Page 24 of Famous Last Words (New York Thunder #1)
CHAPTER 24
ROBBIE
“ C ome on, man!” Dallas throws his head back on a groan as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “A win against Charlotte in fucking overtime calls for at least one beer.”
I pull on my suit jacket to the tune of every single person in the locker room cheering at Dallas’s suggestion. And I suppose I can’t blame them. For a lot of them, this is their first winning streak.
“Fine. One drink,” I relent with an eye roll. “I need to check with Fran first, though.”
Some dickhead in the back makes the sound of a cracking whip but I ignore it because, frankly, he has a point. I need to check with Fran ? Who the fuck am I? Even I’m disgusted with myself.
With a huff, I grab my bag and hitch it up on my shoulder, following Dallas out into the tunnel where we’re stopped by a few over-eager kids asking for photos and autographs. I take a Sharpie from someone, but as I look up, my eyes immediately land on Fran, and I feel my brows knitting together because what the hell is she wearing? A bright pink pant suit? She knows the deal; she’s supposed to wear my jersey to games. Why the hell is she dressed like a younger, hotter Hilary Clinton?
After finishing up with the kids and stopping to chat to a few VIPs hanging out in the tunnel, Dallas and I make our way over to Fran, Hannah, and who I can only assume to be Fran’s friend, Vera, and her boyfriend, Tyler.
With a crease still etched between my brows, I sidle in close to Fran, wrapping an arm around her waist as I lean in. “Running for office?” I murmur close against her ear.
She looks up at me, obviously confused.
“Nice pant suit.” I smirk.
She offers me a deadpan look, but I don’t miss the tinge of pink that flushes her cheeks, the small smile that ghosts her lips. And I don’t know, but I fucking love that I have this effect on her.
“I was held up by stupid ass… work ,” she says quickly with a dismissive wave of her hand. But if I’m not mistaken, there’s something else there. Something she’s trying purposely to avoid. “I didn’t get a chance to go home and change. Sorry.”
I hate that she just apologized to me. It actually makes me feel sick. She doesn’t need to apologize to me. I was just playing. But instead of pressing her, I nod and make a mental note to ask her about work when we’re not surrounded by people.
Fran clears her throat and plasters a broad smile on her face. “Robbie? Dallas? This is my friend, Vera, and her boyfriend, Tyler.”
I’m forced to turn back to the group, shaking Tyler’s hand when it’s thrust into my face.
“Oh my God, man, that was such a good game!” he practically shouts, his eyes wide with excitement, and I can’t help but grin. “The way you baited Rollins into dropping his gloves and then skated away grinning while he was escorted to the box was fucking priceless.”
I bite back my own cocky grin. “Rollins is a renowned instigator baiter. Dude thought he had me.”
I swear Tyler looks at me like he has hearts in his eyes.
“Yo, did you ask Fran?” Dallas smacks me in my chest.
Fran arches a brow, glancing dubiously between me and Dallas. “Ask Fran what?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been coerced into going out for a celebratory drink with the guys.”
“Oh, okay…” Fran says, and I’m not totally sure, but I almost sense a hint of disappointment in her tone. “You don’t need to ask me.” She laughs. “Have fun.”
“Franny,” Dallas interjects, pushing me aside and snaking his arm around Fran’s shoulders. “As the girlfriend of our undisputed MVP, you of course are expected to accompany us for said celebratory drinks.” He flashes his trademark playboy grin. “Someone’s gotta keep the puck bunnies away.”
Fran meets my gaze, and I almost laugh at the sheer panic in her eyes.
“And y’all are welcome to join us, too!” Dallas says, slapping Tyler on his shoulder, and I’m pretty sure the dude’s about to spontaneously combust.
“If Fran goes, I’ll go,” Vera says, looking at Fran.
I shove Dallas out the way, wrapping my arm back around Fran and whispering, “Just one drink.”
“Will there really be puck bunnies?” She glances up at me, big blue eyes fraught with worry.
And I know what she’s really scared of. She’s scared of the women from the internet, the ones who have gone out of their way to hate on her for no other reason than the fact that she’s dating me. If I’m honest, it’s those women who give the puck bunnies a bad rep. Bunnies are harmless most of the time; the crazy fangirls are the real problem.
I squeeze her waist, ducking my head so my lips brush against her ear. “You don’t have to worry with me around. I got you.”
We head to a hole-in-the-wall bar in Hell’s Kitchen with a small neon sign hanging over the door that displays a flashing Ned’s . Inside, it’s all dark and dingy, with brick walls, concrete floor, worn leather booths. There are some high-top tables dotted about, a couple of 80s-style pinball machines set up in the back next to a pool table, and an old jukebox playing some killer classics.Apparently, this is where the guys go for a low-key drink after a home game when they don’t feel like being bothered, and I can see why; apart from a few welcome cheers and the occasional congratulatory slap on the back, we’re otherwise left alone.
