Around nine, I pry open the door to my apartment, wondering if Tathan is in his apartment or if he’s at the bar with his brothers. It’s not like I can tell anything by looking at the door, but the mystery is solved in the parking lot.

Warmth blankets my skin, the sweltering Arizona heat licking my face as I fidget to smooth out my long brown curls. When I get to the parking lot, his silver Lexus RCF isn’t in the parking lot. The only reason I know the model of his car is because I like cars. My dad was obsessed with them so by the time I was ten, I knew most manufacturers and the models they made.

Tathan’s car is nice. Mine is not. Remember how I said I love to shop? Well, you certainly wouldn’t think it looking at my car. I have an old ’72 Chevy Impala my dad bought for me when I turned sixteen that gets horrible gas mileage, barely passes the emissions laws here in Phoenix, and has duct tape holding the worn upholstery together on the seats. Not only does it hold sentimental value for me, but I also can’t fathom spending six hundred dollars a month on a car like Casey does. Think about the clothes I can buy with that money each month.

Knowing Tathan’s car isn’t in the parking lot makes me a tad nervous because there’s a good possibility he’s at the bar with his brothers. Then what?

My heart drums wildly in my chest, the idea of seeing him again today gnawing at me. I’m sure you can guess why I have such a strong reaction to him. Though my words are harsh and accusing, it’s a defense mechanism. Like a puffer fish.

With shaky hands, I start my car, the throaty rumble of the engine roaring to life. Traffic in Phoenix is a bitch, no matter what time of the day it is, so it’s more like thirty minutes instead of twenty, and I’m entering the Red Revolver, convinced my plan to make Tathan miserable by dressing sexy might work based on the glances I receive when I walk from my car to the door.

I’ve always enjoyed the Red Revolver. It’s a nice bar, with good strong drinks, and loud music.

Once inside, I scan the room. It’s not hard to find Casey and Zane. He’s tall, she’s short, and both equally obnoxious when you walk in because they’ll literally stand on a table to get your attention.

“Took you long enough!” Zane yells, moving so I can sit between him and Casey.

I decline and push him back down by placing my hands on his shoulders so I can sit on the end of the bench seat of the small booth they’re in. I don’t like to be trapped between them in case I need to leave quickly.

Conversation is quickly steered the direction of the wedding and the expo on Saturday when “Stolen Dance” by Milky Chance blares through the club. I’m in the middle of telling them about Tathan’s latest attempt to ask me out and me biting him.

Naturally, the both of them are fully engrossed in everything I’m telling them until a group of men walk in, causing all the women in the bar to navigate toward them.

“Who’s that?” I ask Zane as he peeks around Casey, staring at the guys surrounded by women.

It’s not uncommon for athletes, even actors to come to this club and if it’s either, Zane will know. The dude spends a good amount of time with his nose in a TMZ magazine. Honestly, Zane gets more action than most women. He’s very attractive and well dressed. Believe me, if he wasn’t gay, I’d consider dating him.

He watches the men, loses interest in another one by the bar, and then looks closer.

Zane leans into my ear so I can hear him over the music. My eyes follow his hand in the direction of the men. “Well, that one,” he points to the bigger guy with brown hair, “is Aldon Hernandez.”

I eye Aldon from a distance. He stands tall, heavily muscled, wearing a white polo shirt with a dark gray hat hiding his eyes. His smile, bright and gleaming with pearly white teeth peeking out, is familiar, but I can’t place the face with the name right away.

Beside him, I notice black hair and that scruffy beard, and I know who the other guy is.

It’s Tathan. I knew when I saw the missing Lexus he’d be here. It’s when I’m staring at Tathan that it finally dawns on me who Aldon is. He’s the quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals.

“Aldon Hernandez?” I take a drink of Zane’s beer, attempting to be nonchalant. “Like the football player?”

Casey chooses then to butt into the conversation, and it’s apparent she’s had too many glasses of wine. “If that guy even looked my way,”—she gestures to Aldon, nearly knocking over her glass of red wine in the process—“I’d be on my back in seconds.”

