Hookup Master Read online

  I don’t say anything, though. Maybe she only came in to grab something, but I highly doubt it.

  The swish of the glass shower door opening tells me I’m right.

  Alexis stands in front of it, her arms crossed, ogling me. “Mmmm, you look tasty. Have you been going to the gym?”

  I rinse out the shampoo, and turn off the water. “You know I go to the gym. Mind handing me a towel?” She’s blocking my exit, and beginning to piss me off.

  Alexis stares at my dick, which is still dormant. No movement. None. And I can tell by the look on her face she’d like to do something about that.

  “The towel, Alexis.”

  She rolls her eyes and hands it to me, stepping out of the way just enough for me to get past her while still grazing her body.

  I ignore her presence and dress quickly. “Thanks for the shower. I better get going.”

  Alexis follows me out of the bathroom. “That’s all? You’re really not going to stay? Zach, you know I can take care of you and help you relax.” She smiles and glances at my crotch.

  I don’t want what we’ve had anymore. And it’s never been more apparent than tonight, with Nessa seeing me and Alexis together, and how dirty I feel right now. But I need to tell Alexis it’s over someplace else, someplace where I’m on equal footing. Not inside this damn suite that makes me feel weak and filthy, and reminds me of every time we’ve ever been together.

  “Not tonight.”

  The first thing I see when I exit the elevator after leaving Alexis’s hotel room is Nessa walking up to some dude wearing a Chargers cap and flip-flops. Nessa’s in tight black jeans that mold to her perfect curves, and a long-sleeved tee, a sweatshirt tucked in the crook of her arm. It’s the end of spring, beginning of summer, and warm during the day, but the nights are still chilly.

  “All set?” I hear the guy ask her as I near.

  Nessa looks up and our gazes lock. At first she appears surprised, then her smooth throat bobs in a swallow, eyes flittering away for a second. She looks back and gives me a tight smile.

  My gut knots. For a moment, I wonder if she knows where I came from. Or more importantly, who. But no one knows about me and Alexis, not even my best friends. Nessa did see Alexis hand me the keycard, which was damning…

  Panic tightens my chest. No fucking way I want my friends aware of the truth, and especially not Nessa.

  As I skim her pretty face to read what she may or may not be thinking, I notice again the guy standing next to her. Stifling the urge to reach for her and jerk her to my side, I say, “What’s up?”

  She introduces me to her friend, and I barely register his name. I’m too busy tracking the subtle flicker of her dark brown eyes, the tightening of her mouth. She won’t look at me.

  “Sal and I were just leaving for Farley’s.” Her voice is flat, cold. And totally not like her.

  Even if she suspects something with Alexis, why the cold shoulder? Nessa knows I date around. And who is this guy, really? She’s not starting to see him, is she? Things have been great with Nessa hanging out with my friends and me. Why does she need this guy?

  “Wait up,” I say. “I’ll join you.”

  Her friend seems okay with me inviting myself, or else he’s hiding it with a good poker face. But Nessa’s gaze narrows, finally taking me in. I ignore the flare of anger I see there. She’s more pissed than the dude I cock-blocked, and I honestly don’t give a shit. Nessa is pint-sized, and I don’t know this guy. No way am I letting her walk out the door with him.

  I pull her to the side before she can refuse me. “I don’t think you should leave with him.”

  “Sal’s harmless.”

  “No guy is harmless.”

  “Some guys are. You’re harmless.”

  “Not even me.”

  Her head notches back. I hadn’t planned on saying that, but it’s true. Given how messed up my life is, I’ve never been a safe guy for Nessa. Which is why I make sure we’re friends and nothing more.

  She seems to shake off my words. “Fine, whatever—let’s go.”

  We walk through the crowd on the strip and make our way to Farley’s. The place is packed when we enter, but the group Nessa and Sal are meeting up with quickly flags us down and buys a round of shots. I take that moment to let the tension from my run-in with Alexis roll off my shoulders. I need to do something about her. End it once and for all.

