Ryan

As I stared at Sofia’s phone number in my phone from the comfort of my California king bed, I considered sending her a text but decided against it. It was well after three in the morning, and I had no intention of starting a conversation with her at that hour.

I was tempted to delete her number completely since she hadn’t been the one to give it to me in the first place, but my practical side wouldn’t allow it. Sofia was difficult, and I needed every advantage I could get when it came to her. So the number stayed.

Thoughts of her tanned face, hazel eyes, and brown hair blurred my vision, and before I knew it, my hand was down my sweatpants and sliding up and down my hardening cock.

My fantasy played out as I imagined gripping the back of her head with my free hand, my fingers tangling in her hair so she couldn’t pull away from me. I held her face still, my dick hardening even more as I continued stroking it to visions of her.

I pulled her lips toward mine, my movements not at all gentle or sweet as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, showing her exactly who was in control. She moaned, liking the fact that I was going all alpha male on her as I deepened the kiss before moving to suck and bite at her neck.

Tugging at my sweats, I pushed them past my balls and kept working my dick, my hand moving at a rapid pace that felt so damn good.

Sofia’s body was at my whim, mine for the taking. She gave up control and I took it, my hands roaming every inch of her as I discarded her clothes. She arched her back, pushing her tits closer, her nipples erect as I took them in my mouth one at a time. I sucked her perfect nipple between my lips, my tongue flicking at the sensitive bud before biting down a little too hard. The sound that escaped her only made me do it more. She liked it, that little bit of pain that brought on even more pleasure.

My dick could barely take another moment, and I’d just gotten started. I pulled my cock harder, moving my hand faster as my breathing grew erratic.

I worked my way down Sofia’s stomach to her gorgeous core. Burying my face in her pussy, I devoured it like it was my last meal, licking and pressing my tongue inside her as she squirmed beneath me.

Fuck, yes.

Seeing her this turned on only pushed me closer to the edge. I neared my release as I plunged my cock inside her. She was hot and wet, her walls gripping me so tight that I immediately came after a few more strokes.

My hand slowed its pace, but didn’t quite stop, as I attempted to catch my breath and slow my erratic heartbeat.

If fucking Sofia in real life was half as good as my fantasy, I was in for some serious trouble.

• • •

After going through a series of stretches the next morning, I took off down my regular jogging path. I had stopped running listening to music with my earbuds a while back when I realized I was missing everything around me.

Music helped me block out life as I ran, but running along the beach, I wanted to hear what was going on around me. I found that I enjoyed the noise.

The crash of the ocean’s waves against the shore, the creaking of swings as kids swung back and forth, the chatter and laughter of tourists and locals, the songs of talented street musicians. The sounds all swirled together, making me feel more connected.

My feet pounded the pavement, following the familiar path with ease. The beach was crowded today, due in part to the recent warm temperatures. Santa Monica was almost always hopping, but the activity turned up a notch when it got hot out. Birds squawked, diving and hopping around on the sand in search of discarded food to steal.

Children laughed and shouted as I neared the playground. The sound of a couple arguing drew my attention for a second before I tuned them out and continued on my way.

One of the voices sounded vaguely familiar, however, even though it was strained. I slowed down, scanning for the couple in question. Glancing in every direction, I almost gave up before spotting them, a man and a woman arguing a short distance from the kids, but not far enough away. The woman was pleading, begging the man to leave, her hands waving wildly back and forth.

“Sofia?” I said out loud, my eyes narrowing as I stared, and she turned.

“Oh, thank God, Ryan.”

Thank God?

She ran toward me but kept glancing back at the playground, as if she was scared to get too far away. The guy followed her, his hands balled into fists.

Oh, hell no. If he thought for one second that he was going to hit her, he’d better think again.

“Who the hell is this? He’s not Matson’s father,” the guy said, clearly agitated as he pointed at me.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he looked like a grade-A douchebag, an unhinged one at that, and I wanted to punch him for it.

Sofia looked more agitated than I’d ever seen her, and my entire body came alive with a possessive need to protect her. I moved to shield her body with mine.

“Is there a problem here? Sofia, is this guy bothering you?” I asked, straightening to my full height so I could tower over the short little prick.

“Yes,” she said, just as he said, “No.”

