Page 89 of Wicked Player
She laughs. “Don’t you dare.”
“Okay, okay… well, there’s not much to tell anyway. It’s not a great love story like yours.”
“I’m sure it is,” she says, “or perhaps the start of one.”
I shrug. “Well, I don’t know about that… anyway,” I go on. “We hit it off, he and I, and we spent the night talking.”
“Lovely,” she says, completely riveted. “Tell me about him. I bet he’s handsome.”
“Oh… he’s definitely handsome,” I gush, feeling like a junior high girl with a crush. “He’s tall and dark, with thick wavy dark hair and gorgeous lips, and the most amazing blue eyes you’ll ever see.”
“Wow, he sounds like a gem.”
“Oh, he is alright. That’s the problem. All the ladies love him.”
She nods. “I see… a real Casanova, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, Everett was a Casanova too,” she points out, “ and it certainly all worked out with us.”
Well, I’m sure Everett didn’t have harem parties and two sex rooms, I want to say.
“Anyway, he came to my place to watch a movie with Christian, and we all had a great time. And then I attended another party at his house, and we…” My words trail off, and I’m blushing a little. “…you know?”
She laughs out loud. “You put the hot dog in the bun, sorta speak,” she whispers naughtily.
“Yes… exactly.”
“And that’s when things got complicated?”
“Yeah, well, that’s when I fell for him officially,” I clarify.
She raises a brow. “That good, eh?”
You have no idea, Judy.
“And so what is the problem?” she asks, confused.
“Well, he invited me for an official date last weekend, and he made me a wonderful dinner, and we watched my favorite movie, but then I remembered… what a player he really is, and he and I can never be together because I’m just not a no-strings-attached kind of girl. With me, it’s all or nothing.”
She nods. “You want him all for yourself.”
Suddenly, I’m feeling greedy. “Well… yeah.”
She smiles. “I understand… I’m a romantic too.”
I enjoy another sip of my tea. “This is a man who throws parties every month, ladies-only parties, if you know what I mean.”
Her jaw hangs.
“I know, right? Talk about a player.”
“You’re talking about Colton Rossi,” she blurts. “The notorious Colton Rossi.”
Yep… even eighty-six-year-old women know of him. That’s how much of a player he is. “The one and only. Have you been to one of his parties too, Judy?” I tease.
Her smile fades, and she is completely lost in thought. “Such a wonderful boy.”
