Page 7 of Beg Me

My heartbeat picks up as a shot of adrenaline fires through my veins. I thought that writing off men would make them less of an issue in my life. But since I vowed not to date anyone, it’s become more of a talking point than anything.

I don’t want to hate men. I want to love them. I want to be a great girlfriend, maybe even an amazing wife someday. And I miss dick so much that I dream about it. But when every relationship ends in failure because of the same problems, there doesn’t seem to be any point in continuing the chaos.

He studies me for a moment, the playful grin slipping from his expression. “I’m sorry that’s been your experience.”

“Me, too. And it’s not like I ask for much, you know? The bare minimum would be more than I expect at this point.”

“The bare minimum is a failure in my books,” he says. “I’m either all in or not in at all.”

My lips twist.

“That wasn’t an innuendo,” he says, chuckling.

I know it wasn’t, but I also love that he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I glance up and find that the crowd has mostly vanished. A few stragglers are moseying through the market, but for the most part, everyone has gone. I expected as much with today’s temperatures… and I’m not mad about it.

“Look, Jory, I have a lot going on, and I need to focus,” I say, stacking the napkins into a neat pile so I can pack them away.

“Do you have anything you’re working on that I could help with? If you’ll recall, I’m about to have a lot of time on my hands.”

“Unfortunately, no, you can’t help me with anything,” I say, pulling boxes from beneath the table so I can load the leftover jam into them. “I have to find someone I have great chemistry with who can play pickleball on a level that will win the Sugar Days tournament.” I look up at him. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

He holds his hands out. “Um, hello?”

“What?”

“I’m a professional athlete, and unless I’m reading this all wrong, we have excellent chemistry.”

I roll my eyes. “Unless I’m reading this all wrong, the chemistry you’re referring to has nothing to do with pickleball.”

His grin deepens.

“Don’t.” I hold up a finger and shake my head. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

“Come on …”

“Since you’re a professional athlete, then you should know that the chemistry between two people in an athletic situation is special. You can’t force it. You either have it, or you don’t.” My hands go to my hips. “This tournament is important to me, and I have to win.”

“I could pretty much guarantee that if I’m your partner.”

I stare at him before pulling my gaze away and continuing to pack the boxes. He makes sense, and I hate that. It would be so much easier if I didn’t feel like we might have some chemistry—and maybe even some outside the bedroom. And that’s exactly why he can’t be my partner.

My focus has to be on the game and not on his probably hot shirtless body working out next to me. I’ve seen Gray shirtless. There’s zero doubt that Jory’s body is beyond delicious. Besides, he seems like the kind of man who wants to take control and lead. Normally, I find that sexy, but on the pickleball court, I’m the alpha. Something tells me we’d wind up in a battle between ourselves, and I can’t risk being distracted and losing to Jasper.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say. “But I have a guy trying out on Monday evening, and I have a feeling we’ll be a good match.”

I hope. Adam Cartwright emailed me last week about possibly joining me in the tournament. I did my due diligence and poked around on the internet. It turns out that he was a standout basketball player a few years ago and played tennis for two years of high school. It’s not the greatest résumé, but I can absolutely work with it.

“Fine. But when you change your mind later, you’re going to beg.”

I lift my chin, his gaze grabbing mine and holding it tight. “That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s going to be very cute. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all,” I say, smiling at him.

“That’s your own fault.” He winks. “I gotta go find my kid. It was nice meeting you, Markie.”