  I get the next round of drinks, and we line up at the indoor Cornhole. Best name ever.

  Sal—I’m reminded when I call him by the wrong name—hands Nessa and me four small sandbags. “You’re up, Ness. Let’s see whatcha got.”

  His familiarity with her grates on me. Who the hell is he? Seems like a typical Tahoe clinger. Why would she be interested in him?

  Nessa sets her drink on the table beside us and lines up a shot, eyeballing the illuminated neon-green hole. The rest of the court is decorated with dusty holiday lights.

  She tosses the sandbag into the air and it falls short, straddling the edge of the box.

  “Little low there, Pipsqueak,” I say, a smile in my voice.

  Nessa’s shoulders stiffen, and she glares at me.

  I raise a brow at her. “Doth my presence irritate?” She faces forward again.

  Hmm, a little touchy tonight.

  I step up to take my shot. Nessa’s on Sal’s team. I guess because she’s with him. Not with him-with him, but you know, she came here with him. And me—she came with me too. Okay, I invited myself.

  Jesus, I hope she’s not thinking of dating this guy. I’ve gotten used to not having to worry about Nessa. As a brother—worried like a brother would be. And if I have a strong attraction to the sweet, gorgeous brunette who hangs out with me and my friends, that’s my secret.

  I better at least get it on the board after I razzed Nessa for her shot. I let the sandbag fly and it lands on the edge of the hole.

  Our teammates take their turns and we’re even by the end of the round.

  Nessa’s up, and this time, she slides the bag home, her petite, curvy hips doing a little swish in victory.

  She turns and smiles. “Sorry, didn’t I mention I was a pitcher in high school?” Her partner walks over to congratulate her, and she high-fives him.

  Damn, what’s going on with her tonight? “Didn’t know you played softball,” I say when she returns to my side. “How long?”

  “Six years. I played in junior high as well.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.”

  “Is it?”

  “Kind of. What other talents are you hiding?”

  Her light olive complexion turns rosy. “Nothing you’re ever going to know about.”

  “Ouch,” I say, but immediately my mind wanders. To topics I try not to think about when it comes to this girl. It damn well isn’t easy, because just looking at her has me thinking of… things… hot, sweaty, naked things. With my things inside her things, my mouth on… Stop!

  Time for a subject change. “What’s up, Ness? You seem angry tonight.”

  She looks away, staring ahead as she answers. “Why were you coming from the Blue hotel elevators earlier, Zach?”

  Which really isn’t an answer, but a question.

  My chest burns, and I feel my face flaming—not in embarrassment, but anger. With myself, for continuing something I should have put a stop to years ago.

  “Does it matter?”

  She looks me square in the eye. “Yes.”

  Hurt and sorrow fill her eyes—as if she knows what I’m not saying. Knows what I’ve hidden from everyone. It shocks and undoes me.

  She can’t know.

  “I’m up.” I avoid her question, because I don’t want to tell her the truth, but I won’t lie to her either.

  I prepare for my toss. The guys on the other side are chatting and drinking their beers. They don’t seem to mind that we’ve stopped in mid-game to talk about something I have every intention of avoiding.

  “Who is she, Zach?” Nessa persis
ts. “Why does she come every month? Why do you go with her?” Nessa’s voice is soft, pained.

  I swallow hard. Fuck. I’m not hiding anything. And why is Nessa so upset by it?

  It’s one thing for me to be unhappy with my arrangement with Alexis. It’s another to see Nessa hurt by it.

  “She’s no one, Pipsqueak.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  The discussion across from us halts. The guys stare at Nessa. I do too, taking in the heaving of her chest, the flare in her eyes. Whoa. Never seen Nessa like this before.

  I grab the sandbags from her hands and set them on the table, pulling her to the side. “What’s up?”

  She looks away. “I hate that nickname.”

  “Got it. No more Pip—” She shoots me a glare. “No more using that nickname. But I don’t get what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is that you treat me like a child. I’m an adult—only a year and a half younger than you. We’re friends, but you don’t need to rub in the fact that you don’t see me as a woman.”

