A rowdy cheer went up from the people I was sandwiched between, and the man at the table twisted around in response, dark eyes flitting up to the TV screen. His heavy brow knit together, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He was white with dark brown hair, short at the sides and curly at the top, including one curl that flopped adorably over his forehead. His five o’clock shadow was subtle and sexy against his plain white T-shirt.

That flicker burst into a tiny flame. Oh, my brain said. Followed shortly by wowza. The recognition propelled me forward, my smile already growing.

“Hey…hey…hey, excuse me,” I half yelled at Flailing Guy, trying unsuccessfully to duck again. He was like a tank. Then the sports fans behind me all stumbled at the same time, shoving me hard.

“Wait, whoa,” I started to say, just as the tank in front of me stepped to the side. The momentum spun me forward, and I dropped, not very gracefully, right into the lap of the sexy, stubbly, broad-shouldered hottie at the table.

“Oof,” I gasped, happily stunned at the warmth of his body, the muscular arms boxing me in, his thighs like steel beneath me. When our eyes met, my tentative smile transformed into a full-on, cheesy grin. His cheeks flushed immediately.

“Of all the laps in this damn city, I had to fall into yours,” I said.

“Tabitha?” he croaked out.

“The one and only,” I said with a wink. “Nice to see ya, Dean Knox-Morelli.”

5. Dean

Five

Dean

When I was eighteen years old, I took a surprise right hook to the jaw during an amateur match that sent me sprawling to the ground. Every boxer takes a bad one early in their career and learns something from it. I learned that I didn’t like having my goddamn head snapped back without warning.

But before that hook? I didn’t think you could take a punch that had you seeing stars.

That one made me a believer. I laid flat on my back that night in a world of pain, and the entire fucking solar system spun around my face.

Tabitha Tyler falling into my lap at Benny’s Bar had me believing again.

One minute I was studying the screen, pissed off at the loud asshole next to me. The next? A gorgeous redhead toppled into my arms. And even though I hadn’t seen her in years, the very second she aimed that shiny smile my way, I was nothing but a dazed teenager again.

“Of all the laps in this damn city, I had to fall into yours,” she said in her low, melodic voice.

I blinked at her. Blinked again. My mouth went dry as a desert. My body shivered with jittery nerves. I didn’t want to stare, could only take in quick glimpses of her—pale white skin, freckles and delicate tattoos, dark red hair, those big brown eyes.