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“We invited you to play, but you wouldn’t.” He stood grinning in his blue T-shirt, jeans that hugged his perfect ass just right, and navy bowling shoes. His dark hair was swept into a messy man ponytail along the nape of his neck.
He was dark. Sometimes sad, mysterious, and ominous. Why did he choose to become an underground MMA fighter?
“I didn’t want to hear you two bicker about girls the entire day.”
He rolled his eyes. “Grab your ball. I’ll help you with your form.”
We walked to the edge of the lane. Zander positioned my arm. His woodsy cologne tingled under my nose and made my core heat. I glanced over my shoulder and pecked his lips.
His hand swept across my waist. “Throw the ball, Vicky.” He winked.
I stepped back then ran toward the lane and released the ball. The ball rolled against the loud wooden surface crushing the pins.
“Yes!” I jumped in the air and yelled.
“See, fun.”
I nodded.
~
Sitting in the Lenox Mall parking lot behind the steering wheel, I scanned my surroundings. The air was on full blast. It was already eighty degrees at ten in the morning. The sun beat against the hood of my car.
Tap, tap.
My head swung back to the window. Fuck! He was walking sexiness. His hair was pulled into a man bun. His dreamy blue eyes peered into mine. A sneaky smile curled his lips. My fingers tingled. Running my fingers along his thick brow over his lightweight beard consumed my thoughts. His pink lips stood out. The lower lip had a slight bend, begging for my tongue to slide underneath.
“Vicky, Vicky.” He grabbed the door handle. “Unlock the door.”
I pressed the button. He opened my door. “Are you ok?”
I stood before him.
“Tell me you didn’t change your mind.” Concern loomed his face.
I smirked. “No.”
Zander swayed my hip. Shit, my skin was on fire. That’s what his touch did to me. Set my skin on fire. Vicky, skydiving.
“A little nervous to sky dive.”
He chuckled flashing those perfect white teeth.
Zander opened his passenger door. “Climb in.”
I hopped into his truck. He closed my door, walked around, and slid behind the steering wheel. “I know what you want to listen to.”
“Zander, it’s not impressive you know what I like because you’ve lived with us.”
“Yeah, yeah. There is a satellite station dedicated to one particular band. You play them more than any other artist.” He turned onto the highway.
My eyes lit up. “Not Maroon five?”
He smiled and nodded. Zander tapped the radio button. ‘Move like Jagger’ blared through the speakers.
“Yes!” I shouted.
“One brownie point for you.”
