Page 97 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

Just long, bare legs accentuated by the shirt that falls mid-thigh.

“The sweatpants were too tight to be comfortable for sleeping,” she says, pulling down on the bottom of the T-shirt, her cheeks flushing red at my obvious staring.

I’m saved from doing or saying something completely stupid or irresponsible when room service arrives, the loud knock at the door making me jump, a reminder of reality. A reality that doesn’t involve me stepping over a line with Lila.

We sit at the table to eat, both staring out at the snow squall.

“I have a sinking feeling we’re not getting out of here tomorrow morning either.

” She looks a little worried, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to worry about things you have no control over, like the weather, but I don’t.

I have to remember it’s not my job to take care of her.

She doesn’t want that from me. “How’s your food?

” she asks, interrupting my morose thoughts.

“The burger’s actually pretty tasty for hotel fare.”

“That’s good,” she says, spearing at her macaroni and cheese dish. “Mine’s really rich. Decadent.”

The way she says that last word has me looking at her mouth as she takes a bite.

It has me thinking of other things she could do with her mouth.

I clear my throat and refocus on my french fries.

When I look back up, she’s staring at me, contemplating something.

I worry she’s about to ask me why I pushed her away after we kissed.

I really fuckin’ worry what my answer will be.

She surprises me with something completely different. “Why are you so against women in sports?”

A huff of a laugh escapes the back of my throat. “I’m not.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that lie, Tripp Blackburn.”

“Why?”

“Because I heard what you said about Laura. You didn’t think the Crush should have hired a female Assistant GM.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You asked Max why he hired a woman for that job. I heard you as I was walking out of his office that first day.”

“Actually, all I said was—and I quote—You hired a woman for that job. He told me she has good experience, and I left it at that.”

“It was the tone. An emphasis on woman, like he’d hired a two-headed dog or something.”

My resulting laugh is more frustration and annoyance than amusement.

“Look, I can’t say anything without the feminist police coming to arrest me.

I’ve got nothing against Laura Gallant. As long as my paycheck shows up in my bank account, I’m golden.

I don’t give a shit who sits in what seat in the back office. ”

“I think that’s a cop-out of an answer. Saying you’ve got nothing against someone is almost as bad saying, I’m not sexist, but… Plus, do you only care about money? Don’t you care about the people who make the machine work?”

“I care more about the money than the little cogs in the machine,” I admit. “I’m there to play. I do my job, they do theirs. It all works.”

Lila is quiet for a moment, thinking about what I’ve just said as she eats some of her dinner.

I refill my wine and then offer the bottle up to her.

She holds out her glass so I can top it off for her and takes a sip.

“So, I guess I understand being focused on your own role on the ice. Performance as an elite athlete is obviously top of mind. And the back office stuff probably affects you a lot less than those of us in the back office.”

“Those statements are all true.”

“What do you think about Jenn playing football?”

“Like, do I approve of her playing? Or what do I think of her as a player?”

“Whichever. Both?”

I think for a minute. “Well, I don’t think she gives two shits if I approve of her playing. She’s pretty decent at it, though, always has been. I mean, will it be a long-term career option for her?” I lift a shoulder and make a noncommittal noise.

“Why wouldn’t it be a career option for her? Professional sports has worked out for you.”

“Sure, but I get paid a truckload more than she ever will.”

“And why is that, do you think?” Lila presses.

I stare at her for a long time. She’s baiting me because she already has an answer in mind. “Why don’t you tell me, Liles? It’s obvious you’ve got an opinion on this one.”

She pulls her hair back, then up on her head, then lets it loose again. “I think it’s because women in sports are not as valued as men.”

“Well, I think it’s because people do not look for women’s football on ESPN. They lose their shit if they can’t find their favorite NFL game, but I’ve literally never heard a single person ask where the DC Women’s game is on their cable guide.”

“Does that make the athletic contributions of women less valuable? Their marketability? Their televisability?”

“Televisability? Is that a word now?” I ask, chuckling.

We’ve both had several glasses of wine by now, our meals long eaten. I put a chocolate crème br?lée between us to share, and she digs in without a thought. I can’t take my eyes away from watching her enjoy the creamy dessert.

