After every win, the team went to the local sports bar, the Penalty Box. They had the hottest wings and even hotter waitresses. Plus, the owner, Tommy, was a season ticket holder and took good care of the team. After dominating the game, I was ready for some booze, food, and company.

The Penalty Box had all of that.

In abundance.

Walking in behind the guys, I slid my hands along the black tee that hugged my shoulders and chest. I loved this shirt. It was my “getting some puss” shirt. It showed every detail of my chest and then some. Paired with my favorite shorts, there was no chance I’d go home alone tonight.

Not with the ass I had.

I sat down toward the back, near the pool tables and the second bar, and reached for a menu. Max grabbed a seat across from me.

“Why are you looking at that?” He shook his head. “You get the same damn thing every time.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” he spat back.

I was starting to realize why everyone called us an old married couple. Max was always up my ass, telling me what to do. Yeah, he was older and more experienced, but he wasn’t my daddy.

“You’re not my dad!”

“Okay, son, relax,” he teased.

I glared at him.

“I’m sorry I teased you. Please, look at the menu. Try something else.”

I made a face at him as the waitress came to the table. He ordered his regular: wings and a pitcher of beer.

I looked over the menu, scrunching my face up. “Can I get the fish tacos, a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato, and a side of cheese fries? Along with a mug to go with his pitcher?”

Max stared at me as Julie, our regular waitress, just smiled. “So the regular, Bus?”

“Yeah, whatever,” I mumbled.

Max laughed while Julie walked away. “I don’t know why you fight with me.”

“Because you’re wrong. All the time.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’m ready to kick your ass at pool.”

“In your dreams,” I called back. “You couldn’t beat me if I played with no hands.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Bring it,” I said, swirling chalk at the end of a pool cue. I wasn’t one to brag—okay, maybe I was—but there wasn’t anything I was bad at. Oh wait, I sucked at knitting. Yeah, I was horrible, and my aunt would tell anyone that. But at everything else, I was awesome.

I looked around the bar, taking in all the females. Most of them I knew and had already slept with. The ones I didn’t know, I just wasn’t feeling. Probably because I was still thinking about that sexy redheaded ice girl. She was driving me wild. The way she looked at me, like I stole her doll and drew dicks on its mouth, revved my engines. I wanted to kiss the scowl between her eyes, squeeze that naughty ass of hers, and bury my cock deep inside her. And her tits? Man, fucking those would be heaven. It had been a long time since I yearned for a woman, probably because they usually threw themselves at me.

I was pretty sure the only thing redhead wanted to throw at me was a puck.

“Hey, Bus.”

It took me a moment to place the voice and the face, but then I remembered her. She was an ice girl, and I had slept with her the first time we met. Shannon? Shanna? Sharron?

“Hey…you,” I finally said with a wave. “How you doing?”

“Good. Better if you’d let me take a ride.”

Anyone else might have questioned what ride she wanted to take, but I knew good and well. Especially when she opened her legs a bit, her eyes full and lusty as she trailed her fingers up her thighs. Wiggling my finger at her, I called, “Oh now, you know better than that. I don’t stick my dick in the honeypot more than once.”

She feigned a pout, her lips coming out in a very sexy way. But I had been there, done that, and had the T-shirt. Plus, it wasn’t that great.

“Don’t you wanna make an exception?” She leaned into her arms, her breasts coming together in a way that almost had me reconsidering. Almost.

“Nope, sweetheart, can’t do it. But my boy Maxy can.”

Max glared over at me. “I’m getting married.”

“Small technicality,” I said, waving him off. “Plus, she isn’t even here.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love her and respect her.”

I rolled my eyes. Max was engaged to this girl from back home in Iowa. She was legit a milkmaid, and man, he loved her. She was nice, I guess, but there was no way I would ever be tied down to one girl. That was pathetic. “Whatever. Your loss. Or hers,” I said, pointing to Shanna, or whatever her name was.

“Not everyone likes to fuck around like you.”

