The Man I Thought I Knew Page 8

  I never got involved with the men Carson brought around, but I actually liked Dax. He was easy to get along with, didn’t flood conversations with unnecessary words. “I was going to head home and watch the game. You want to come along? Matt is coming over.”

  He had no reaction to my request for a few seconds. “Let’s do it.”

  “Cool.”

  Matt would only watch the TV for so long before his eyes shifted back to Dax, checking him out without being even remotely discreet about it.

  Dax sat on the edge of the couch with his beer on the end table, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. He got comfortable, made himself at home, and talked about the stats like he knew exactly what he was talking about. He seemed more intelligent than the average person, based on all the subtle things he picked up about our group, the way he handled Carson. He just didn’t seem average.

  I kicked Matt discreetly then glared at him.

  He hugged his shin. “Ouch. What the fuck did you do that for?”

  “Because you have a staring problem,” I whispered.

  “Leave me alone. I’m not groping the guy.”

  Dax smiled slightly, like he wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Matt’s infatuation. “Seeing anybody, Matt?”

  “No…are you bi?”

  Dax chuckled. “No. Just curious.”

  Matt shrugged. “Here and there, but nothing serious.”

  “I don’t have a gay brother, but one of my buddies is. You want me to set something up?”

  “Is he hot?” Matt blurted.

  Dax shrugged. “He’s a good-looking guy, I suppose.”

  “Maybe we could do a double date,” Matt said.

  “I don’t think Carson would be down for that,” he said with a chuckle. “But we can go out for a drink or something. I’ll make the introduction.”

  “Do you have any hot girlfriends?” I asked hopefully.

  “I know a lot of hot girls.” Dax kept his eyes on the TV. “But none of them are friends…”

  So that would mean they would be his leftovers, and that could be awkward.

  “I thought you had your eyes on Denise anyway?” Dax turned to me, grabbing his beer and taking a drink.

  “Carson told you?” I asked in surprise.

  “I picked up on the love triangle a while ago.”

  I did remember his comments.

  “Then I asked Carson for the details,” Dax said. “That sucks, man.”

  “Yeah.” It was shitty. If I went after Denise, it would cause problems. If I got back together with Kat, I’d be unhappy. If I did nothing…I would be miserable. “Wait, you got a friend to set up with Kat? I mean, if she’s into someone else then forgets about me, it could happen.”

  “I can ask.” He turned back to the TV.

  “Perfect,” Matt said. “I’m glad Carson brought you around so we can all get laid.”

  Dax grinned then watched the TV.

  The front door opened, and Carson walked inside. She was in a black dress and heels, her hair down in curls. She hung her small purse on the hook by the door and walked farther into the apartment, not noticing Dax as she headed to the computer. “I’ve got to get a drink to get this bad taste out of my mouth.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and then took a drink.

  “Why do you have a bad taste in your mouth?” Matt asked.

  She headed into the living room. “Smoked a cigar.” She stared at the TV for a while, checking the score and seeing the activity on the field.

  “You were with the mob?” I asked, knowing she didn’t smoke regularly.

  “Yeah.” She kept her eyes on the TV as she drank her beer. “Joe gave me some good information.”

  Both of Dax’s eyebrows rose, and he set down his beer. “You know the mob? As in, the notorious Italian mob?”

  Her eyes shifted to him on the couch, visibly shocked he was there. “Dax, what are you doing here?”

  “I invited him over to watch the game,” I explained. “We ran into each other at a bar.”

  “Oh.” She moved to his side of the couch. “I don’t know how I didn’t see you. I mean, you’re the sexiest guy in the room.”

  “Whoa, excuse me?” Matt pointed at his chest.

  “I’m hot too,” I argued.

  She leaned down and let her knees sink into the couch as her arms hooked around his neck, her dress riding up a bit. She leaned in and kissed him, a short kiss that was still packed with heat. She pushed her palm against his chest and got to her feet before she adjusted her dress. Then she took a seat in the armchair, resting her beer on her thigh.

  Dax’s gaze was glued to her, indifferent to the game. He grabbed his beer and took a drink, his eyes still on her, like nothing else mattered once she was in his line of sight. He looked at her legs, watched her drink her beer.

  I was surprised Carson didn’t take the seat beside him, but that was just how she was. Affection was only lustful, and she didn’t like to share any other kind. Her heart had been permanently switched to the off position. I was hopeful Dax would get her back into the game, bringing her back from the dead, whether they ended up together or not. He could be her baby steps.

  He didn’t seem to mind being an experiment.

  When the ump called an out, Carson got to her feet and raised her arms like a bear. “What the fuck?” She moved to the TV and screamed at the guy on the field who couldn’t hear a word she said. “You’re a motherfucking piece of ass, you know that?” She fell back into the chair, shaking her head.

  “I hope that’s not how you talk to the mob.” Dax continued to watch her.

  “No.” Carson drank her beer. “They’re sweethearts.”

  “The mob are sweethearts?” Dax asked incredulously.

