from under the table and dropped into it. “Why do women go to the bathroom together?”
“Don’t ask me,” Vic said as they left. “I’m having a hard enough time tonight. There’s all kinds of crazy shit going on here. That whole thing with the redhead? You had to hear the conversation at this table. I mean, kill me now.”
“That’s the one I told you about. She’s a flesh-eater.”
Vic leaned into the chair next to Peter. “What’s the story with you and Isabelle? Isabelle, who never lets anyone call her Izzy.”
Where’s this going? Peter and Vic had only discussed a relationship once, during a crisis, and it was Vic’s relationship, not his.
“Nothing to tell. I like her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Peter shrugged. “What?”
Vic scrubbed his fingers across his mouth. “Here’s the thing with Isabelle. She’s a great girl, right? And that body? Unbelievable.”
Oh, shit. No. No. No. Somehow, in the course of the last ten seconds, the world’s largest wave pummeled him. Vic was about to tell him that he’d shagged Izzy.
Peter didn’t want to know. Absolutely not. He’d just work around it, so to speak. But, son of a bitch, he wanted this woman like he wanted his next breath and the thought of her getting it on with Vic would drive him batshit. Vic had found the promised land before him.
He took a breath before he said something stupid. “Did you…” Peter waved his hand in front of him. “You know…with Izzy?”
Where the hell did that come from?
Vic hesitated. “You want to know if I fucked Isabelle?”
Mr. Crude, at his best.
“Actually, no. Whatever you did before Gina is your business.”
Peter picked up a half-filled water glass, probably Izzy’s, and slugged it.
“I thought about it. Once,” Vic said, as if they were discussing what to have for dessert. “I was here on business five years ago—”
Five years ago? Isabelle was twenty-one-years-old five years ago. A goddamned baby.
“She asked me to spar with her,” Vic continued. “We’re alone, in the gym, and she’s going to town on me. Just kicking my ass. And the more she’s kicking my ass, the harder she pushes herself. I think she likes having control of a situation that’s not necessarily in her favor.”
Peter dug his fingers into his forehead hoping the bashing going on in his head would cease. “Vic, I don’t need to hear this.”
“Yeah. Right away. And fuck you for telling me to stay out of it. I told her she could trust you, and I don’t want to be put in a jackpot with her.”
Peter huffed out a breath.
“Anyway,” Vic said, “She was all sweaty and panting from the workout and I started to panic because my baser needs took over. For a split second, I thought about banging her right there on the gym floor.”
The pounding in Peter’s head worsened. His blood pressure must have hit record heights. This conversation had to end before he stroked out in the middle of Stephen’s reception.
He stood, curled his hands open and closed while his blood nearly seeped out of his skin. “Are you out of your fucking mind telling me this? Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is?”
Vic stood and, being four inches taller than Peter’s six-one, peered down at him.
“Hey, dickhead, you asked. Now shut up and listen. I thought about it. For a second. And then it occurred to me. She’s the daughter of a good friend. She’s got issues regarding sex. She trusts me.”
The packed ballroom drew Peter’s attention. Or maybe he couldn’t stand this conversation any more. Having Vic, a guy who, before he got married, would have taken home the gold in the Player Olympics, lecture him, just fried his ass.
“Isabelle,” Vic said, “is not a girl who trusts easily. You cannot fuck her and run. She comes across as strong and self-sufficient, but you could seriously screw her up. She deserves the best life she can carve out for herself, so whatever your intentions are, keep that in mind.” Vic poked
“Don’t ask me,” Vic said as they left. “I’m having a hard enough time tonight. There’s all kinds of crazy shit going on here. That whole thing with the redhead? You had to hear the conversation at this table. I mean, kill me now.”
“That’s the one I told you about. She’s a flesh-eater.”
Vic leaned into the chair next to Peter. “What’s the story with you and Isabelle? Isabelle, who never lets anyone call her Izzy.”
Where’s this going? Peter and Vic had only discussed a relationship once, during a crisis, and it was Vic’s relationship, not his.
“Nothing to tell. I like her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Peter shrugged. “What?”
Vic scrubbed his fingers across his mouth. “Here’s the thing with Isabelle. She’s a great girl, right? And that body? Unbelievable.”
Oh, shit. No. No. No. Somehow, in the course of the last ten seconds, the world’s largest wave pummeled him. Vic was about to tell him that he’d shagged Izzy.
Peter didn’t want to know. Absolutely not. He’d just work around it, so to speak. But, son of a bitch, he wanted this woman like he wanted his next breath and the thought of her getting it on with Vic would drive him batshit. Vic had found the promised land before him.
He took a breath before he said something stupid. “Did you…” Peter waved his hand in front of him. “You know…with Izzy?”
Where the hell did that come from?
Vic hesitated. “You want to know if I fucked Isabelle?”
Mr. Crude, at his best.
“Actually, no. Whatever you did before Gina is your business.”
Peter picked up a half-filled water glass, probably Izzy’s, and slugged it.
“I thought about it. Once,” Vic said, as if they were discussing what to have for dessert. “I was here on business five years ago—”
Five years ago? Isabelle was twenty-one-years-old five years ago. A goddamned baby.
“She asked me to spar with her,” Vic continued. “We’re alone, in the gym, and she’s going to town on me. Just kicking my ass. And the more she’s kicking my ass, the harder she pushes herself. I think she likes having control of a situation that’s not necessarily in her favor.”
Peter dug his fingers into his forehead hoping the bashing going on in his head would cease. “Vic, I don’t need to hear this.”
“Yeah. Right away. And fuck you for telling me to stay out of it. I told her she could trust you, and I don’t want to be put in a jackpot with her.”
Peter huffed out a breath.
“Anyway,” Vic said, “She was all sweaty and panting from the workout and I started to panic because my baser needs took over. For a split second, I thought about banging her right there on the gym floor.”
The pounding in Peter’s head worsened. His blood pressure must have hit record heights. This conversation had to end before he stroked out in the middle of Stephen’s reception.
He stood, curled his hands open and closed while his blood nearly seeped out of his skin. “Are you out of your fucking mind telling me this? Do you have any idea how inappropriate this is?”
Vic stood and, being four inches taller than Peter’s six-one, peered down at him.
“Hey, dickhead, you asked. Now shut up and listen. I thought about it. For a second. And then it occurred to me. She’s the daughter of a good friend. She’s got issues regarding sex. She trusts me.”
The packed ballroom drew Peter’s attention. Or maybe he couldn’t stand this conversation any more. Having Vic, a guy who, before he got married, would have taken home the gold in the Player Olympics, lecture him, just fried his ass.
“Isabelle,” Vic said, “is not a girl who trusts easily. You cannot fuck her and run. She comes across as strong and self-sufficient, but you could seriously screw her up. She deserves the best life she can carve out for herself, so whatever your intentions are, keep that in mind.” Vic poked
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