“Why not?” I asked. I stood and struck the cue ball into the racked balls, scattering them around the table. “It’s the best of both worlds. Lots of ass and no commitments.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I love being committed to one ass.”

“Must be a great ass,” I teased.

He glared. “You just wait. Your one great ass will come, and then our Gussy Bussy will be tied down forever.”

I scoffed at that, pointing my pool stick at him. “The day that happens is the day I don’t score.”

“I am seriously praying for that day.” Maxy stood and took a shot, getting a ball in before looking back up at me. “I’m so tired of having to wait to go to bed.”

“Huh?”

“You and the female friends you bring back to the apartment.”

I made a face. “No one said you can’t go to bed when I have someone over.”

He shot me a deadpan look. “No one could sleep when the whole apartment is being filled with ‘Oh, harder, Bus, harder. Ugh, ugh, oh, oh, Bus, Bus, Bus—’”

Everyone in earshot started laughing. Hell, even I did as I waved him off. “I get it.”

“I swear, it’s more obnoxious than you.”

I feigned feeling hurt. “How rude.”

“You know it’s true. And I bet you tell them they need to be loud or you won’t give them the full-length Bus.”

When he made a crude hand motion, the room was in stitches.

I shook my head. “You’re pathetic.”

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back.

Miller came up and slapped Max’s back. “Does he still do that pec thing to music?”

Max laughed, nodding his head. “Every morning.” Dropping the stick, he flexed and then started singing “I’m Too Sexy.”

“I don’t sing that!”

He paused, thinking that over, and then nodded. “That’s right, it’s usually Beyoncé.”

More laughter as I scoffed. “Hey, she’s the queen!” The room was loud, and I just smiled as I shot the eight ball in, winning the game. “And like Beyoncé, I slay, motherfucker.”

After Julie filled my mug, I took a long swig. Just as I turned to lay my stick against the wall, I found myself toe-to-toe with a certain redhead.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked up at me. “Excuse me.”

My heart stopped. My eyes widened. My body suddenly felt as hot as her hair. She ducked to walk around me, but I couldn’t let her by. Not yet. I stepped in front of her, holding my hands up. “Hey, no need to excuse yourself. Want a beer?”

She shook her head. She was wearing a halter, and her breasts peeked out the sides. Her jeans hugged every inch of her ass. Her long hair was up in a top knot, and her makeup from the game was gone. She looked even hotter without it. Like someone I wanted to wake up to the next morning.

“I’m good,” she replied. “I don’t drink beer.”

I stopped her once again. “I can buy you whatever you want.”

Her glare deepened as she shook her head. “No. I’m good.”

Once more, I moved to stop her when she tried to walk away. No one turned me down. This was insane. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She paused, a smile coming over her face. “My name? That’s all you want? Well, it’s Fuck Off.”

Whoa. What the hell? I didn’t understand her hostility. Had I slept with her already? No. No, I hadn’t. I’d remember her. As she walked toward her group of friends, I called out, “I don’t think you like me.”

She turned back, her eyes cutting to mine. “Don’t think? Well let me help you with that. No, I don’t like you, because I have a tendency to find self-absorbed dicks to be obnoxious assholes.”

I held my chest, this time a tad hurt. What a bitch! “Whoa.”

“Oh, please don’t be surprised. Everyone thinks it; they just won’t say it,” she added, sitting down and crossing her legs. “But I’m not them.”

I could only blink and glance back at Max, whose jaw was almost to the floor. I held my hands out. “What the fuck?”

He looked at me, a grin pulling at his lips. “I don’t know, but I love her.”

Speechless, I shook my head as I looked back to the redhead who had just cut me in a way no one ever had. Usually women loved me. I’d met a few who didn’t, but usually it was because they were playing for the other team! What did I do to this girl?

And why the hell did I want to find out?

Her message was clear—stay the hell away—but I couldn’t help it.

I wanted more.

A lot more.

For the simple fact that rejection wasn’t really my thing.