I’d give this guy a fucking problem if he didn’t leave her alone. Taking an aggressive step toward him, I felt a perverse satisfaction as he stepped back. Yep. Douche-face was afraid of me. Good. He should be.

“Who the hell is this asshole?” he yelled at Sofia while pointing a well-manicured finger at me.

“I’m about to be your worst nightmare if you don’t get that finger out of my damn face,” I growled, my eyes narrowing to take in his perfectly styled hair and pressed clothes. He couldn’t have looked less suited for a day at the beach.

“Touch me and I’ll have your ass thrown in jail,” he shouted.

I couldn’t have been less concerned about his threat. I’d go to jail right now. Hell, I’d lock myself in there. It’s not as if my brothers would leave me stranded. Not to mention the fact that we had the best lawyer in town on standby for any issues regarding our business or personal lives. This wasn’t the first time I’d threatened by some entitled asshole.

“Touch Sofia and they’ll have to put me in jail to keep me from killing you,” I growled at him.

The guy pulled his cell phone from his pocket, hovering his finger over the screen. “Care to repeat that?”

“Are you serious?” I glanced at Sofia before glaring back at this tool, who was doing a shitty job of getting me to threaten him on video.

“Derek, just go. You shouldn’t be here.” Sofia tried to sound strong, but I noticed the tremble in her voice.

“I have every right to be here, and you know it,” he said, clearly trying to bait her. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he took a step toward Sofia, but I blocked his path and he stepped back.

“I think you should leave,” I demanded.

“Or what?” he spat out as he took another step back from me.

“Or else we’re going to have a big fucking problem. Right here. Right now. And I’ll call the cops myself. You want that?” I moved toward him again and watched as he stepped even further back.

He glared at her, and all I could think was that if looks could throw punches, Sofia would have been knocked out cold. “This isn’t over, Sofia. Not by a long shot. You know the kind of power my family has and what I’m capable of. He’s my son too.”

“Leave,” I said again, my tone threatening, and he turned to stomp away.

Refusing to take my eyes off of him, I watched until he disappeared from view. He only turned around once to look back, his phone aimed high, probably taking a picture. But I’d worry about that later.

Turning toward Sofia, I took her into my arms. Her entire body relaxed as I pulled her against my chest, resting my chin on her head as I ran my fingers through her hair, calming her. She went nearly limp against me with relief, her breathing deep and ragged, but my curiosity forced me to end this magical moment before I was ready.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” I asked, even though I already had a fairly good idea.

“Not really,” she mumbled against my chest.

“Was he talking about your son?” I asked, unable to hide the lilt in my voice. When she nodded against me, I said, “So you have a son.”

“I do.” She pulled away and pointed at a kid with hair and skin the same color as hers who was playing on the monkey bars. “That’s him in the dark blue shirt.”

He happened to be looking at us at the exact same time, and waved to Sofia.

As she waved back, I asked, “What’s his name?”

“Matson.”

I repeated the name in my head a few times, thinking how unique it was, and wondered where it came from. “That’s a cool name.”

A slight smile played at her lips. “Thanks.”

“How old is he?” I wasn’t experienced with kids, so I had no idea how old he was. She could have told me he was five or ten, and I would have believed her.

“He’s eight.”

Eight seemed like a good age. For what exactly, I had no idea.

“So that dickhead was his father?”

Her entire body tensed at my question. I’d never been a violent guy before, but I found myself filled with an overwhelming urge to break every bone in his fucking body if he ever scared her or her son again. And there was no doubt that Sofia was scared.

“Unfortunately.”

A million more thoughts swam in my head as I watched her son run around the swings, kicking up sand behind him.

Whatever attraction I’d had to Sofia grew tenfold in those moments after learning she was a mom. That knowledge transformed her in my mind to someone unlike any other woman who came into my bar, and in the best possible way. Learning this changed everything for me . . . the way I saw her, the way I felt about her. A life with her and her son played so clearly in my mind, I had to remind myself that none of it was real.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The question came out in almost a whisper as my confusion mixed with a sudden clarity. Her attitude had been so standoffish because she had a kid. It wasn’t that she really hated me; she was only trying to protect herself and her heart because she assumed I’d break it.

“Why does it matter?”

“What do you mean, why does it matter?”

“I saw you with that girl last night, Ryan. You take your shirt off every night because women ask you to. Why do you care what I do?”