  What’s she talking about? “I know you’re a woman.” God, do I know. I try to forget it every single day.

  Nessa deserves a better dude than me. Someone better than the guys she’s hanging with tonight too.

  She tucks her long, dark hair behind her ear, the floral and orange scent she wears wafting over, sending my senses into overdrive. “I know you have something going on with her. There’s something not right about it… but I’m done trying to figure you out.”

  My head pounds. That last shot is messing with my ability to think clearly.

  I’m not hiding this from anyone. Or maybe Nessa is the only person perceptive enough to have figured it out.

  I’m ashamed, but mostly the fact that Nessa has puzzled out the truth is a game changer. I can’t do it anymore—can’t stand the idea that my sordid relationship with Alexis is hurting Nessa. I was already going to end it, but I want it over this minute. I wish I had told Alexis before I left the hotel room instead of waiting to do it somewhere else.

  Sal walks up. He glances from me to Nessa, a concerned look on his face before he smiles at her. “Hey, why don’t we take a break? Can I get you another drink? What about you, Zach?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I let out a sigh and inch closer to Nessa.

  I’m not worried about her with these guys. They seem decent, and they haven’t driven hard to get her attention. That’s not why I feel the need to hover. I sense her slipping away, and the notion makes me want to rip the cheap wood paneling off the walls of this joint.

  I don’t deserve her, but the thought of losing her makes me crazy.

  “Here you go.” Sal returns and hands Nessa what looks like a screwdriver. He passes me another pint of beer. “The guys and I were just talking about the lack of food variety around here. What do you think, Ness? Any good Filipino restaurants nearby?”

  He’s trying to lighten the mood, and I don’t blame him. The tension is so thick it’s choking.

  Nessa looks distracted for a moment, then says, “Sure, there are a couple of places.” She rattles off the names of restaurants in town I’m familiar with, but have never been to.

  Should I have paid more attention? Nessa’s a mix, like me. But instead of being part Washoe like me and my friends, Nessa’s dad is Filipino, her mother British. I never asked her how her parents met, or why they settled in San Francisco. Never wanted to get that personal. It would have been too easy to cross the line with her from friendship into something more.

  I’ve wanted Nessa from the first moment I met her, but she’s a good girl. And I’m no boy next door.

  “So did your parents hook you up with the good stuff growing up?” Sal asks.

  Nessa’s heritage isn’t that easy to figure out. Her skin is light with olive tones, her hair black, but her face is heart-shaped, almost elfin, and not easy to define as one nationality over another. If Sal knows she’s part Filipino, he must know her well. And that bothers me. Maybe I should worry about this guy.

  Nessa gives him a small smile and shakes her head. “I ate at Filipino restaurants like everyone else. My mom did the cooking. If she was going native, I got bangers and mash and toad-in-the-hole at home. Marmite was a mainstay in our fridge.”

  Sal scrunches his face when Nessa explains what Marmite is. The only reason I’m familiar with the condiment is because I’ve been to Nessa’s place more times than I can count. Of course I’ve scoured her fridge for food. There’s a reason I always cook. I have a fast metabolism. I’m pretty much hungry all the time, and Nessa’s fridge doesn’t escape my pillaging.

  We play a few more rounds of Cornhole, and the tension between me and Nessa eases. She high-fives Sal after sliding her last sandbag home and walks toward me, not smiling, but not scowling either. She stops to take a sip of her drink.

  “Ready to leave?”

  Her lower lip slides into her mouth, as if she’s biting it from the inside. “You go ahead. Don’t let me keep you if there’s someplace you need to be.”

  I don’t like the implication in her tone, or the fact that she thinks I’ll leave here without her. “I should get you home.”

  She spears me with a look. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

  “Course you can. I just figured you were ready to go.” Hoped is more like it.

  Indecision plays on her face, and she looks over at her friends. They’ve divided up the sandbags and are preparing for another game.