“You would not,” I point out, trying to ignore her. Casey likes to talk like she’d mess around on Bryan, but she’s been with him since she was fifteen. There’s no way she’d jeopardize it even with a guy like Aldon Hernandez.

Zane stares at me as if he’s trying to find the cure for cancer in my facial features. It’s creepy. “You know who Aldon is, right?”

“No,” I lie. “I’ve just heard of him before.”

I actually enjoy football, but I wouldn’t say I follow it. When my dad was sick, I spent a lot of time by his side watching it with him. He was an avid fan, didn’t really have a team he enjoyed more than the rest, just the sport in general.

“I’m not sure who the other guy is,” Zane adds. “Can’t see him with all those whores surrounding him.”

He’s right. You can barely make out Aldon let alone the guy next to him, who I’m positive, is Tathan now. I see his ass. I know that ass because anytime he gets up from his desk, I watch it. It’s a nice fucking ass.

“Is that Tathan?” Casey looks closer. “I think it is.”

Zane almost spits his beer out. “Oh my God, how does Tathan know Aldon and I didn’t know about this?”

In a panic, I stand immediately. “I’m going to the bar.” I quickly disappear before they can talk me into getting their drinks.

Breathing out slowly, I try to calm my nerves. I knew coming here I’d see him, and while I’m not disappointed, I have a hard-enough time ignoring him at work. Imagine how hard it’ll be in a club with liquor and music.

At the bar, since I’m not anyone important, the bartender ignores me, like I’m not even there. I yell out my order three freaking times, but nothing, not even a glance my direction. “No one cares what I have to say. Assholes.”

“I’m listening,” a familiar voice says from behind me.

I turn to look over my shoulder at him, giving him a judging once-over that he finds entertaining. “Well then, get me a beer.”

All he does is give the bartender a nod. A motherfucking nod and he has his attention. It pisses me off because why do I have boobs if I can’t get a bartender’s attention?

Seems ridiculous.

When the bartender hands me the beer, I don’t tip him. He doesn’t deserve a tip after ignoring me.

Tathan smiles at him. “Thanks, Matt.”

I glare at both of them while taking a drink of my beer. “Yeah, thanks. . . Matt,” I mock, my words laced with sarcasm.

I set my beer down on a table near the wall out of the way of the dancing crowd, and wouldn’t you know it, Tathan follows me over there, like I owe him a favor for getting the bartender’s attention.

“Dance with me?” He tips his head toward the dance floor, our fingers brushing for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough my body warms at the slightest connection to him. His smile is soft, his gaze, intimidating. Like he’s just waiting for me to say no so he’s challenged.

I turn on my heel to face him, not prepared for how close he is. Our chests touch and I have to say, it’s nice. Those around us would have thought we were a couple by our proximity and the way his hands always gravitate toward my hips.

Goddamn you, stupid beautiful man. Searching his eyes, his lips are inches away from mine again. I don’t bite him this time. Tempting, but I don’t because I’m caught off guard by seeing just how nice those lips look under the neon lights of the bar signs.

“What are you even doing here?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you stalking me?”

“No, my friends are here.” He smirks, and I know what he’s going to say next is going to be delivered in a teasing manner. “But you know,” he leans forward so his forearms are resting on the table, inches from my beer and his, “I could be a stalker if you like that sorta thing.” He winks.

There’s that wink again.

I try to look away when he holds his phone in his hand and stares at the screen as it lights up. “Crazy thing happened tonight. . .” At the tenderness of his voice, my eyes drift to his and he smiles, one side higher than the other. He holds up his phone that says ten missed calls, and I nearly burst out laughing. “I keep getting these calls about my car being for sale. Know anything about that?”

Shit. How could I have forgotten about posting his car for sale?

“Nope.” I smile, looking around the bar and then back to him. Raising my beer to my lips, I keep my grin at bay. “Are you selling it?”

His caramel truffle eyes lock on mine, and he shakes his head, smirking. “Nope.”

His eyes drift south to my cleavage, which is on display for him. They linger there. Damn it, I know where this going. He’s wearing me down, and I can’t let myself go there. Not with him.

Deciding Tathan needs to know he can’t just have any woman he wants, I reach for my beer and begin to walk away, like I usually do in his presence. Only before I can get away, he grabs my arm.

