Page 52

I’m stuck beside the man I can’t stand as a man I can’t stand even more keeps sneaking peeks in our direction.

I need to learn how to tell Mandy no when she suggests the Gridiron. She’s across the table locked in some private conversation with Jaxon, and I’m still pretending like I’m here with Travis when I just want to go home, get into my pajamas, and spend the evening not thinking of the kiss we just shared in front of my ex.

I turn toward Travis. “Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure,” he says, his voice all gritty and warm like he means it. “I take it that’s the ex?”

I nod, and the waitress delivers his tequila and my third vodka soda. He clinks his glass to mine. “To faking it.”

I laugh, pick up my glass, and clink his back before chugging half of it down.

Two made me tipsy. Three will drive me right into drunk territory, but it sort of feels like the only way to cope with the situation I currently find myself in.

“Where’s your daughter?” I ask.

“At home.”

“Alone?” My brows dip, and he chuckles.

“No, not alone. My publicist recommended a nanny, so we’re doing a trial night,” he says. “I’m trying to find someone ahead of the season. We’ve got OTAs coming up, and—”

“OTAs?” I interrupt.

“Organized Team Activities,” he says. “Voluntary meetings and workouts in the off-season that we’re essentially expected to attend. It’s three days in May, and I’ll be gone the majority of each day. And then camp in July…I just need to make sure I find the right person to take care of her when I can’t be there, you know?”

“I can help,” I volunteer, and if I wasn’t a little wasted, I probably wouldn’t be volunteering for ways to spend more time with him.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I couldn’t impose like that.”

I shrug. “Okay, well, suit yourself.”

His nostrils flare like he’s annoyed with me, but if he is, he doesn’t say anything about it. It’s rather unusual for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What ball does that guy have of yours?” he finally asks. He drains his tequila and holds up his glass to signal the waitress he needs a refill. I hold my glass up, too, even though it’s still half-full.

“My dad and I went to game three in Houston last year, and he caught a foul ball.”

“And it’s special to you?”

I shrug and nod at the same time. “He’s a big fan. He scored two tickets. My mom’s a diehard Rangers fan and didn’t want to go, so my dad asked me. It was the kind of trip that made our father-daughter bond even stronger.” I feel myself getting emotional as I tell the story even though I’ve told it dozens of times before.

Maybe because he has a daughter now, too, and he might understand the significance of the ball.

“And he’s holding onto it?”

I nod. “I went to get my stuff from his place and he changed all the locks then threw everything I own out his windows onto his front lawn. Except the ball.”

He doesn’t say anything, but when I glance over at him, I see the anger written all over his face. The pinched brows. The flared nostrils. The clenched jaw working back and forth.

His eyes dart over toward the bar.

“Don’t bother with him,” I warn. “He’s not worth it. I’ll get it back someday.”

He chews his bottom lip for a beat before he relents and nods.

“Tell Trav about your sister’s wedding,” Mandy says from across the table, and I give her that wide-eyed annoyed look with a tilt of my head that says thanks-a-fucking-lot without the words.

I blow out a breath.

“Your sister’s wedding?” he repeats, inflecting the end into a question.

“My sister is getting married in June. Her fiancé’s best friend is my ex.” I incline my head toward the bar to indicate Owen.

He wrinkles his nose. “Oh that’s rough. Where’s the wedding?”

I shrug. “Either Mexico or the Bahamas, I guess.”

“And he’ll be there?”

“I haven’t gotten up the nerve to ask,” I admit. “But my sister did ask me to be the maid of honor, and I wouldn’t put it past her to try to get us back together.”

“You need to bring a date,” he says.

“That’s what I told her!” Mandy says. “You volunteering, Woods?”

My eyes stare daggers across the table at my friend.

“I’m not not volunteering,” he says to Mandy with a shrug like I’m not even here.

“I haven’t invited you,” I remind him.

“Well, the ex already thinks we’re an item, so why not shove it in his face a little more?” he asks.

I blow out a breath. “God, I hate you,” I mutter, and I draw in a big sip of my drink even though I’m starting to come around to the idea.

He leans in close and lowers his voice so only I can hear. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that when I’m inside you.”

Vodka soda sprays out of my mouth all over the table, and my cheeks burn to the uproarious laughter that ensues from my faux pas.

God, this man…ugh! He drives me crazy, and maybe it’s time I let him drive me crazy in all the best ways.

Or maybe that’s just the vodka talking.

It’s definitely the vodka talking.

But the vodka is louder than my sense tonight.

I turn toward him as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You’ll be doing that later, too,” he murmurs, his eyes on my hand.

I get what he’s implying, and maybe I’m getting tired of issuing rejections.

Maybe a hate fuck is just what we need to blow past the attraction between the two of us.

I finish my third, and at some point Owen heads out because I don’t see him by the bar anymore, and that’s when Mandy nods toward the ladies’ room.

“Jaxon and I are going to head out,” she says once the door shuts behind us. “I’ll be staying with him tonight if you, uh…need to use the apartment for any reason.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Subtle, Miller,” I grumble.

“Are you okay to get home?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll Uber it.”

“Or you can let Travis drive you,” she suggests, and I roll my eyes.

“Will you stop pushing me toward him?”

“Yeah, when you stop denying what’s right in front of your face.”

I roll my eyes, and then we both do our business then head back to the table. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call up an Uber as Mandy and Jaxon issue their goodbyes only to have my phone knocked out of my hand.

I glance up with a glare at the offender as it clatters to the table. “What the hell?”

“Why are you getting an Uber?” Travis asks.

“Because I want to go home.”

“I will take you.”

“You’ve had two glasses of straight tequila,” I point out.

“Right, and I’m six-three, two hundred pounds.”

Why is hearing his height and weight so…sexy?

I blow out a breath. “An Uber is fine.”

“Then I’m coming with you to make sure you get home okay.”

“You’re annoying,” I hiss as I stand.

He laughs and stands, too. “Right back at you, Hartley.” He grabs the fresh glass of tequila the waitress just brought over, and he drains it in one long chug. “That’s three. Guess I can’t drive now.”

“Then get your own Uber.”

He shrugs. “Nah. I can walk from Mandy’s place. It’ll sober me up by the time I get home.”

“You do you, boo.” I say goodbye to Cory, Austin, and Deon Miller—the guy who wasn’t there last time—and I start my pursuit toward the door with Travis hot on my trail.