The beer Dallas handed me the moment we walked in over an hour ago remains untouched, held in my hand at all times to give off the illusion of drinking. Thankfully, no one’s noticed. I sit in a booth with Logan, Dallas, Tyler, and one of our second line d-men, Happy, shooting the shit, while Fran, Hannah and Vera play a game of pool, which is really just them shooting random balls all over the table and anywhere but into the pockets. It’s entertaining but also nice that I get to watch Fran bend over because in those pants—man, her ass is something else. And, since I’m technically sitting here in front of everyone as her boyfriend , I can get my fix without trying not to get caught.
Yes, I have come to terms with the fact that Fran fucking Keller is hot and not the bane of my existence that my fragile, teenage boy mind made her out to be all those years ago.
“Another drink?” I ask the guys, pushing out of the booth.
Of course, they all cheer, and I cast them a grin before turning and heading for the bar, which is when my gaze lands on Fran as she’s bending over. I catch a glimpse down the front of her suit jacket and holy shit. She’s not wearing anything under it. Not even a bra. I almost stumble over my own size thirteens. Just as I collect myself, I realize she’s looking at me and not at the ball she’s aiming for, and a knowing smirk ghosts her pretty lips .
With a hard exhale, I force myself to look away, pushing my hair back from my face. Fuck me .
“Same again, Mason?” The bartender lifts his chin at me.
“Uh, yeah.” I raise my full, warm bottle of beer in the air, leaning over the counter so he can hear my lowered voice. “Can you get me a fresh one?”
He eyes the untouched Miller Lite, his brow furrowing momentarily before realization settles across his face. With a kind, understanding smile, he says, “Sure thing.”
Resting my forearms against the counter, I look at all the sports memorabilia lining the walls, posters signed by some of the greats, and I can’t help but smile because this is the kind of bar I can handle. I hate all those pretentious hotspots, wall-to-wall d-bags and people just there to be seen; this is my kind of place.
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
I turn my head to find Fran’s face right there next to me, her hand snaking around my back and resting dangerously close to my ass. And it’s only now that I’m noticing just how rosy her cheeks are, eyes slightly glazed, lids droopier than normal.
I duck my head a little closer, offering her a knowing grin. “You drunk, Keller?”
Her face twists adorably as if in serious thought. “Nah, just a little tipsy,” she shrugs. “I didn’t have any dinner because of stupid Tadd…” she drags the word out as her eyes go wide, and it’s clear she didn’t mean for that to slip out.
“Tadd?” I turn to face her fully, my brows lowering as anger bubbles in my chest.
She blinks at me, and I can tell she’s trying to think of a lie, so I arch a brow, fold my arms across my chest, spearing her with a warning look. “Keller?”
She heaves a sigh, her shoulders falling with resignation. “I lied to you.”
“You lied to me. What does that mean?” I press, impatient because I just don’t have it in me to deal with another fucking liar in my life.
Fran drags her teeth over her plump bottom lip, clearly hesitant. But just when it looks like she’s about to talk, we’re interrupted by fucking Dallas and I almost tell him to fuck right off.
“Where’s the drinks, my guy?” He slaps me on my shoulder, oblivious to the tension currently settled between Fran and me.
“Here you go, fellas.” The bartender places a tray of drinks onto the counter, and without even acknowledging him, I hand over my card, my steely gaze still set firmly on Fran.
“Is… everything okay?” Dallas asks, picking up the tray, his curious gaze flitting between me and Fran.
Fran offers him a tight smile. I offer nothing more than a grunt. Thankfully he takes that as his cue and carries the drinks back to the guys.
“When you asked me if Tadd has been causing trouble, and I told you he hasn’t,” Fran begins, stepping up to me. “I lied.”
I’m momentarily relieved because in the completely messed up part of my mind that is scarred from past betrayals, I thought she was about to tell me she lied about her and Tadd being over. But then when I realize what she’s just said, my anger is back.
“What did he do?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“He’s been harassing me on the work chat. Asking me all sorts of inappropriate questions about you, us . He asked me to co-list with him on a really huge listing, and when I said hell no, he cornered me in our boss’s office, and of course Tony was supportive of the idea. I couldn’t say no.” Her blue eyes are wide with sincerity as she continues. “And then today, he tricked me into going to the penthouse we’re co-listing on, telling me to wait for the stagers, but the stagers never showed. Because there never were stagers. It was his way of keeping me from coming to the game tonight.” She shakes her head. “He’s a dick.”