“You know, I really wasn’t asking for the dance.” He laughs under his breath. “I was just being kind. I think you know I was demanding a dance.”

He’s confident, isn’t he? Goddamn it. Why is it so damn sexy when a man tells you how it’s going to be, rather than asking?

“I can’t dance,” I lie for the second time tonight. I pole dance with Jade on the days I don’t work out. If you’ve never tried it, I’m telling you now, it’s an amazing workout. So yeah—if pole dancing is considered dancing—I can dance.

“Amalie.” Tathan bends down so his lips tenderly graze my ear. He’s really trying to work the appeal he has and sadly, it’s done with little effort. He could melt a nun’s panties off just by glancing in her direction. He drags his hand down my back, stopping just above the curve of my ass and pushes my hips against his own. “Anyone can dance if they have someone to lead.”

Without giving me much time to hesitate, he leads us to the middle of the dance floor with a look on his face I absolutely hate, one that screams, you’re giving in to me.

I can’t help but notice all the dirty looks I receive from the women around me as I follow Tathan. I have to admit it. He’s one gorgeous man, and it’s no surprise he has women all over him.

My problem is I’m not that girl. I don’t melt over men anymore. I have a hard shell, and nothing’s cracking it. At least not this dude. Who the hell am I kidding? If this guy wanted to crack my shell, I’d spread out like a fried egg cooking over hot flames just waiting for him to bust my yoke.

Tathan suddenly stops in the middle of the dance floor turning around to face me and pulls me close with both hands on my hips. The motion has my breath spiking because he smells so good, and it’s doing nothing for my celibacy mission.

And that stare he gives me is doing nothing for it either. Keep this up, and I’m going to stumble in my resolve.

Like he’s going in for the kill, he raises his hand to touch the side of my face. “Don’t take those beautiful eyes off mine,” he orders me, and then he begins to move to the music, a gentle sway to his body.

Hell, imagine what he could do in bed.

Naturally, a rap song had to come on to make matters worse. “Shake” by Ying Yang Twins.

His eyes pause on me, visually measuring the distance between us. Leaning down, he pulls me flush against his body—wrapping my arms around his neck. I sink, right into his warm embrace.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me and, oh, is it nice. Like Christmas morning nice, exciting and comforting all at the same time. There’s just something about him that draws me in. Maybe it’s his unnervingly warm gaze and the somewhat ruggedness the beard gives him.

Briefly—as I try to stay composed—I forget what’s happening and enjoy myself, feel his warmth and the way his body moves with mine. He smells so good, strong arms, breath panting on my neck as I grind into him, and I never let my eyes leave his.

His body is strong everywhere my hands have the pleasure of roaming. I’m lost in his features, and those gorgeous eyes capture me.

Caught up in the moment, I decide then to show him I did in fact lie a little. I can dance. In another life, I think I was a professional dancer. Even Jade agrees I’ve got talent and she’s seen the best of the best in her game.

“Stop thinking so much,” Tathan whispers in my ear, sensing my mind is elsewhere. “Dancing is supposed to make you feel sexy.”

Oh, I’ll show you just how sexy I can be, buddy.

Turning, I shove my ass into him.

When my backside comes in contact with his crotch, he lets out a very audible gasp and clutches me tighter to him without an inch of space between us.

It’s apparent right then what I do to him. It’s pressing into my ass. Part of me wants to grin, the other part wants to cringe because I can’t for the life of me understand why I’m doing this. We continue to dance like this for the rest of the five-minute song.

When it’s over, he roughly turns me around and whispers a throaty “Thanks” in my ear and lets go of me.

I don’t look at him. Hello, I was just grinding my ass on his erection for a few minutes, and I’m kind of embarrassed to say my panties are a tad damp. I decide it’s time to get away from him before I do something I’m going to regret. Coming here was a bad idea, and I need a more thought-out plan with actual steps or a checklist for Christ’s sake before I’m around Tathan again.

Only, before I can get away from him, his hands are on mine, and he’s pulling me back toward him. “Don’t leave.” When I pull away, he shakes his head, seeming disappointed. “Have a beer with me.”