  She turned in her chair to look at him. “Well, not all of them, but the ones I know are…”

  He still looked surprised, but there was a smile on his lips, like he couldn’t resist how comical the situation was. “Why were you hanging out with those guys?”

  “They gave me what I needed to finish the article. So, I’m going to finish it tonight and submit that shit first thing in the morning.” She turned back in the armchair and looked at the TV again.

  Now that she was in the apartment, she was the only thing he cared about. She was the only thing he stared at. His fingers were wrapped around his empty beer, and he didn’t get up to grab another, because the view was just too nice.

  At the end of the game, Carson returned to the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Why do you always ask me that?” I gathered the empty beer bottles and carried them to the recycling can. “I’m not the wife in this relationship.”

  “Well, I can cook…but you know how that will turn out.” She opened the pantry and pulled out a box of mac and cheese.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Dax dropped his bottles in the recycling can. “Why don’t we go out?”

  “Depends.” Carson was still in her dress, the black material squeezing her hourglass frame, her tiny waist, big tits, and her peach-like ass. Her curves weren’t the product of long sessions at the gym, but rather, running around and threatening people for information. “Where are we going to go? Because I’m kind of craving Chinese.”

  “You always want Chinese,” Matt said as he rolled his eyes.

  “What do you think?” Carson turned to Dax, one hand on her hip while her arm gripped the edge of the counter. She slipped off her heels, so now she was short in comparison to his tall height. She tilted her head, her hair shifting across her chest.

  He looked down at her and said nothing, his eyes roaming over her face, staring at her lips, her cheeks, and then everything beneath that. He was never uncomfortable with his stare, was indifferent to the way he made her feel about it. Seconds passed before he answered. “Chinese is fine.”

  “I win.” She turned to us, victorious.

  “His vote doesn’t count,” I argued. “He only agreed because he�
��s sleeping with you.”

  “Uh, no.” She held up her hand. “That man knows he’s gonna get laid no matter what he says.”

  Dax grinned slightly and dropped his gaze.

  “How about Italian?” I asked.

  “Yuck.” She shook her head dramatically. “I was just in an Italian restaurant, and I associate it with cigar smoke.”

  “Burgers?” Matt asked. “There’s a Mega Shake nearby.”

  “How about this?” Dax looked at Carson. “We get Chinese. They get whatever they want.”

  That meant they would eat alone together, which was something Carson avoided at all costs. She hadn’t let a man take her out for a meal in a year. She would only spend time with them in very specific settings. But her unease quickly vanished because she knew it was an absurd way to live, that she needed to move on. “Let’s do it.”

  Eleven

  Carson

  With his elbows on the table and his body slightly shifted forward, Dax stared at me.

  I held the menu in front of me, glancing up at his hard expression every few seconds. He was in a classic tee, showing off his tanned skin, the cords over his muscles, his innate sex appeal. “What are you getting?”

  “Whatever you’re getting.”

  I dropped the menu. “Well, I like spicy food. Like, really spicy food.”

  “Same here.”

  “You don’t understand, honey.” I held up my hand. “I can eat twenty peppers in a row and want more.”

  A slight smile moved onto his lips, as if he were amused by my attitude. “I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Alright. It’s your funeral.” I put the menus at the edge of the table.

  “It just means I won’t be having pussy for dessert.”

  My eyes widened at his statement.

  He grinned as if he liked that reaction.

  With all that hotness on his lips, he wouldn’t be able to go down on me, and he was soooo good at it. “Hold on.” I grabbed the menu again and searched for an alternative.

  He chuckled. “Get what you want, sweetheart. I’ll get something else.”

  “Oh, thank god.” I threw the menu back.

  The waitress came over and we ordered. He got orange chicken, and I got the Sichuan hot chicken plate. The waters were placed in front of us, and now we were alone again. Only a couple people were in the restaurant, so it was pretty much just the two of us.

  He looked out the window for a while before he turned his dark eyes on me. “Does it bother you if I hang out with Charlie and Matt?”

  “No,” I said immediately. “I don’t own them.”

  “Good. I’m in a basketball league and need a few more players.”

  “Uh, excuse me?” I crossed my arms over my chest and copped a full attitude.

  He stared at me blankly, unsure what he’d done to provoke me.

  “I play basketball.”

  “Yeah?” A slow grin stretched across his face, the kind of smile that reached his dangerous eyes and made him less intimidating. “We’re pretty competitive. You think you can handle it?”

  “You have no idea.”

  His smile stayed, like he was truly amused by me. “Fair enough. You can handle the Italian mob, so you can handle this.”

  “Damn right.”

  The waitress brought our food and placed it in front of us.

  “Oh, this looks good.” I grabbed my fork and started to eat.

  It was the first time he had eaten in front of me like this, and he pulled his elbows off the table and ate, his masculine jaw shifting as he chewed. He had a shadow on his face, dark and coarse hair that matched his dark eyes. “You’ve got to tell me, how did you meet the mob?”

  “Oh, I hunted them down.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “They’re like the godfathers of the city. They just know shit.”

