men on her way to the
bar and we all stare as she flags down the bartender to order a
glass of red wine. She's wearing a sleeveless, very short, very
tight, very low-cut navy dress that leaves little to the
imagination. Her body is killer. Her legs are long, lean, and tan,
and the muscle definition in her arms is impressive. She has to be
a trainer or a trophy wife, because no one spends that much time in
the gym and still leads a normal life—not even me. Although the
dress is provocative, she pulls it off without looking like a
complete whore—just a little whorish. She wore the dress to get
attention, and that's just what she's getting from our group of
men.
As the blonde infiltrator waits for her
drink order, she turns around, placing both elbows on the bar. The
action juts out her ample breasts. Those things can't be real, right? I mean,
you can't have such huge tits and still be that perky. Maybe if I
just rubbed against her...
The blonde smiles, knowing that the men
are now watching her—or more specifically, her cleavage. “Whatcha
celebrating, boys?” she asks, tucking a strand of her long blonde
hair behind her ear and seductively licking her bottom
lip.
I smile and slam my hand on Travis's
shoulder, gripping it tight. “My buddy here is getting married.
We're here mourning the loss of his singlehood,” I explain, lifting
my glass. The rest of the guys raise their glasses too and we all
take a drink.
“ Trav, another drink?” I ask.
“ Keep ' em coming,
Owen, ” Travis answers,
smiling back at me.
I'll never admit it, but I'm genuinely
happy for Travis. He had a tough childhood, spending a lot of time
at my house while we were young and even more so when we got into
high school. Hell, he had his own room at my parents' house since
he was over so often. Travis's mom had a gambling problem mixed
with an alcohol addiction, and his dad was a workaholic trying to
make up for his wife's “problems.” My parents stepped in when his
parents failed, encouraging him in his academics, and since we
played football together, they were there for the games
too.
Travis came into his own when he went to
the University of Washington and I to UCLA, both of us on football
scholarships. We always stayed in regular contact through school,
talking about everything from our asshole roommates to
relationships to financial decisions. When my dad was diagnosed
with cancer, he was the first person I called. And when Dad died a
few short months later, Travis was at my door within forty-eight
hours.
When I met his bride-to-be, Lucy, for the
first time, I knew she was different because Travis was different.
She had changed him for the better and could handle his ornery ass.
She's a keeper and Travis is damn lucky to have found
her.
I lean around our female party crasher and
grab our drinks from the bar. The woman looks up to me, her face
close to my chest. Did she just smell me?
“ So, Owen ”—she calls me by my name—“don't break my heart
and tell me you're married. Tell me you're up for a little…fun,”
she asks boldly as she looks up at me through her
eyelashes.
I smile warmly at her and grab my two
fresh beers along with the maneater's wine, handing her glass to
her. “I am not married,” I reply matter-of-factly. “And since you
know my name, what's yours?” I squeeze my hand between us for a
formal introduction.
“ Monica. And it is very nice to meet you,
Owen,” she says, taking my hand and wrapping her fingers around
mine. Monica lifts her glass in a toast. “To a memorable
evening.”
I nod my head and touch my glass to hers.
I have zero interest in Monica. She's pretty to look at and the
guys are getting an eyeful every time she bends over in laughter at
one of their jokes, but I'm distracted—and it's not by Monica. It's
no coincidence that I had the guys meet up with me here at The
Fairmont Olympic to kick off our weekend. Olivia's staying at this
hotel for her conference and I have to—no,
bar and we all stare as she flags down the bartender to order a
glass of red wine. She's wearing a sleeveless, very short, very
tight, very low-cut navy dress that leaves little to the
imagination. Her body is killer. Her legs are long, lean, and tan,
and the muscle definition in her arms is impressive. She has to be
a trainer or a trophy wife, because no one spends that much time in
the gym and still leads a normal life—not even me. Although the
dress is provocative, she pulls it off without looking like a
complete whore—just a little whorish. She wore the dress to get
attention, and that's just what she's getting from our group of
men.
As the blonde infiltrator waits for her
drink order, she turns around, placing both elbows on the bar. The
action juts out her ample breasts. Those things can't be real, right? I mean,
you can't have such huge tits and still be that perky. Maybe if I
just rubbed against her...
The blonde smiles, knowing that the men
are now watching her—or more specifically, her cleavage. “Whatcha
celebrating, boys?” she asks, tucking a strand of her long blonde
hair behind her ear and seductively licking her bottom
lip.
I smile and slam my hand on Travis's
shoulder, gripping it tight. “My buddy here is getting married.
We're here mourning the loss of his singlehood,” I explain, lifting
my glass. The rest of the guys raise their glasses too and we all
take a drink.
“ Trav, another drink?” I ask.
“ Keep ' em coming,
Owen, ” Travis answers,
smiling back at me.
I'll never admit it, but I'm genuinely
happy for Travis. He had a tough childhood, spending a lot of time
at my house while we were young and even more so when we got into
high school. Hell, he had his own room at my parents' house since
he was over so often. Travis's mom had a gambling problem mixed
with an alcohol addiction, and his dad was a workaholic trying to
make up for his wife's “problems.” My parents stepped in when his
parents failed, encouraging him in his academics, and since we
played football together, they were there for the games
too.
Travis came into his own when he went to
the University of Washington and I to UCLA, both of us on football
scholarships. We always stayed in regular contact through school,
talking about everything from our asshole roommates to
relationships to financial decisions. When my dad was diagnosed
with cancer, he was the first person I called. And when Dad died a
few short months later, Travis was at my door within forty-eight
hours.
When I met his bride-to-be, Lucy, for the
first time, I knew she was different because Travis was different.
She had changed him for the better and could handle his ornery ass.
She's a keeper and Travis is damn lucky to have found
her.
I lean around our female party crasher and
grab our drinks from the bar. The woman looks up to me, her face
close to my chest. Did she just smell me?
“ So, Owen ”—she calls me by my name—“don't break my heart
and tell me you're married. Tell me you're up for a little…fun,”
she asks boldly as she looks up at me through her
eyelashes.
I smile warmly at her and grab my two
fresh beers along with the maneater's wine, handing her glass to
her. “I am not married,” I reply matter-of-factly. “And since you
know my name, what's yours?” I squeeze my hand between us for a
formal introduction.
“ Monica. And it is very nice to meet you,
Owen,” she says, taking my hand and wrapping her fingers around
mine. Monica lifts her glass in a toast. “To a memorable
evening.”
I nod my head and touch my glass to hers.
I have zero interest in Monica. She's pretty to look at and the
guys are getting an eyeful every time she bends over in laughter at
one of their jokes, but I'm distracted—and it's not by Monica. It's
no coincidence that I had the guys meet up with me here at The
Fairmont Olympic to kick off our weekend. Olivia's staying at this
hotel for her conference and I have to—no,
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