IT WAS COOL, DARK, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, PRIVATE in Clyde Ross’s wine cellar, which was why Tucker Cassidy had brought Laura, his girlfriend, down here.
She’d had a lot to drink today, and when she drank, she got loud.
She was also pissed at him at the moment.
Laura pissed off, drunk, and loud? Not a good combination at the house of the owner of the St. Louis Rivers. Clyde Ross was his boss, and the last thing he needed was his girlfriend making a scene. He had enough of a bad-boy image without Laura making things worse by screaming at him in the middle of Clyde’s very nice backyard garden.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Tucker. We’re moving in together.”
Yeah that so wasn’t happening. “We can talk about this when I take you home tonight, Laura.”
He’d brought her to the wine cellar in the hopes of cooling her down. Plus, they were alone here and no one could hear them. Okay, mainly Laura, who had a tendency to get on a roll once she had a topic in mind she wanted to discuss.
“We’ve been dating two whole months, Tucker. Don’t you think it’s time we make it official?”
It had been the most awful two whole months of his entire life. Okay, maybe not at the beginning. Laura was a knockout. Tall, with long dark hair and curves that just didn’t quit and the best ass he’d ever seen. She was a cocktail waitress and they’d met one night when he’d been having drinks in the bar where she worked. They hit it off right away and had gone out, had a night of hot sex, and had started dating. She’d been fun, adventurous, great in the sack, and they had a lot in common.
Plus, she liked baseball, and he played for the Rivers. Not that it was a deal breaker if a woman he dated wasn’t a baseball fan, but it didn’t hurt. She’d come to his games and she actually knew the game, as opposed to other women he’d dated who claimed to know the game but in fact didn’t know balls from strikes or a curve from a fastball. In his mind, that was a goddamned crime.
But as the weeks progressed, he’d noticed she didn’t hold her liquor well, and when she drank, she was not a fun drunk. She was loud, obnoxious, and she insulted his friends. She’d also grown more demanding of his time. Whenever they weren’t together, she wanted to know where he was and how soon he was coming over. He didn’t need a mother—he had a pretty great one already.
And now the past few times they’d been together she’d thrown down hints about the two of them moving in together. He was so not ready for that.
So now he had to redirect her and calm her down before things got out of hand.
“How about we check out Clyde’s awesome wine collection?”
She pushed at his chest. “I don’t give a shit about Clyde or his wine. I want you to make a commitment to me.”
He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to do this here, but she hadn’t left him much of a choice. “That’s not gonna happen. We’ve only been dating two months and I’m not ready to live together.”
She poked at his chest. “You know what? You’re a sonofabitch. I thought we were heading somewhere. You led me to believe—”
He was going to have to stop her there. “I never made promises to you, Laura.”
And now the tears. He’d seen a lot of those lately, too. Especially when she’d been drinking.
“I thought we were in love.”
“I never said that, either.”
She broke down then and sobbed.
Well, shit. He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know how a woman could be so drunk, yet so accurate, but her knee hit his crotch at just the right angle, and he went down like a fighter getting a perfect punch.
Lights out. Only instead of a hit to his jaw, she’d KO’d him right in the balls.
“You’re an asshole. We’re done, Tucker. I’m out of here. I’ll call a taxi to take me home.”
He heard the click of her heels on the stone floor as she walked away.
He couldn’t even breathe, let alone care that she’d just fucking left him on the ground.
Jesus Christ, that had hurt. His balls throbbed like someone had— Well, someone had shoved a knee into them.
He lay there for what seemed like hours, but he knew it was only minutes before he managed to stagger to his knees. He found the wall, still struggling to catch his breath.
In a minute. He’d be able to stand in just a minute.
“Oh, my God. Are you okay?”
He heard a female voice.
Great. Just what he needed. A witness to his humiliation.
Then cool, soft hands swept across his forehead.
“Are you hurt? Did you fall?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. You’re practically hyperventilating. Tell me what happened.”
His eyes were still closed and he was concentrating all his effort on trying to determine if his balls were still attached to his body. He did not want some female being nice to him.