“N-no,” I stutter out, not sure how to deal with someone like him. Especially since I’m beginning to see he’s nothing like I thought he was. “I need to go home.”

He’s frowning at my denial and doesn’t say anything. I automatically shift my eyes to his, wanting to see his reaction to my words.

He tips his head, eyes on the bar and then back to mine. “Why? Needing to get home isn’t an excuse. Either you don’t want to, or you’re just avoiding me.”

When I stare at him, I understand there’s more to this guy than him being a manwhore, but I don’t want to see that.

There are certain types of guys out there. The ones you know are just looking for a good time and will take it when it’s there, no matter what the repercussions might be.

Then there are the ones who want to have a good time, but have morals. From what I can tell, Tathan is the latter, the one with morals. He has honest eyes, ones that can’t hold lies within them.

“I don’t. . . want to.” I start to walk away when a hand reaches out for me.

“Why not?”

“Because. You’re not the kind of guy I need to get wrapped up with.” I stare at the floor, anywhere but his eyes, because the idea of being wrapped up with him physically is exactly where I want to be.

As our hands part, my body denied his warmth, I don’t look back. I can’t. If I do, I’ll run back into his arms and beg him to find the nearest bathroom stall with me.

Completely oblivious to anyone around them, Zane and Casey are dancing. They won’t even notice me leaving.

I sneak one last look at Tathan. He’s standing by the bar with Aldon, confusion plastered on his face, but there’s something more. Let down. Damn it. He’s too pretty for that face, but I’m too flawed to change it.

Once inside my car, the same song we just danced to is playing on my car radio.

Great. Now I have to hate this song.

With an exaggerated flip of my hand, I turn it off and make the drive back to my apartment in complete silence, though my mind is far from silent. I’m replaying every detail of that dance and why it was important to stay far away from Tathan.

Once again, I walk to my apartment barefoot; the three-inch heels were a bad idea. When I open the door, Oliver is there waiting for his walk.

Reaching for his leash, he wiggles to the point his tail touches his ears. “Come on, boy.” He’s eager and jumping all over me, sharp claws scratching at my bare legs.

There’s one bad thing about having a puppy. Well, there are a few, but the one at the top of my list: they require maintenance and walking at all hours of the night. And for a girl like me—one scared of the dark—this is not easy. These are the times when I wish he was a cat so I could get him to use a litter box. Not knowing much of anything about raising a dog on my own, I actually tried to get him to use a litter box. It was a disaster. He ate the litter like it was dog food and then promptly threw it all back up and spent the next three hours in the vet ER as I thought I poisoned him.

Outside, he paces the same patch of lawn he usually pees on, as if he’s trying to find the only spot he hasn’t peed on yet this week. It’s then I’m looking around at my surroundings and wishing I would have brought something to defend myself with should I be attacked. It’s not like Oliver could protect me. He’s barely ten pounds and licks people to death.

Fear pricks my skin, as it usually does when I’m outside at night. Within a minute, I break out in a cold sweat. I don’t know what it is that freaks me out. Maybe too many horror movies? “Come on, Oliver! Will you just pee already?”

Oliver looks up at me, sad I yelled at him. Poor baby. He didn’t deserve that.

I kneel to his level. “Look, Mommy is really sorry, but you need to pee, buddy. It’s late, and I’m barely wearing anything.”

Phoenix isn’t exactly the safest city, and when I’m out here this late at night, well, I get scared.

“Hey, baby!” A man whistles from behind. “Nice dog.”

Yeah right. Like he’s looking at my dog with this dress on.

Oliver growls as the man passes by, his fur all riled up and standing on end. He doesn’t like men. At all.

The man gets past us and whistles. “I wasn’t talking about the dog, honey.”

Yeah, you’re so obvious.

“Eat a dick, asshole.” The nerve of some people. Picking up Oliver, I rush to my apartment.

The entire way upstairs, Oliver barks at nothing, like he’s protecting me by making so much noise.

“You should have peed.” I set Oliver down once we get up the stairs and he wiggles like I’m rewarding him, because I spoke to him.

It’s amazing that no matter what I say, he wiggles.

At the end of the hall, Tathan’s unlocking his door. The sound of my wiggly, still barking dog, slides his attention my way.

