Page 5

S itting at the table with a handful of my teammates, I lean back in my chair slightly and stretch my back out.

I may only be twenty-six, but some days, I feel like I’m about eighty-seven.

I suppose playing a sport as rough as this one will do that though.

I’ve been a winger for the New England Bay Sharks for seven seasons now, and I’m feeling it too.

“Y’all realize this is a grown-ass man we’re celebrating tonight, right?” Tripp utters from his seat.

“Are we supposed to get Sawyer a cake with candles too? Maybe a pinata?”

“I love pinatas,” I say with a shrug.

“Me too, Uncle Ry,” Logan’s daughter, Amelia, says, her eyes wide and a big smile on her adorable face.

“Talmage, you sound like Kolburne, and he’s not even here.” Logan grins, elbowing Tripp in the side.

“Why are the two of you so fu—” He stops himself from cursing, glancing down at his daughter, who’s watching him with hawk eyes, before bringing his attention back to Tripp.

“Why are you so grouchy, Trippy?”

Tripp and Kolt are damn near the same person.

Serious. Grumpy. Intense.

Extremely intimidating.

“Daddy, where is Uncle Kolty?” Amelia says, looking around.

“Uncle Kolty had some things to do, so he couldn’t make it,” he tells her, ruffling the top of her hair.

“We’ll go visit him real soon though.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling at her dad before she goes back to coloring.

Kolt was injured weeks ago during a game—so badly that he literally had a heart attack on the ice.

I guess the one good thing that came out of it was that his estranged wife came back to Portland to take care of him while he healed.

He’s been coming to practices lately, and word on the street is …

he and Paige are working things out.

So, even though his season has pretty much been derailed, there is a silver lining after all because no one loves his wife more than that dude.

Maybe having her back will make him less grumpy.

“Look, I’m not trying to sound like Tripp, and I’m not complaining about being here or anything,” I say, waving a hand toward the long table.

“But it’s not the big three-o or anything. He’s turning twenty-four, I’m pretty sure. So, why is he throwing himself a huge celebration?” I glance at Logan because he’s the one who told everyone to be here.

“Hey, I don’t get it either, but don’t shoot the messenger. And also, Maci is off visiting her mom for a few days, so Amy and I are all about a free dinner, coming here tonight.”

Out of everyone on the team, I think I’m the closest to Smith.

That makes it even weirder that he didn’t tell me about this party; instead, he had Logan tell everyone.

They’re close and all—shit, we’re all close—but still, I don’t get it.

What am I even saying?

I hooked up with his baby sister, and I sure as shit didn’t tell him that.

I guess those in glass houses should probably keep their stones to themselves.

Amelia’s entire face lights up, and she quickly wiggles out of her chair and starts running.

When we all look to see where she’s headed, we see her hug Smith as he walks closer to us.

There’s a puzzled expression on his face when he takes us all in, but he tries to hide it and picks Amelia up, carrying her back to us.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Smithy!” Amelia chimes before throwing her little arms around his neck and hugging him again.

“Thank you, pretty girl.” He smiles at her.

I can’t hear what else he says because when I look behind them and my eyes take in Saylor walking toward us, my dick twitches in my pants, and my mouth waters.

Good. Fucking. God. She’s so hot.

Visions of the short time we shared flash through my brain.

She took me for a fucking ride.

A wild one at that. It was fast, but fucking hell, it was furious.

Saylor took what she needed from me, and she left not one single fucking crumb.

There’s no missing the startled and quickly annoyed expression that covers her face like a damn blanket as she openly gawks at us, and when Smith sets Amelia down and she runs back to her seat, he looks at his sister and frowns.

“I didn’t realize you’d invited, like … half the team,” he grumbles.

“I thought it was just me and you.”

Her eyes widen, and she puts a hand on her hip.

“You think I did this? You think I would invite your team? Especially after—” She clamps her mouth shut, making sure to never look my way.

“I can assure you, I didn’t tell a soul.”

Even though they are attempting to speak quietly enough to not have everyone in their conversation, most of us at the end of the table can hear.

My eyes fly to Logan, and I give him an inquisitive look.

“Really, Sterns? You’re the one who put this party on for Smith?” I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips because this is so Logan.

Always over the top.

“No,” he says quickly, waving his hand toward Smith.