“Why do you have such a hard time with women’s issues?” she asks, licking her spoon in a highly distracting way.

“I don’t. But I did grow up with a mom who didn’t work.”

“See, that’s the thing, though. She did work,” Lila insists.

“How do you figure?”

“She raised five kids, dude. That’s work.”

“We were perfect angels. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lila rolls her eyes at this as she takes another bite of the dessert. “Do you hate it when women work?”

“I do not hate it; I just grew up with my mom at home. She ran the show at our house. She made sure we got what we needed and where we needed to go. She organized our lives. I thought it was just what women and mothers did.”

“Sure, so do a lot of people, which is why there’s such inequity in the average heterosexual household now.

The woman is still expected to make dinner and keep the house up and get the kids to their activities—oh, and also work forty hours a week or more.

And the man works and then goes golfing or whatever. ”

“Now that’s sexist,” I say. “You’re assuming the men don’t share any of the responsibility in any of that.”

“Fair, but you get the point. Women are undervalued. As athletes. As wage earners. As homemakers. Your mom was undervalued if you think she didn’t work at all.”

I sigh. “Lila. I think you’re trying to bait me and it’s hurting my brain. I think I’m done with this conversation.”

“Do you hate women?”

My jaw drops. “What?”

“Just curious.”

I shake my head, shocked at the question. “I do not. That’s a stupid question.”

She attacks the dessert and shoves another bite in her mouth as I swirl my wine around in its glass. I look out the window and see easily another two inches of snow on the ground since we started this conversation.

“I think you might be right about being stuck here more than just a night,” I say, just to steer the conversation away from whatever corner she’s trying to back me into.

She finishes the dessert as I stand up and go to the other end of the windows, looking out toward the airport, where no cars move, no planes fly. I just watch the quiet darkness, thinking about her bold question. Do I hate women? No. I can’t figure out why she could ever think such a thing of me.

It’s not long before Lila stands and takes a place next to me. Just being near her, barely an inch between us as she looks out at the storm at my side, makes my cock go semi-hard.

No, I don’t hate women. Least of all her.

Maybe I’ve had too much wine.

“You know,” she says quietly, “I had the biggest crush on you for such a long time. I was, like, thirteen and you were this pro player, so strong and good and successful. I swooned a little every time you came around.”

I can’t help my heart from the little stutter it does to hear this admission from her.

“I must have turned out to be a really disappointing crush, since you find me so annoying now,” I manage to say, trying to keep things light. I can’t bear to look at her, to see that disappointment in living color.

“I do find you annoying,” she says. “And infuriating. But also…ridiculously attractive and so, so sexy.”

It’s an involuntary response to turn to her, to search her face for the truth. I mean, she did kiss me, but still. It still feels impossible that she could find a man like me attractive.

“You know I’m too old for you. I’ve always been too old for you.”

“I’m an adult. You’re an adult. I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions about who I’m with.”

“We’re practically family, Lila,” I argue in desperation. “It would be…weird.”

“We are not family, though. Our families are friends. We have known each other a long time, yes. But we are not family.”

“I…” I can’t think of anything other than her eyes, her mouth, her hair.

“Your sister said you had a crush on me when I was a teenager. Was that true?”

I can’t answer her. I won’t, because it feels creepy and wrong to admit I was a grown man who had the hots for a teenager.

She was sixteen when I first noticed the young woman she was becoming.

Sixteen. I was nearly thirty, and that freaks me out like nobody’s business.

So, no, I won’t tell her how I felt, how I wanted her all the way back then. How I want her still.

But I also can’t stop staring at her, so close to me, I’ll bet her mouth tastes like wine and chocolate.

I want to see how soft her skin is, her bare legs so tantalizing under that big shirt.

I can’t stop looking because she is not sixteen anymore.

She is, indeed, grown. An adult woman so gorgeous it makes my heart pound dangerously hard being this close to her.

I can only hope it doesn’t stroke out between now and when we leave this room.

Lovely Lila Jayne is no little girl…anymore.