Like a scene out of Dirty Dancing, he turns and looks over at me, leaning into his door frame holding his keys in the palm of his hand. His black shirt is unbuttoned a little more from what it was at the club, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol in him and I must say, he has me staring at him once again.

They shouldn’t make them as pretty as him.

Tathan glances at Oliver and then slides his stare to mine again. “I didn’t get to thank you before you rushed out, but thanks for the dance.”

Smiling to myself, I don’t say anything to him as I unlock my own door, my hands shaking in the process, remembering in detail the way his breath felt against my skin.

That’s when I hear the faint sounds of water and look back.

I shit you not, Oliver is peeing on Tathan’s doormat, and then runs back to his mommy.

Should I reward him?

Tathan squints down at the doormat and then at me again, and says nothing.

I get my door open, Oliver trots in, completely satisfied with himself.

What the hell do I say? Should I apologize?

When I don’t say anything, Tathan gives me a big forced grin, steps over the puddle and inside his apartment and closes the door. Not a single word.

Shit. He’s pissed.

Inside my apartment, Oliver is sitting on the couch watching me, probably wondering if he’s going to get yelled at or given a treat.

I rub his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He has no idea what I’m saying. By his wiggles, once again he thinks I’m rewarding him, and I’m not sure I’m not rewarding him.

Sitting next to him, my phone buzzes so I glance at it in my lap. It’s a message from Casey, and then another from Zane, but I don’t read any of them. They’re used to me ignoring their messages. Instead, I cuddle with Oliver and think of ways to make this plan of mine work. You know, the one where I need to make Tathan miserable and not dance with him. Or look at him. Or talk to him.

And now I need to buy him a new doormat. I’m too nice of a person not to.

“I could just give him one of those pee-mats I set down for you when I’m at work,” I say to Oliver, considering doing just that. “Just in case you feel the need to pee on his doorstep again.”

I chuckle at myself, thinking I’m funny. Oliver doesn’t say anything, but cocks his head with his left ear flopped back. I reach over straightening out his ear. “I’m funny, right?”

He barks as if to say, “Yes, Mommy, you are.”

What’s not funny is that I’m here with my dog, talking to him all about my problems.

Everyone wonders why I am this way. And by everyone, I’m talking about Casey and Zane. They know what my deal is, but they wish I’d give someone else a chance instead of letting one guy ruin it all.

Everyone has a deal. A reason as to why they are the way they are.

Mine?

Colton Enning.

I briefly told you about him. We started dating my junior year of high school. Everything was great. We were both on the swim team and had that passion for swimming that drew us together. And if anyone could pull off the speedo look, it was certainly Colton. We even went to college together, both on scholarships for swimming.

And then—just three months into my freshman year at Arizona State—my dad was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. I had no other family, my mother died when I was just a baby, so I dropped out of school to help him.

Colton and I started drifting apart almost immediately. It was just a year into my dad’s treatment when they found out the cancer had spread throughout his body and his brain. I knew it was the end. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to give up.

Needing comfort one afternoon, I went to campus to see Colton.

Distant girlfriend, college boyfriend needing his own comfort. . . . You can pretty much guess the scene I was met with.

Walked in on him getting a blow job from his roommate’s girlfriend. While he begged and pleaded and told me, “Babe, it’s not what it looked like,” it’s kind of hard to deny it when your dick’s in another woman’s mouth. My final assessment? He’s a douchebag, and I deserved better. Weeks later, I found out he’d been cheating on me for well over a year.

My dad made it another six months before he passed away.

After that, I swore off men entirely. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t need the lying bastards in my life.

Sure, I had a few one-night stands—one absolutely amazing on Halloween last year—and the others not so much. Now I was just trying to stay away from the ones I knew would break my heart. Relationships just weren’t my thing anymore.

Casey always tells me, “Don’t let Colton spoil it all,” but he ultimately did. He really did. The saying “one bad apple ruins the whole bunch” sort of mentality. I loved him more than anything at the time, and when I needed him, he wasn’t there for me and did the inconceivable.

Certainly, that wasn’t going to be easy for me to move on from. It’s been two years and I still can’t.