“You said your birthday was here at six thirty. So, I went and told everyone I knew you’d want to invite.”

“No, dude,” Smith deadpans.

“I said I was meeting my sister for dinner for my birthday. I didn’t tell you to rally the troops and throw me a damn party.”

Logan swallows, subtly nodding his head up and down.

“Oh, uh … my bad.” He jerks his head toward Amelia, who is luckily not paying any attention.

“But, like … since we’re already here …”

My eyes shift back to Saylor while Logan and Smith work out whatever details they are trying to.

She stands there, clearly uncomfortable.

I’m sure she has no idea who has seen the footage of her and who hasn’t.

That has to be nerve-racking.

But she won’t even look at me, and I can’t help but wonder if that asshole Rowan told her some shit about me seeing the video.

I mean, I saw a few seconds of it, but I didn’t mean to.

And I had no idea it was her.

Maybe she’s just feeling awkward because we hooked up recently.

Who knows?

She used me, and I liked it.

Who am I kidding? I loved it.

Once it’s all settled and Smith and Saylor finally take their seats, it’s not lost on me that she chose to sit at the seat farthest away from me, all while never looking my way.

I know she’s trying to pretend our night together in my truck didn’t happen.

That’s all right though.

She can’t avoid me forever.

For the entirety of this dinner, I’ve felt Ryder’s stare on me.

It’s annoying because I have no interest in a repeat.

I mean, have I thought about it?

Sure. Have I thought about it late at night when I’m alone in my bed?

Maybe.

Will I go there again?

Fuck no. I don’t care how ginormous his willy is or how well he uses it.

I’ve turned a new leaf.

And I’m no longer hooking up with my brother’s best friends because, you know …

it’s the right thing to do.

“Dude, what the fuck is the deal with Epscott?” my brother says to some of the guys.

Instantly, my stomach is in knots.

I avoid Tripp’s gaze because there’s no way in hell I’d risk looking at him and falling apart—again.

I mean, the man was at the bar the other night.

He already knows I threw myself at Ryder hours after he told me the truth.

“I’m not sure. Coach has been pretty hush-hush over it,” Logan answers with a mouthful of food.

“He’s a fucking creep though.” He looks at me, cringing in the most adorable way because …

it’s Logan and everything he does is adorable.

“Sorry, Saylor. I know you two had a thing.”

“Pfft, please. You could cover him in cooking oil and set him on fire in front of me, and I’d cheer like we were at a hibachi grill, watching our steaks be cooked. Trust me on that.”

Logan stares blankly at me, blinking a few times before nodding.

“Good to know.”

I feel Ryder’s and Tripp’s stare on me, and I shift uncomfortably in my chair, ready to get the hell out of here.

“Is there cake?” Amelia says, looking right at me because her dumbass father made her think I was throwing a damn birthday party, and of course, at parties, there’s cake.

Either way, I’m grateful for the interruption because it’ll get me out of this chair and away from Ryder and Tripp.

She’s so cute. How in the world could I say no to that face?

I glance toward the bar, where there are a few bartenders—handsome ones at that—chatting while the bar is mostly empty.

“You know what? Let me see what I can do, babe.” I wink at her and scooch my chair backward.

Even as I’m walking away, I can still feel a set of eyes on my back.

Well, on my ass, to be precise.

Strutting right to the counter, I lean forward, coyly tilting my head to the side when the hotter bartender of the two smiles at me.

“Hi there,” I say, keeping my voice silky smooth as he walks in front of me.

“It’s my big brother’s birthday. And while I don’t really care if he gets cake, there’s an adorable child over there who really wants some. I don’t suppose you two would be able to find something in the back, would you?”

“I don’t think there’s a random cake in the back,” one says with a smirk.

Suddenly, there’s a body beside mine.

“You know, that’s probably something you could have asked our waiter,” a deep voice drawls, and I don’t even have to turn my head to know that Ryder is beside me—all too close.

“Well, I suppose I could have,” I respond.

“But seeing as these fellas look like a treat, I figured they’d know where to find one.”

Hotter bartender grins, finishing wiping a glass before setting it down.

“Let me mention it to the kitchen. I’m sure they can figure something out.”

His teeth are incredibly white against his flawless skin.

He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine, but what’s annoying is that the guy beside me is still hotter.

Stupid hot-boy genes.

“Amazing.” I wink. “Thanks so much.”

