Griffin Greene

“You forget something, cowboy?”

A kiss?

Thanking her for the great sex?

Giving her my phone number?

One night was all this was supposed to be. At least that was the impression I got from her last night when she grabbed me coming out of a bar on Jaco Beach and kissed me.

Has she changed her mind?

I wouldn’t be surprised. The sex was incredible. Best I ever had. It’s safe to assume she feels the same, considering how many times I made her . . . I smirk, feeling cocky over the achievement.

I’m not opposed to the idea of sharing numbers if that’s what she wants, but I’ll let her take the lead. I turn back before opening the hotel door to see the beauty propped up on her elbows, my cowboy hat on her head, and a smile as wide as Big Bend National Park with her fantastic tits on display. I’m fully distracted, so it’s hard to notice anything else. I force my gaze up to her eyes—because I’m a gentleman like that—and grin. “Oh yeah? What’s that, babe?”

“Your hat.” She taps under the brim of the hat that has traveled five continents with me over the past six years, raising it higher on her forehead. To say she looks incredible wouldn’t do this vision justice.

 With her arousal on full display, those perfect pink buds peaking for me, and a spark flashing in her green eyes, she sure tempts me to stay. “You keep it.” The words are out before I can think them through, and the surprise on her features might mirror mine. That hat was one of the few things I took with me when I left Peachtree Pass. How many years ago was that? But it feels right to give it a new home.

If I’ve learned anything from my mom’s passing or the ending to my baseball career, it’s that nothing is meant to last forever. I say, “A little something to remember me by.”

“A souvenir of our time together?” The smile doesn’t falter even when she shifts on the mattress, eyeing me like she already knows exactly who I am without so much as exchanging a name. Granted, she didn’t ask for or offer one. I didn’t either, so it seemed like a settled subject. Wrapping her arms around her bent legs, she says, “I don’t need a hat to remember you.”

Although it was a bit of a hasty start to a one-night stand, I’d only had a few beers last night and got a good look at her. She was fucking stunning. The sky threatened a summer downpour, but she stood like an angel under a neon-pink bar sign. Brown hair wild from the wind, glistening tanned skin from too much sun and dancing in the heat of Costa Rica at night, and that fine body wrapped in not much more than two scarves—one tied around her back, and another at her hip that was seriously enticing to tug loose, only to discover a bikini bottom was hidden underneath and nothing else.

“Glad to know I’m unforgettable.” I wink. I love the sound of her laughter as it fills the five-star room she’s been calling a “crash pad.” But it pales compared to her smile, which about knocks me over because it’s so stunning. It’s the kind of smile I’d like to spend more time appreciating, but I’m not sure staying is a good idea.

Names will get involved, potentially feelings or even hearts, and I’m in no position to be any good for someone like her. She was out of my league long before she kissed me, so she’ll only be disappointed if I stay.

I unlock the bolt and take hold of the doorknob. “You don’t have to rush out the door, you know?” Her guileless tone has me turning back again.

“I don’t, but don’t you think it’s best?” I study her, the way her eyes are fixed on mine, but the corners remain soft as if she still believes in fairy tales and happy endings. So beautiful.

“No.” She’s simple and direct, a lot like last night. “I don’t think it’s best. I think it’s easiest for you, though.”

At one time in my life, those words would have stung. I know when it’s time to make my exit, though. “Keep the hat. It looks better on you.”

Sitting up, she grasps for words as her expression funnels through a few emotions before landing on annoyance. Her lips purse, the pink whitening when she bites the lower one. I’m not surprised. She seems like the kind of woman who’s used to getting what she wants. “I don’t want you to go. Not yet.”

With the sheet puddled around her waist, I look her over again. She’s not wearing anything under the covers, and there’s just something about seeing this beauty in my hat that has me thinking about throwing caution to the wind with her. Again. “Why’s that?”

“Because you remind me of home.”

I don’t expect my chest to tighten, but it causes me to lower my hand. “Aren’t you in Costa Rica to get away from home?”

“I didn’t know how much I missed it until spending the night with you, cowboy.” She pulls the sheet up over her chest and wraps her arms around her legs again. “Where are you from?”

“I’m not sure we should travel down that road when we know it leads to a dead end.”

She only responds with a barely discernible nod, her eyes watching me as if she already knows our ending.

Maybe it’s that look, the one losing the hope that shone in her eyes only a minute prior, that gets me. Or how her shoulders are beginning to fold forward. As much as I’ve tried to close myself off to . . . everything, sometimes an emotion slips through. Fuck.

I rub the back of my neck, eyeing her. Those big green eyes are a trap I’ve fallen into. I lock the bolt and pull my shirt back off over my head. “Maybe just a little longer.”

When I get my jeans off and dive back into bed with her, she says, “I’ll make it worth your while.”