“He’s not
my anything,” Cree ground out. “And I think this is a good time to end our
visit. I need to get going anyway. We can talk about Dorian’s wedding later.”
“Cree,
stop. Just talk to him. It’s been years, and you both deserve some closure.”
“I got
closure when I told him to lose my damn telephone number and to go to hell.”
Cree knew
she was being a jerk, but Tristan was still a sore topic with her. Seeing him
again brought back too many memories, and they weren’t all good.
She
gathered her large bag, which doubled as a purse and laptop carrier, and then
she grabbed her trash.
“I’m out
of here,” she said and blew her sister a kiss before walking away.
If Cree
was lucky, she might be able to slip past Tristan without him seeing her. He’d
been forced to retire from the NFL, the National Football League, after an
injury, and she’d heard he had moved back to Chicago.
God, she
hoped that wasn’t true. They probably traveled in the same circles, and that
would mean there was a good chance she’d run into him more than she’d prefer.
Taking
advantage of the crowd that surrounded him, Cree moved around the perimeter of
the space and kept her head down while making her way to the door. She had
barely touched the handle before she jolted from the feel of a large hand on
her hip.
She froze,
but not before a zap of energy flowed through her body at his touch. She knew
that touch. Hell, she’d feel that touch even if she had on three layers of
clothing. Tristan had always had that effect on her.
“Cree, wait. We need to talk,” he said by way
of greeting. His deep baritone sent goosebumps racing over her skin. She didn’t
want to talk, and she sure as hell didn’t want to look at him, but she had to.
When she
turned to face him, anger nipped at every nerve in her body. Damn him for
looking so good. He was still the finest man on the face of the planet with
honey-brown skin, eyes the color of almonds with flecks of gold around his
irises, and twin dimples in his cheeks.
As if
knowing she was admiring his beautiful face, he amped up his smile, and she
cursed under her breath.
Damn those
twin dimples. The ones deep enough in his cheeks to stick her fingers in. And
damn him for flashing them so freely in public knowing they were babe magnets.
“We have
nothing to talk about,” she spat, anger lacing the words.
“On the
contrary, baby. We have a lot to discuss.”
Cree
turned from him and moved just beyond the threshold, but he held on to the back
of her jacket while he stood in the doorway. He didn’t seem to care he was
blocking the entrance, keeping anyone from entering or exiting. The small crowd
that had formed around him minutes ago was still there, vying for the attention
of the other former NFL player whose name had slipped her mind.
As for
Tristan, Cree didn’t want to talk to him. That would only encourage him to keep
showing up everywhere she went.
No, she
needed to stay as far away from the man as possible. His presence was a
hindrance to her peace of mind. It was because of him that she had trust
issues, especially when it came to men. He was the reason she had taken on the
motto—don’t let anyone get too close because in the end they’ll only betray
you.
“The old
Cree didn’t run from anything,” he said, his voice lowered. “Yet, you’ve run
from me twice in a matter of weeks.”
Her jaw
clenched and unclenched. “The old Cree would’ve already kneed you in the balls
to make you release my jacket. Either let me go or...”
Tristan
flinched, then quickly released her jacket and chuckled. “I see you’re still
mean as hell.” The words weren’t spoken in a negative way. There was humor in
his tone and in his eyes. “Please,” he said, all humor wiped from his face. “I
really do need to talk to you.”
Cree
searched his eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She almost gave in to his
request until she remembered—she hated him.
“There’s
nothing for us to discuss. As a matter of fact, forget you ever saw me, and if
you see me out and about, don’t even look at me.
“And on
that note, goodbye, Tristan.”
Now all
she had to do was forget she’d ever seen him. Which might be easier said than
done.
Don’t miss the
rest of the series! They can be read as standalones!
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
’s for an action packed read !. · Dianna Rule TX
