting, Dean speaks up, “We have a Wings Haven. Does that sound all right?”

  Snapping out of it, I look to Dean to see him staring at me. Shaking my head, I say, “Oh, yeah that sounds great.” I know he’s caught onto my game. Turning to look out the window, I flick my eyes up to the rearview mirror one last time. When I do, I’m surprised to see a smug grin on Blake’s face staring back at me.

  Pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, we all climb out of Blake’s car, shutting the doors behind us. Dean takes the lead as Blake and I follow him in. Opening the first set of double doors, Dean pulls it open letting me and Blake pass through. I open the second set of doors, waving for Blake to go ahead of me.

  We follow Blake to a booth, where Dean scoots in and Blake hurries in beside him. Having no other option, I take the booth opposite of them, sitting directly across from Blake smiling at her as I do. Stretching my legs out underneath, I purposely tap Blake’s foot. Watching her eyes widen from the contact, a grin pulls at the corners of my lips.

  The restaurant has TVs hanging in the corners broadcasting different sports channels. The atmosphere is typical for any wing spot. People surrounding the bar, guzzling their beers and shouting obscenities at the referees for calling bad plays. Most tables are filled with patrons eating wings, sipping on their beers and conversing about random topics. Sports memorabilia from
different pro football teams scatter across the wood panel walls. The booths and tables are made of dark wood. Salt and pepper shakers sit in the middle of the tables with the menus tucked in between the two.

  Blake, Dean and I all reach for our menus at the same time to find there’s only two. Blake and I have our fingers on the same one. I laugh as she tries to tug it out of my grasp. “Why are you trying to take my menu?” I ask her with a grin on my face teasing her.

  “Your menu? I reached for it first,” she answers, appalled by my question.

  Leaning half way across the table, I crook my finger for her to do the same as I subtly bite down on my Fcbottom lip. As she does, I notice she’s staring at my mouth, and I quietly say, “We can share it if you’d like, because I’m the kind of man who doesn’t give up easily.”

  Shaking her head with a smirk playing on her face she replies just as quietly, “Neither do I. You should just give up now, because I have no interest in,” looking me square in the eyes and then down to her fingers clutching on the menu she continues, “Letting go.”

  Laughing, I sit back in the booth still holding onto the menu, and say, “Well neither do I.”

  Sighing, she says, “All right,” but is cut off when Dean groans and butts in.

  “You two are fucking ridiculous. Just open the damn menu so we can order. Blake, if you don’t want to share with Landon then look at mine,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  Blake and I both look over at a flustered Dean and bust out laughing. Releasing the menu, I let Blake have it. “Here you can look with me,” she says as her eyes dance with humor.

  Opening the menu, she turns it sideways so we can both look over it. Tapping her foot again, I look at her out of the corners of my eyes watching her reaction. I see her lips start to form a hard line as she tries to ignore me. Doing it again, she kicks me in the ankle, hard, causing my knee to jerk and slam into the table rattling the condiments above.