Q had me feeling somefeelingsin my nether regions. I was squirming around in my chair like my ass was on fire just from seeing this guy’s back. Which reminded me of one of the most urgent items on my to-do list.
“I need to get laid,” I lamented to my bestie, who concurred with a friendly grunt. “Masturbation, as useful as it’s been, is not going to cut it much longer.”
And, of course, Alba had to get all slimy. “And Mr. New York would do just fine. ‘Fine’ being the operative word—”
I cut off that very detrimental line of thinking before it could take root. The last thing I needed was to start work drama. “This meetup is not for me to find someone to fuck with, Alba. I needfriends, and relationships are off-limitsentirely.”
Alba sucked her teeth but when she spoke, she agreed with me. Kind of. “Did I say ‘relationships’? No, we were talking about fucking. But you’re right, you don’t need to rush into things, friend. This is your time.”
After things fell apart with Matt, I vowed I’d give myself time to get my life back on track, and that meant no dudes complicating things with their issues. I was done with letting men derail my plans. Q and his back would have to be someone else’s problem. No more distractions in sexy packages.
I turned off my laptop and spoke into the phone, already grabbing my purse. “Albita, Imma have to let you go. I have to do something with my hair and face before I hit up this bar, now that the stakes have been raised. Not that I’m doing anything about it. Q can get it, but not from me.”
“Okay, girl, I don’t know who you’re trying to convince.” She lived to push my buttons. I sighed and she blew me a kiss. “Call me when you get home.”
I gave her a tired yes and headed to the bathroom, feeling slightly better about my happy hour plans. At least it seemed like there were some fellow ex-New Yorkers at Sturm’s looking for friends too.
Chapter Four
Julia
I was a ball of nerves as I sat waiting for the rest of the group to show up.
After debating for a few minutes, I’d finally caved and changed into the outfit I’d brought from home. I’d even managed to get my hair to behave and was wearing it down, or more like up and out, since my curls were all over the place.
No matter how much I griped at my mom when I was growing for getting on my case about looking “decent” when I left the house, I had to say some of it had stuck with me. Being the child of an ex-beauty queen had its challenges, and was definitely a big reason for my weekly therapy sessions. But I was grateful to my mother for showing me how to do a smoky eye one-handed and to put together an outfit like a fucking pro. And so far the extra application of deodorant was holding up to all the nervous sweating that was happening. Hashtag “winning.” I knew my OOTD was popping. I was wearing a white crop top with a bomb Ankara skirt one of the buyers from Sturm’s had hooked me up with. And I could not deny that when I stepped out looking like I was killing it, it went a long way to making me feel like I could.
I checked on my skirt and smoothed over the front, trying hard not to stare up at the clock. So what if people didn’t show up? I could still have a nice dinner...by myself. I’d picked a place in Greenville—which I’d dubbed Brooklyn in Dallas—closer to where I lived and I knew a few others lived as well. The place was decorated in what I’d started calling Southern Hipster: a lot of distressed wood, mason jars, and rusted-looking metal, but the ambiance was great and the drinks were cheap. I took another small sip of my Paloma in an effort to pace my drinking so I really didn’t act a fool at this thing. The last thing I wanted was to be drunk by the time my coworkers arrived.
Which only got me thinking about Rocco Fucking Quinn. The bane of my existence. Why did he have to be so sexy? I’d sent him a preliminary plan but he hadn’t responded yet. Just thinking about entire days in confined places with that man made me practically vibrate with anticipation, and not the kind that was appropriate for work-related situations. I turned in my seat, mulling over how I’d make it through meeting after meeting with him, and decided I’d just keep my distance. I was a grown woman, a professional. And just because the line of Rocco Quinn’s jaw was so perfect I could stare at it for days didn’t mean I couldn’t keep it together.
And as if the universe had penciled in extra time to fuck with my life,Qwalked in.
He was looking down at his phone but I recognized the Mets hat from the profile picture. And that chest and those shoulders were imprinted in my thirsty little brain. Shoulders that I was pretty sure were recently covered by a suit jacket and green and gray gingham shirt.
My stomach dropped.
Q was Rocco Fucking Quinn.
How did he even find out about the happy hour?
Drops of sweat were pooling at the small of my back as panic tried to take over. But panic was not the host of this meetup, Julia was. I took three belly breaths and focused on the ground under my feet as I unclenched my hand from the glass before I snapped it. I pasted on a smile as I decided whether to stay in my seat or stand up to meet him.
He looked post-gym fresh in jeans, a light gray tee, and leather flip-flops, and I was close to seeing black dots from holding my breath. I’d never really noticed forearms, but I was literally drooling over his. Had he gotten a haircut in the two hours since I’d seen him or was I just tripping? He had on some wayfarers that he took off as he popped his head up. I raised a hand and waved frantically because I was a straight-up mess. When he spotted me, he did the slightest double take and then, just for a second, he smiled.
Julia del Mar, you’re in danger, girl.
Holy shit, my heart actually slammed against my chest just from getting the full effect of those piercing blue eyes and the little scar that stretched across the top of his lip. Rocco had that lethal combination of boyish good looks and a slight edge. Like he could mow my lawn for me and then walk into the house and do unspeakable things to my body. And good Lord that was not the reel I needed going through my head right now.
Get a fucking grip, Julia.I squeezed my thighs hard and tried to snap out of the trance I was in. I took one breath, then a second, trying to slow down my heart, as I watched him come closer, and that’s when I noticed I wasn’t the only one getting a little hot under the collar. Rocco Quinn had me pinned under his gaze and was taking his sweet time running his eyes over me. Iwastrying to keep it all business, but if he was going to look at me like that, I’d give him angles.
Oh yeah, take it all in, buddy.
When he got to me, I saw that the smile had gotten a little less confident and I wondered if the intense pull I was feeling was getting to him too. Before I lost my nerve, I extended a hand to him and he immediately took it. I was not one to get corny, but I could swear I felt the air sizzle. He was so fine, and the way he looked at me...there was a lot of heat there, the kind that could reduce your self-control to cinders and make you like it.
“Hey, you’re the first one here.”
What happened next was when I knew that Rocco was going to be a very big monkey wrench in my short-, medium-, and long-term plans of staying off the D and focusing on me.