The second they disappear, I’m ready to bolt, but Ryder isn’t having it.

He leans in closer. “Was I that bad the other night that you can’t spare me a look?” He pauses.

“Or maybe I was that good that you can’t look at me without blushing?”

“Don’t be so cocky, Pretty Boy,” I coo, craning my neck to face him.

“I’m staring at you right now, big fella. So, no, I don’t think it’s the latter.”

His smirk only grows, and his eyes glimmer with amusement.

He smells delicious, and it’s annoying as hell because I want to hate this man.

“See, I didn’t take you for a liar, Saylor Sawyer. But now I know you are one.” He rolls his tongue over his lips, and my stupid eyes dart to watch, drinking it in.

“Because the claw marks you left on my shoulders when you were riding my cock? They painted a different picture.”

My back straightens, and I roll my eyes.

“Relax,” I coo. “I was in the drama club all through school,” I lie through my teeth because—let’s face it—I had a nice time with this man.

But my brother is only twenty feet away, and I’d prefer he not catch on that I used his best friend to make his ex-teammate mad.

Before I know it, his lips are against my ear.

“Your pussy squeezed my dick like it was trying to cut it off from my body because it was greedy to keep it for itself, babe. And your clit? Fucking throbbing so hard that I felt like there was a vibrator between us.”

And now it’s throbbing again.

I swallow harshly. Usually, I can keep myself in check.

I can act like the girl who is unaffected.

I’m good at putting on a show.

So good, in fact, that my mom has always teased me that I should have gone into acting instead of nursing.

But right now, I’m struggling to keep my composure.

Between his scent and his body being so close …

my brain feels fuzzy.

Still, I push my shoulders back and stand taller.

“Calm down, Ry-Ry. You seem desperate.” Winking, I pat his shoulder.

“But, yes, I’ll give your ego a snack. I enjoyed myself that night.”

Walking away, I can’t help but grin foolishly on my way back to the table.

I know I need to stay away from him, but it might be harder than I originally thought.

I’m so fucking lost in thought that I hardly realize everyone is leaving until I’m sitting at the table alone and everybody else is walking away.

The last hour has passed in a blur.

I vaguely remember the waiter bringing out a bunch of lava cakes and passing them around.

I didn’t take one, but instead, I gawked at Saylor while she ate hers, licking the spoon clean with a tongue that I couldn’t stop picturing lapping at my cock.

Smith turns around and frowns, stopping in his tracks while his sister peeks over her shoulder, rolls her eyes, and keeps walking.

“You good, man?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling together.

“I’ll be in the car,” Saylor singsongs, giving me an amused look before basically skipping toward the door.

She’s toying with me, and I can’t decide if I like it or not.

Pushing my chair back, I stand and head toward him.

“Yeah, I’m good. Tired, is all.” I elbow his side once I reach him.

“We’re getting old, you know.”

“Fuck right off with that nonsense.” He punches my shoulder.

“You sure you’re good? You were quiet for a lot of dinner.” He pauses, huffing.

“A dinner that I can’t believe Sterns fucking created into a birthday party.”

“Hey, cut him some slack. His old lady is out of town, and you know he can’t cook for shit,” I joke, but his eyes remain on mine, telling me he’s still wondering why I was quiet.

“I’m good, I swear.”

He doesn’t seem to believe me, but he simply shrugs.

“All right then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

As we walk outside, I can’t push away the guilt that’s rising in my body.

Smith is my best friend, and not only did I hook up with his sister, but I am also keeping a secret from him about what Rowan did.

If he ever found out that Rowan had taken that video of Saylor and shown our teammates …

he’d never forgive me for not telling him.

But, Christ, I’m in an impossible situation right now because I’m sure she doesn’t want her brother to know—not to mention, he’ll think I hooked up with her because I’d seen it, which isn’t true.

And then there’s the other side of things, the one where …

I saw a few seconds of the video, and she’s eventually going to find out.

When she does, she’s going to feel betrayed.

I need to stay clear of her—that much I know.

And maybe, eventually, I’ll stop thinking about her, and I’ll quit imagining her mouthy lips wrapped around my aching cock.

I hope so anyway. Because between everything Rowan did and her brother being my best friend, I’d be wise to cut my losses and walk away now.

That’s what I’m going to do. Yeah. For sure.