  “And why are they inclined to share anything with you?”

  “Because I never share them as a source. And they think I’m cute.”

  He smiled before he chewed again. “You are cute.”

  “And I smoke and drink with them too. They like that.”

  “Are you a regular smoker?”

  “God, no.” I shook my head in disgust. “Just a social smoker. It seems like the more I drink and the more I smoke, the more I’m taken seriously. Which is stupid, but whatever. You?”

  “You know I drink.”

  “Smoke?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “To make you look more manly, or because you actually enjoy it?”

  He considered the question as he took another bite and chewed it. Once it was down his throat, he answered. “I enjoy it. A flavored Cuban is perfect on the right occasion.”

  “Like in a strip club?” I teased.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  I kept eating, feeling the fire on my tongue, and swallowed it down with copious amounts of water.

  “Looks like it’s too spicy for you.”

  “Oh no. Definitely not.” I kept eating, feeling my eyes water, my sinuses open up and drain like a flood.

  He seemed amused but didn’t tease me more about it. “Do you feel relieved that the article is finished?”

  “No. Charlie has to read it first, which he’ll do tonight, and then Vince has to rip it apart.”

  “Vince?”

  “My boss slash editor.”

  “Well, when it hits the stands, I’ll buy a copy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  “That’s sweet.” A guy had never taken much interest in my work before. Dax was the first guy who seemed genuinely impressed by my job, impressed by what I accomplished. My success and ambition weren’t a turn-off.

  “I just want to brag to my friends about the woman I’m seeing.”

  “The woman you’re screwing,” I corrected. “We aren’t seeing each other.”

  He took a few more bites and didn’t react to what I’d said. “We’ve made a lot of progress, so I’ll let that go.”

  “What? That’s what we agreed on.”

  “I’m not going to describe you that way to my friends.”

  “You haven’t told them about the way I jump your bones?” I asked in surprise.

  He shook his head. “Not the kiss-and-tell type.”

  “Because you’re a gentleman?”

  “No. I just don’t feel the need to discuss my conquests. Bragging in all scenarios is ugly.”

  I looked down at my food as I felt the rush in my chest. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. He was so confident that he didn’t need to brag, didn’t need to talk about himself to show that he was a man. He had an old soul but a handsome smile. “I like that.”

  “You talk about me to your friends?”

  “Oh yeah. I brag all the time.”

  He kept eating, his eyes showing his amusement.

  “And trust me, they’re sooooo jealous.” I took a few more bites, became overwhelmed by the spiciness, and had to drink all of my water and some of his.

  He chuckled. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not. I love it—despite the pain.”

  “No wonder you get along with my dick so well.”

  I looked into his eyes as I felt the smile move into my eyes, liking the dirty thing he’d said and the way he pulled it off. “So, when are these games?”

  “Every Wednesday night.”

  “I think I can make that work. But I might have to chase someone down with a club once in a while.”

  “We’ve got eight or so players, so that’s fine.”

  “Great. So, you’re still going to ask Charlie and Matt?”

  “Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Does your sister play too?”

  “No.” I kept eating. “She’s more of a yoga in the park kind of chick.”

  “And you aren’t?” he asked, s
taring at me. “Your body indicates otherwise.”

  I rolled my eyes as if that line meant nothing to me, but I was incredibly flattered. “I don’t usually have time to exercise. And I’m just not a fan of the treadmill and weights. I need to chase after a ball to stay motivated.”

  “Like a dog?” he teased.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did you play ball in high school?”

  “And college.”

  “Really?” he asked, his eyebrows rising in approval. “At Harvard?”

  “All four years, honey.” I flexed my arms like a superhero. “They called me the three-pointer bitch.”

  “Now I’m really excited to play with you.”

  “And your friends better not go easy on me. I can handle an elbow to the face or the stomach. Just not the tits.” I rubbed my chest. “I love my girls.”

  “I love them too.”

  “Oh, I know…” I smiled before I took another bite.

  My phone lit up on the table with a text message, the name reading Boy Toy #1. What are you doing tonight?

  I grabbed it and texted back. I’m out with a guy right now. I set the phone back down and kept eating.

  He texted back. Alright. Talk to you later.

  I liked Brian because he never pushed for more. He was fine with the casualness. When I talked about other guys, he never cared. Sometimes he mentioned the girls he was seeing. The sex wasn’t as good and the attraction was nowhere close to what I had with Dax, but he was convenient and didn’t cause problems.

  Dax kept eating. “Does Boy Toy have an actual name?”

  I was surprised he’d read my texts, but it might have been instinctive. We were so used to our phones that whenever a screen lit up, our eyes automatically darted to the words that appeared on the surface. “Brian.”

  He didn’t have a reaction, didn’t seem angry or jealous. “You see him a lot?”

  “Not as much as I used to. After we met, he kinda became an alternate.”

  He gave a slight smile.

  “What about you? You must have women booking you out weeks in advance.”

  He’d just finished chewing his bite when he gave a chuckle. But then he kept eating and didn’t answer.