Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(9)

I follow my curiosity and head after him.

Parked seven feet away from the restaurant entrance is a vintage yellow Hummer. I can’t see past the tinted windows but the passenger door flings open and T-Rex waits for me inside, behind the wheel.

I climb in, and then I slam the door shut and glare. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?” I narrow my eyes.

He narrows his eyes mockingly back at me. “Why? Do you need following?”

He looks boyish in those clothes, with a day’s scruff on his jaw, a light smile.

But the smile doesn’t last long.

Pretty soon he’s frowning at me again. I swear this man smiles at everyone but me.

“Is he one of the club?” His voice sounds full of annoyance.

“My one-night stand club is very exclusive, so no, not yet. But he’s hard for it; that counts for something.”

“Does it?” He still sounds annoyed.

“It’s a requisite for being in the club.”

His eyebrows rise. “Don’t be silly, Gina, he couldn’t get it up with a tow truck pulling it.”

“Don’t be jealous, T-Rex, you had your chance, and you declined. Which is good though. I’d drunk too much Benadryl, allergies and stuff. And it makes me woozy,” I lie. “But we don’t really want to fool around—we’d have to look at each other when we’re done, at all of Saint and Rachel’s events. I’ve got enough awkward with my hair.”

He looks at my hair, and I instantly drop my hand from the top of my head and become so self-aware and nervous. I’m not the type of girl to get nervous. But then he’s not the type of guy I’m used to. He’s like nothing I’m used to.

I end up studying him while he studies me.

“What’s with the scruff?” I point at the dark blond shadow on his tan jaw.

“Letting it grow until we win.” He sighs drearily and scrapes a hand over his stubbled jaw.

“Then I’m glad I haven’t gone there just to see you lose.”

“Gina Gina Gina.” He releases a cocky laugh that almost shakes the car. “If you came, we wouldn’t lose.”

“Your pride would save your losing team?”

“No, you would.”

I’m briefly taken aback by the comment then I make a brisk effort to dismiss it.

“So is lacrosse like your hobby?” I ask.

The frown is back again, his blue eyes laughingly incredulous. “Hobby? Lacrosse is my art. The fastest-growing sport in America. You’ll understand when you go.”

“Whatever.” I kick his heel, and he kicks me back.

“So what, are you taking him home tonight?” he asks.

“I don’t know, maybe.” I shrug and glance out the window. “But if you keep me here, he won’t even want to come.”

“You’re the one he won’t know how to make come.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll leave you all strung up and wanting it,” he says laughingly.

“Excuse me?!”

I kick him again, twice, and the third time he frowns and says, “Ouch,” rubbing his heel. “Play nice, Regina,” he chides.

“Well, this has been nice, but my prince charming awaits.” I almost laugh at my own exaggeration. His voice stops me.

“You taking him home or not?”

I turn and stare at him.

I don’t want to lie and say a definitive no, but I also find the idea of him thinking that other men find me attractive very appealing. “I don’t know,” I hedge again.

He reaches out and curls his hand around my upper arm. “Then I don’t know how I’ll manage to unwrap my hand from your—”

“Probably yes,” I cry. “Yes! Go bother your f*ck-friends. Go show them your lacrosse stick.”

“The long one or the short one?”

I shove him, and he reaches over me, opens the door and rumples my hair. “You’re too gorgeous for him, Regina.”

“And you’re full of it.”

“I can tell he’s a loser.”

“I met him at your party, so…” I leave it at that.

He stops me again. “Hey. We’re friends. Right?”

I force myself to meet his intense blue gaze. “Yes.”

“We’re good?” A muscle flexes along his jaw as he waits for my reply.

“We’re good.”

He grins, a devastating grin. “Good. Cause I don’t want to hurt you. Alright?” His eyes are raw, clawing into me with some fierce emotion. “You need a guy who will always be there for you. One who will never let you down.”

“I know.” But where is he? I wonder. “And you need a thousand women to make you feel good, and I’m only one.”

He laughs. “Friends then.” He kisses my cheek. “You better come to my next game.”

He pats the back of my head as I turn to go back inside. My heart hurting. Then I watch him head to his table. Please don’t appear in my stupid dreams tonight, I think as I take my seat.

I think of having no one to talk to about this tonight when I go to my apartment. No one will be there. Rachel and I used to pass the Kleenex to each other whenever life threw us a curveball, when life threw me Paul and when Rachel nearly lost Saint.