I let her words sink in, allowing my brain to process what she’s just told me. And white hot rage sears through my veins. I drag my tongue over my bottom lip, carefully considering my next move. “Where does he live?”
Her brows knit together, her eyes flitting between mine. “No.”
“Keller, I fucking warned him,” I seethe, trying so hard to keep my voice down.
“I know. And I appreciate you for doing that Robbie, but the truth is, I think—” She pauses, like she’s not sure she should say it. “I think what you said might’ve made things worse.”
I scoff. “You’re kidding me, right?”
She searches my face.
“You can’t just let him get away with treating you like this.”
She shakes her head again. “No, I’m not. I promise. I just—” She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose a moment, her gaze almost pleading when it meets mine again. “Just let me deal with him, okay?”
I stare at her for a pause. And I want to argue with her. I really do. But I also don’t want to make things more difficult for her. I know the corporate world is a lot different from professional hockey. If Tadd was a hockey player, I’d just have it out with him on the ice and be done with it. But I can’t go to his place right now and beat the shit out of him; I’d wind up in jail, and that’s not going to help anyone.
“Please, Robbie.”
I’m pulled from my thoughts by Fran’s sweet voice, her hand rubbing up and down my arm.
“Please just let me deal with Tadd.” She flashes me the hint of a reassuring smile. “And I promise you, if it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.”
“You better,” I warn her, only half-joking, managing the semblance of a smile. But deep down, I still don’t like this. From what Fran’s told me about him, I know what sort of guy he is, and I don’t trust him one fucking bit.
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on over there,” Dallas yells, causing both Fran and I to look over, finding everyone staring at us. “But can y’ all just kiss and make up so we can keep drinking?”
Logan and Happy start banging the table like fucking toddlers, and suddenly everyone is chanting. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
“Oh my God,” Fran murmurs.
I look down at her to find her cheeks almost as pink as her pants suit. And when her eyes meet mine, I arch a wagering brow. “What do you say, Keller? Should we give ‘em what they want?”
Her gaze dips down to my lips, lingering for a few long seconds before darting back up again, and fuck me, when the tip of her tongue pokes out to wet her bottom lip, I swear I feel it in my dick. Hell, I’m not even breathing. And then, suddenly she’s reaching up and wrapping her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down.
“Fuck it,” she mutters right as her lips claim mine.
I’m stilted, frozen in place like a fucking jackass. She’s kissing me. Fran Keller is actually kissing me. The cheers from our group, the sound of a Motley Crüe song playing in the background, it all fades into nothing, and it’s suddenly just the two of us, the warmth of her soft lips helping to breathe life back into me.
I gently cup her jaw with one hand, my other hand landing on her curvy hip, pulling her flush against me with enough force that it causes her to moan against my lips. Seizing the opportunity, I trail my tongue along the seam of her mouth before gently nudging inside, earning another soft sound from her that verges on a whimper, her fingers gripping the lengths of my hair.
When our tongues finally meet, I don’t miss the way she flinches ever so slightly, her other hand gripping my arm like it’s her lifeline. But she quickly relaxes, taking all that I have to give her until this isn’t just a kiss. It’s so much more. Her tits are heaving with each of her heavy breaths. Her body melds against mine. She’s practically panting, a rumbled sound coming from somewhere deep in the back of my throat as I practically tongue fuck her mouth, exploring ever y part of her that I can as my dick aches with the kind of need I’ve never felt before.
“Get a room!” a distant voice shouts, yanking me back to reality.
Fran breaks the kiss first, slowly pulling away, and when she looks up at me, those glazed eyes are filled with lust, and I can’t stop myself before ghosting her kiss-swollen lips with another graze of my own, taking the moment of closeness to breathe her in.
With my hand still cupping her jaw, I pull away enough to get a good look at her, sweeping the pad of my thumb over her glistening bottom lip, smirking when her lashes flutter closed at my touch.
But then, like a douse of icy cold water, the spell is broken, and Fran single-handedly rips open my chest, yanks out my heart, and crushes the life out of it with her words.
“That should get them off our backs for a while,” she murmurs, turning away from me and knocking back the remainder of her tequila soda before placing the empty glass on the counter.
Staring at her, I stand up straighter, squaring my shoulders, pushing my hair away from my face as I allow her words to sink in.How have I been so fucking stupid?
From the night we spent together in her bed, to the secrets we’ve shared since, I let myself get carried away like a fucking love-sick fool.Fran doesn’t have feelings for me. And I don’t have feelings for her either. And, as much as it sucks, this is the harsh reminder I needed; this isn’t fucking real.