Page 20 of The Hard Hitter
He nods, unlocks the door—and when we exit, we find a lineup of women.
“Oh,” some blonde girl says to Zander. “I didn’t realize you were in there.” The girl shifts her gaze to me and gives me a once-over.
Yeah, okay, I get it. I don’t look like her. Bleached blonde and rail thin. I like to have a sandwich or a microwave dinner every now and then. I’m guessing I’m not Zander’s regular type, but from the way he just took me in the bathroom, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with that. Still, I can’t help but wonder about the attraction between us. He said he’s not about to bring a woman into Daisy’s life. Since I’m not his normal type, maybe he’s not worried he’s going to fall for me
That thought shouldn’t bother me. I mean, I don’t want more either.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the pool table.
“Sam, what happened to you? I was about to send out a search party,” Quinn says and pulls me in for a hug. I hug her back and when we break apart, her head is cocked, her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say and rake my hand through my hair.
“We were just discussing Daisy,” Zander fibs. “Let’s play pairs.” He turns his attention to the table, and I don’t miss the exchange between him and Jonah. I’ve met Quinn’s husband a time or two in passing but I don’t really know him.
“Hey Sam,” Quinn begins. “Zander told me you made the best cherry pie he’s ever tasted.” She crinkles her nose in distaste. “I prefer my cherries fresh. I don’t love them cooked.”
“I’ll take my cherries any way I get them,” Zander says, his gaze flashing to mine, and I get the sense we’re not really talking about pie or food anymore.
Jonah racks the balls, and he has a smirk on his face like he knows exactly what went down in the bathroom. Oh, God, just thinking about Zander going down is doing the most ridiculous things to my body. It’s been over a year since I had sex, and my damn body is letting me know that Zander is the best thing that’s ever happened to it.
I step around Quinn, who is watching me carefully, and grab a cue. The guys flip a coin, and Zander breaks the balls. “We’re high,” he says to me. He’s not wrong. I’m still flying high after that incredible orgasm from minutes ago.
“Wine?” Zander asks as he steps up to me.
“No, I’ll have what you’re all having.”
He gestures the waitress to bring another round, and I accept the bottle.
“Cheers,” Zander says, heat in his eyes as we clink bottles.
His throat works as he swallows, and I can’t seem to take my eye off his hands, or stop thinking about the way he touched me. Good God, he’s turning me into a nymphomaniac. For a second I think about introducing him to my dad, who is a big hockey fan. He’d love that, but I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea about us.
My turn comes around, and naturally I miss the shot. I never spent much time in pool halls growing up. We play a bit longer, and Zander wins the game for us.
“I wasn’t much help,” I say, and his hand brushes mine. Little sparks of electricity dance along my nerve endings and settle deep between my legs. Jonah sets the balls up again, and this time the guys play, leaving Quinn and I to chat.
We move back from the table and slide onto the plush stools. “So have you checked out the server, Todd?”
Todd.
I remember the disdain in his voice when Zander mentioned the setup. “I haven’t really had a chance,” I say. “Besides, I told you. I’m off men and not interested in a relationship. I have a business to concentrate on.”
“Oh, come on. You’re young and deserve some fun, and who said anything about a relationship? Sex is sex, Sam. A vibrator can only do so much.”
Truth. And now I’m pretty sure my vibrator isn’t going to cut it anymore.
She waves Todd over, and I inwardly cringe. My gaze shoots to Zander, and I note the way his eyes have gone lethal as the other man approaches. Jonah says something to him, and he tears his gaze away to respond.
“Todd,” Quinn says. “This is my friend Sam that I told you about. Sam, Todd is studying to be an audiologist. He works here part time.”
I glance up at Todd, with his blond hair and blue eyes. He’s tall, like Zander, but he lacks that air of authority, the dominant nature the one they call the Hard Hitter exudes.
Not wanting to be rude, I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Todd. An audiologist. That’s impressive.”
“So is what you do.” He shifts the tray. “What drew you to the field?”
I’m about to give my usual answer, one that has nothing to do with my own speech troubles when younger, but someone from the bar calls out to him.