Halftime Husband (Sassy in the City 5)

A glance in the mirror showed I had a lot of fucking nerve thinking I was getting anything from Brandon.

Eighties horror movie was no exaggeration.

I undid the clasp on my tiny purse and prayed I had packed enough manpower in there to fix my face. I didn’t. In the end I washed my face off entirely and shrugged. Brandon was getting a preview of morning me.

The last time I had used the clutch was months back, and while there wasn’t enough makeup for face repair, I found a condom tucked into the zipper portion.

I took it as a sign and shoved open the restroom door.

Chapter Two

My night, which I had assumed was going to be a torturous evening of small talk with mostly strangers, had just improved dramatically. As I had told Dakota back before Christmas, I don’t like parties.

I much prefer one on one.

I ordered a replacement martini and a glass of champagne for Dakota and tried not to grin. This was a hell of a stroke of good luck. I hadn’t thought I would ever see her again and for a couple of months I’d been kicking myself for not getting her number. That had been a fucking rookie move.

Of course, I’d found out later that I had helped her escape from her wedding to my defensive lineman. It had been an honest mistake. I was new to the franchise, the wedding wasn’t billed as a wedding, and I had no clue who Dante Marksman’s girlfriend was at the time. Hell, half his teammates hadn’t seemed to know who the bride was supposed to be. So when she’d shoved me on the elevator and told me she was trying to break up with her boyfriend and he wasn’t handling it well, I’d done the right thing and helped her get the hell out of there.

I’d kept my mouth shut to the guys on the team at the time when I found out. Then when Dante had been traded pos

tseason, and without any way to get in touch with Dakota, it had all seemed like a closed chapter.

But now that I knew she hadn’t spoken to him, and I was no longer his head coach, there was nothing in the way of me getting to know her better. A lot better. Naked better. Damn, she was fucking hot.

I watched her walking toward me, tall, confident, toned body, full tits. Even with mascara and tears running down her face, she’d been gorgeous. As she got closer, I saw she had washed her face free of the martini and the makeup. She had beautiful rich brown eyes and high cheekbones. Her blond hair looked like silk. She didn’t have the waves in it she’d had the first night we met, but both styles were equally sexy.

And that dress. It showed off her waist, and those incredibly long legs. That slit was a total tease. One false move and I would get to see everything she had and then some. I wanted to unzip that dress and watch it fall to my bedroom floor.

Except that my daughters were at home with their nanny.

That was a problem.

But I was getting ahead of myself anyway. I held out the glass of champagne for her. “Is everything okay? No permanent damage?”

“I think I’m in the clear. I did a quick eye wash in the restroom. My eyes are mildly irritated but I think most of the drink went up my nose and in my mouth.”

I studied her. Her eyes were definitely bloodshot but otherwise she didn’t look too worse for the wear. “Well. I guess it could have been worse. Maybe. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She paused with the glass halfway to her mouth. She looked at me from under her long lashes. “What do you think would be the worst drink to get thrown in your face?” she mused.

“A dirty martini,” I said wryly. “That olive juice was probably no joke.”

“I would think anything citrus would be worse. That would really sting. Beer would be sticky.”

Contemplating, I reached out and took the fresh martini the bartender was handing me. “Moonshine.”

“Moonshine?” She laughed. “You’ve never even had moonshine. How would you know?”

Her confidence amused me. “How do you know I’ve never had moonshine? I did grow up in the woods of Minnesota.”

“And then Texas,” she said.

I was surprised she remembered that from the carriage ride. It had just been a brief passing comment on my part. “Yes, I did.”

“I concede. Maybe you have tried moonshine. I have not. So I can’t judge if it would be painful in the eye or not.”

“Maybe there is no sliding scale. Maybe they all suck.”