Victor (Chicago Blaze 3)

“Hanging out?” He gives me a skeptical look.

“Yep.”

“That’s code for casual sex. You better not be having casual sex with her, man.”

“Why not?”

His jaw tenses and his eyes widen. Anton’s giving me his pissed off face. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“You know what, asshole. Did you sleep with her?”

“No. Fuck, what are you, the sex police?”

“Don’t go there, Vic. She’s a really nice girl. And she’s got a major thing for you. Don’t use her and break her heart. She’s not someone you do that to.”

I shift sideways in my seat, taken aback. “You don’t know shit. I’ve never touched her.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

“What, because I hurt every woman I encounter?”

“Can you see yourself marrying her? Being with no one but her for the rest of your life?”

I open my mouth to speak, but close it again, at a loss for words. “No, but—”

“Then keep your hands off her. I can tell from only spending a couple hours with her at dinner the other night that Lindy’s not a casual sex girl. You want casual sex, find someone else.”

Luca turns around again and chimes in, once again only poking his eyes over his seat. “I completely agree with him.”

“Fuck off,” I say, agitated. “Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?”

I turn back to glare at Anton. “Look, I have no intention of using Lindy for casual sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m calling it like it is, man. You don’t usually go for women like her.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Because she works in Concessions? I don’t give a shit about that.”

“No, because she’s nice. And she likes you. You prefer women like Kristen Moore, who you have to chase and try to impress. Women who make you feel like you’re barely holding onto them.”

I clench my teeth and don’t respond. Instinct is telling me to argue with him, to tell him I like women who are sweet, smart and happy. But…he’s right.

Fuck, he’s right. Not just about Kristen, but all the women I’ve had relationships with. I’ve got a thing for chasing women who seem unattainable. Models, actresses…I dated an actual Swiss heiress once.

Why do I do that?

“Promise me your pants will stay zipped around her,” Anton says.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Whatever, yeah.”

The flight attendant comes to see if we want anything, and I order a Jack and Coke. I’m still abstaining from drinking, other than this one time. Right now, I need something to calm my nerves.

I put on my headphones and zone out for the rest of the flight. I wasn’t expecting to find out today that I’m even more fucked up than I realized, but there you have it…I am.* * *By the time Lindy knocks on my apartment door later that evening, I’ve got my shit together. At least, I think I do. But when I open the door and see her smiling at me, I feel a hint of something.

She’s got her hair in a high ponytail, rather than pulled back at the nape of her neck like usual. She has a light dusting of makeup on and she’s wearing jeans that hug her in all the right places.

Fuck, I need to get laid. This is a nice girl that I refuse to hurt. I can’t get hard for her.

“Hey, come on in,” I say, opening the door wide and stepping aside.

“Thanks.” She holds up a bottle of wine. “I brought this, though I’m not sure if you’ll like it or not.”

She brought alcohol. Damn. I’ve sent the wrong signals. My guilt is immediate and overpowering.

“That’s nice, but you didn’t need to bring anything,” I say, taking the bottle and setting it on my coffee table.

“I wanted to, since you said you’re ordering in dinner.”

“I can take your coat,” I offer.

She takes off her worn, lightweight black coat and passes it to me. “Thanks.”

I go hang it up in the hall closet, and when I return to the living room, Lindy’s looking out the windows at my city view. It’s not the best view money can buy or anything, but it’s not bad.

“This is so nice,” she says.

“Thanks.”

I fold my hands in front of me and then unfold them, shuffling on my feet. Damn, am I uncomfortable right now, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt that way around Lindy.

“Hey, can we…talk about something?” I give her a sheepish grin.

“Of course.” She turns to face me. “Is Jonah doing okay?”

I nod. “As well as can be expected, I think. When I find out about the services they’re holding, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. I’d like to go.”

I hold my hand out, gesturing to one of the leather chairs at the end of the couch. She sits down in one chair and I sit in the other and turn to face her.