My grasp on the conversation faltered. “Wait, what? What girl?” I had absolutely no idea what Sofia was talking about. “There was no girl.”

“So I made up seeing that gorgeous woman wrap her arms around you behind the bar?”

I stared at the sandy concrete, desperately searching my memory to conjure up the moment she was so certain happened. “I honestly don’t know,” I said, then stopped. “Oh. Long brown hair? Tanned skin?”

“Nice of you to actually remember her,” Sofia said with a bit too much snark for my liking.

“That’s my brother’s girlfriend, Claudia.” Satisfaction shot through me as Sofia swallowed and her face reddened slightly. “And for the record, I hate taking my shirt off.”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

“Because I’ve never had a reason to stop,” I said, although that wasn’t quite true. The fact that I hated it should have been enough reason for me to stop, but so far it hadn’t been.

“Then you must not hate it that much,” she said, holding her ground.

“Trust me, I do. I’ll stop tonight. I’ll never take my shirt off at the bar again. Will that make you happy?”

“Don’t do anything for me, Ryan. Do it for yourself,” she said, and I hated how her words made me feel small inside.

“You’re changing the subject.” Getting this conversation back on track, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a son?”

Her demeanor quickly changed, and I felt the power shift back into my court. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, but I refused to accept that bullshit non-answer.

I deserved the truth and I wanted to hear her say it, so I continued to push. “Yes, you do. You could have told me. Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think it mattered or would have made a difference.”

She looked everywhere but at me, and that’s how I knew. Sofia was lying. She knew damn well it would have made a difference, but not in the negative way she probably assumed it would have.

“Nope. Try again.”

She shifted her weight and kicked her flip-flop against the concrete. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in dating a single mom.” She gave me a quick glance before looking away again.

Now we’re finally getting somewhere. And even though the judgment stung, I brushed it off.

“You just assumed that? Based on what, exactly?” I crossed my arms and swallowed hard. A defensive move on my part, but I was starting to feel exactly that.

“Your occupation, for starters.” Her eyes held mine a little longer this time before she looked away. More truths.

“You didn’t think I’d be interested in dating you because I own a bar?” Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of what exactly she was saying. How had my owning a bar correlated with my wanting to date her or not? One had absolutely nothing to do with the other.

“Something like that,” she said dismissively.

My insides reignited, my adrenaline still pumping from earlier. Instead of calming me down, this conversation was riling me back up. Uncrossing my arms, I reached for her chin and waited for her eyes to meet mine.

“Tell me the truth, Sofia. For once since we met, just tell me the damn truth.”

As I waited, she stayed silent. Her face pinched with an emotion I couldn’t quite place—either confusion as she sorted through her thoughts, or hope that if she stayed quiet long enough, I’d eventually go away and leave her alone.

Finally, she said, “I didn’t think you’d want to date me, okay? That’s the truth.”

Those damn eyes continued to look over my shoulder and then back toward her son. They looked everywhere except at me. And while I stood there, excited at the possibility that this woman was an even more perfect match for me, it suddenly became clear that Sofia didn’t see me the same way.

“Except it’s not. Is it?” The realization hit me like a fucking sledgehammer to the rib cage. Sofia didn’t think I was good enough. She hadn’t pushed me away to protect herself or her heart; she pushed me away because she didn’t want me.

Past conversations replayed in my head like a bad soundtrack I couldn’t make stop. Sofia had told me over and over how I wasn’t her type, and said I wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for. She might be lying about it now, but she hadn’t been lying then. When she pictured the perfect guy for her, she didn’t see me. Hell, she never even considered it. She’d blown me off the second she met me. I was never an option. In her opinion, I wasn’t good enough.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice was so wary, I wondered how my expression must look for her to sound that way.

“Just how ironic all of this is,” I managed to say, although I wasn’t sure how. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a handful of sand.

Her head tilted to one side as if she wasn’t following my meaning at all. “Ironic? How is any of this ironic?”

I fought through my emotions to find the words . . . and trust me, I was damn well getting emotional. “I just found out you’re a mom, and no matter what you think, I’m even more attracted to you because of it.”

I paused, giving my words time to sink in. I wanted her to hear to hear me—really hear me—before I continued.