  “I guess I am tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “Sure.” I grab her sweatshirt. Her brow furrows—there’s a chance I’m pushing her out the door—but she reaches for her purse and walks over to the guys.

  Sal gives her a hug, and I grind my teeth. He seems like a decent guy. I’m just not used to random dudes touching Nessa. I don’t want her hurt by anyone—including me. And if I’m being honest, the idea of another guy touching her makes me want to crush something.

  We head back silently to Blue Casino, past the sliding glass front doors, and around the side of the building to the parking garage where the employees park. I steer Nessa to my gray four-by-four, and she stops suddenly.

  “My car’s a few rows over. We should part here. Thanks for walking me back. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Whoa.” I shake my head. “You’re not driving home.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nessa, you weigh about a buck, and I just watched you down three drinks. I’m driving. I’ll take you to your car in the morning.”

  “You’ve had as much to drink as I have.”

  “And I weigh almost twice what you do. After two hours at Farley’s, I’m sober as a judge.”

  She glances away as if considering. She can’t argue that logic. “Fine, but I’ll get my roommate to give me a ride in the morning. You don’t need to pick me up.”

  Whatever. As long as she comes home with me… to her place… to be dropped off…Really, I need to find a way to block thoughts of me and Nessa hooking up. Messes with my concentration.

  Can a guy be hypnotized for something like that? The way people are hypnotized to not smoke? I’ll pay whatever price they ask if someone can make me less physically attracted to this girl.

  I could stay away from Nessa, but that’s not an option. That’s a form of torture I’m not strong enough to withstand. I prefer mental agony to total deprivation.

  I open the passenger door of my truck and she climbs in. I enter the driver’s side and try not to notice how good she looks in my truck. Like she belongs. “So what’s your roommate up to tonight?”

  Nessa settles her purse at her feet and buckles herself in. “She’s probably out with her new boyfriend. I haven’t seen her much. She stays at his place most nights.”

  “So you’re alone tonight?” This train of thought isn’t helping. Now I’m thinking about being alone with Nessa at her place.

  “I guess. Why, does it matter?”

  “Doe
sn’t matter. Just wondering.”

  I feel her gaze on me as I pull out of the parking lot and head onto the main road. “So who is she?” she asks.

  Not this again. “Who?”

  “That woman you’re always meeting with.”

  I grip the steering wheel. “I told you. No one important.”

  “She looks important to you.”

  I glance over. Nessa is leaning against the door, her body angled as far away from me as possible, but her expression is intent.

  “She’s not. She’s no one.”

  “I don’t believe that, Zach. You see her at least every month. And those are just the times I’ve witnessed you together. Is she your girlfriend?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then who is she? Some kind of regular hookup?”

  I don’t answer. Because that’s probably a decent description. But also inadequate. What Alexis and I have is far more warped than a hookup.

  “Is that all women are to you?” She stares out the window. “I thought you were different.” Her voice comes out warbly.

  The sense I’m losing her returns. “There’s nothing between her and me, Nessa. Not anymore.”

  Not after tonight, anyway.

  She turns to me. “What does that mean?”

  “I used to see her, but now I’m not. Can we change the subject?” I reach over and flick on the radio. A commercial blares through the speakers, and I punch the buttons to change the station.

  “Why?”

  I fumble with the radio, trying to find something to distract. “Why what?”

  “Why do you do it?”

  Frustrated, I flick off the radio and turn at the green light onto Nessa’s street. “Can you be more specific?” I’m deflecting, avoiding. I really want nothing to do with this conversation. Maybe I should have called Nessa a cab. The two of us alone together does neither of us any good.

  “Put up walls. Do you do it to her too?”

  I pierce Nessa with a glare. “There is nothing remotely similar to what I had with her and what we have.”

  Nessa’s eyes widen. “Right, because we’re only friends.”

  We are more. Or we could be if I’m not careful—if I’m not strong enough. Which I have to be.