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That meant a girls’ night, with an occasional, mostly harmless conversation with Liam. Then I’d head straight home to have a date with a scalding hot bath and my Kindle.
“C’mon. It’s on me.” He waved at the bar and held out a hand like he was ready to guide me to it. “Haven’t seen Marigold Harper in nearly twenty years—”
“Wells,” a deep voice rumbled behind me as a solid chest hit my back. His familiar scent washed over me, sending electricity arcing through my body. When he draped an arm over my shoulder, a shudder rippled down my spine. “Her last name is Wells.”
My cheeks burned bright at the accusation. Liam clearly wanted this guy to think we were together. Which was comical, given our current situationship. Nevertheless, he was rubbing small circles on my shoulder, light traces barely tickling my skin, and I wasn’t mentally equipped to put a stop to it.
“Oh, my bad, brother.” Jared took a step back, and some of the color drained from his face. Quickly, though, he donned that golden retriever smile again and stuck out a hand. Liam stared at it but made no attempt to accept the gesture, keeping his arm around me until Jared took the hint and dropped his hand. “Didn’t know she was married.” He wiped his palms on his pants. “Just wanted to say hey to an old friend. You guys enjoy your night.” He nodded my way like a true gentleman. “Good seeing you.”
It was a real shame the whole Prince Charming thing had never done it for me. No, apparently, I was more attracted to the beast.
Part of me wanted to slap Liam for his caveman behavior. He had no right going around acting like we were still married just because we still shared a last name. But this other part, this really big, uncontrollable part, enjoyed knowing that Liam cared enough to butt in like that. With his chest pressed into my back and his arm draping over my shoulder and everything.
Jared wandered back to his friends. They all looked very lovely, but I was incredibly grateful that I didn’t have to go do the whole introduction thing when I hardly knew the man himself. I turned on my heel to face Liam, snagging on the sight of my friends in the process. The crazies were actively fanning themselves and giving me giant grins and exaggerated thumbs-ups. For now, I threw them and their ridiculousness in the deal with later portion of my brain.
Arm still wrapped around me, Liam shot me that wolfish grin I was growing more fond of each time I saw it. His cap was turned backward, and he still had that scruffy beard. Add in that mischievous expression, and the combination was practically an aphrodisiac itself. The bonus he tossed in along with it? The white T-shirt he was wearing. It was emblazoned with the FC Storm’s logo on the front. On the back, the boys had written Wells in their adorably sloppy handwriting.
This shirt was one I’d never forget. During one practice, another mom had passed out the parents’ shirts, and Liam had changed into his in front of everyone. Clearly, he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious about his body. For good reason. Several moms drooled.
At the end of practice, the boys had run up to him, gushing about how much they liked his shirt. When Dallas suggested they sign it like a real soccer jersey, I fully expected Liam to turn him down or shrug him off, but I should have known better. No, the man tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. Then he asked the coach for a Sharpie and crouched low so the boys could sign away. When he stood, his back was to me. Seeing Wells written out between his shoulder blades, along with two scraggly signatures below it and the boys’ jersey numbers, had done strange things to my heart.
He’d earned a lot of brownie points that day.
I cleared my throat and peered up at Liam in that freaking hat. He had no business looking this good, especially when I’d been fighting what Mama B would call my feminine urges for nearly seven years. I was reaching a breaking point.
“You’re welcome.” He smirked down at me.
For the backward hat or for the whole macho-man rescue mission he’d performed in front of all of our friends? Probably the latter, although it wouldn’t surprise me if he knew exactly what this look was doing to my insides.
“I didn’t exactly tell you I needed rescuing.” I crossed my arms and took a step back.
He shrugged and released his hold on my shoulder.
Instantly, I missed his warm touch, and I nearly asked him to touch me again.
“Didn’t have to. I can tell when you’re done with a conversation.”
I quirked a brow and let one side of my mouth tip up. How would he know that? I opened my mouth to ask, but he cut me off.
“That look you were giving him? It’s the same one you give me when you want me to shut up. You look at me like that all the time.”
I laughed, head thrown back and chest shaking. He absolutely would know. But if that had been him, he would have ignored every hint I threw his way.
“Am I giving you that look right now?” I tipped my chin up, surveying his strong brow, his dark eyes, the scruffy beard I wanted to rake my fingers through. Then I took in his lips. The lips that haunted me almost every night as I wondered whether I was remembering incorrectly. Was he really an exceptional kisser? Because that talent stuck out in my mind. But it had been so long that I was half certain I’d made it up.
He scoffed and shook his head. “Nah, you’re giving me a whole different look right now.”
I caught my lip between my teeth to keep my smile at bay, but dang it, he was getting to me. He always had.
I was ready to spit fire at him, because as much as I complained, sparring with him energized me. But a buzzing interrupted me, a loud, obnoxious buzzing that felt like nails on a chalkboard, instantly killing the moment. He winced and closed his eyes. With a deep sigh, he picked his phone up off the bar.
He paused for a second, looking at the device, then he looked back at me like he was considering whether to tell me who it was. Curious, I tilted my head, eyes lowering.
“It’s my mom.” He answered my unasked question, immediately stirring up ten thousand more.
“Hey, what’s up?” His tone was casual, but there was just a pinch of anxiety there. The same anxiety now coursing through me.
He nodded, picking at his phone case with his thumb as if it were a nervous tic. “Okay, okay. Yeah, we’ll head right there.”