“But you’re not,” I said sadly. “I mean, I’m even more interested in dating you because you have a kid, and you aren’t interested in me at all for the exact same reason. It’s ironic.”

“It—it’s not,” she stammered. “I just mean—”

I put up a hand to stop her. “It doesn’t matter. You made yourself clear to me many times. You told me I wasn’t right for you. I guess I should have listened.”

“Ryan . . .”

I tried not to wince at how soft and sympathetic her voice now sounded. Pity was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t need Sofia feeling sorry for me because of the way she felt. If she didn’t think I was good enough for her, so be it. She was wrong, but that was on her, not me. And it would be her loss.

“Mama?”

Both Sofia and I looked down at the same time to see her son standing nearby, looking between us. Neither of us had seen him coming.

“Who are you?” he asked me, shielding the sun from his blue eyes with his hand.

“Hi. I’m Ryan. I’m a friend of your mom’s.” I gave her a quick glance before I dropped to a crouch so I could be eye level with him. “And you are?”

“I’m Matson Richards.” He shoved his hand toward me and waited for me to shake it.

We shook hands, and I pretended to wince like his grip was too strong. “It’s nice to meet you, Matson Richards. I was actually just leaving.”

“Oh. Do you have to go?” His head cocked to the side, making his brown hair flop over his eyes. He looked up at his mom. “Does he have to go?”

“Sorry, buddy, I have to get to work.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “But it’s Saturday. Grown-ups don’t work on Saturdays.”

A small laugh escaped me. “Some grown-ups do. Otherwise, every place would be closed. Does that make sense?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Shit. How do I explain this?

“Okay, Matson. I’m sure you don’t just sit at home every Saturday, right? What else do you and your mom do on the weekends?”

His face lit up. “Sometimes we go to the movies. I love popcorn. Do you like popcorn?” When I nodded, he said, “Mama likes to go grocery shopping. I don’t like it when she makes me go with her, but she usually buys me a treat, so then it’s okay.” He sucked in a big breath before launching into more. “And she loves Target, so we go there a lot. But I don’t see why she likes it so much. It’s not even fun. Sometimes we go out to eat at my nana’s favorite restaurant. I like it because I get to eat a lot of chips and salsa, and no one tells me to stop.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. This damn kid was adorable. “See? All those things that you do and those places you go to, like the movies, the restaurant and the grocery store.” I made a face that made him giggle. “There are people working there, right?”

“Like the lady that brings us the chips and salsa?”

“Exactly. Is she a grown-up?”

His lips bunched into a pucker as he stared at the sky. “Kind of. She’s not like a grown-up like you and Mama. But she’s not like me either.”

This kid was too smart for his own good.

Before I could finish making my point, he gave me a wise nod. “I get it now, Ryan. Some grown-ups have to work on Saturdays so I can see movies, or Mama can go to Target and buy things we don’t need.”

Sofia let out a laugh. “Hey, I can hear you, you know.”

“It’s true, Mama,” Matson said with a shrug. “You say it all the time.”

“You’re right. I do.” She hugged him, the love she had for her son radiating from her like sunshine.

The boy gave me a hopeful look. “Sorry you have to work. Maybe you can come with me and Mama to get chips sometime.”

Ten minutes ago, I would have jumped at the idea. But I hadn’t forgotten how easily Sofia had dismissed me. How wrong she’d been about me, and how she hadn’t even given me a chance.

“Maybe.” I stood up.

Matson asked his mom if he could keep playing, and ran off once he had her approval.

Watching him go, I said, “He seems like a great kid,” and I meant it.

“He is. The best. You were really great with him.”

Sofia seemed a little choked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my interaction with Matson, or if it was about the dickhead from earlier. Or maybe it was from something else entirely.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at her. “You sound surprised.”

She fidgeted nervously, all her usual bravado gone. “I guess I am.”

“That’s really fucked up, you know.” I hadn’t planned on saying it exactly like that, but I couldn’t stop the harsh words from coming out. “You saw me in my bar once, maybe twice, and somehow that gave you the right to judge me? You think you know me, but you don’t. And I clearly don’t know you. Hope you have a nice life, Sofia. I mean it.”

Too pissed off to care about her feelings while I was caught up in my own, I walked away. And when she called my name, instead of stopping or turning around, I picked up the pace and jogged toward home.