Ralph turns to Carter. “You got lucky tonight.”
“I know.”
“See that it doesn’t happen again,” Ralph grits out, all business now.
“It won’t.” Carter’s jaw tightens, irritation flickering in his eyes as Ralph climbs into his car and drives off.
Carter shakes his head and starts walking away.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I call after him.
Carter stops and turns, eyes narrowing. “Do you need something?”
The thought hits me, he’s never been in this position before and has no idea how this works.
“Get in my car, Carter. You and I need to talk.”
“No offense, but I don’t need you to spank my ass and tell me I’ve been a bad boy.” He pivots to leave.
Carlos pushes off the hood and laughs. “That’s a first. The other boys in your team know better than to sass, Olivia.” He winks at me and walks away.
“Get in the car, Storm.” My voice hardens. “It’s myjobto make sure you get home in one piece,andto know exactly what happened so I can spin it before the press gets wind of it.”
The passenger door creaks open as I plant a hand on my hip and glare at him.
“Lady, it’s nearly four in the morning. I need sleep.”
“Guess you should’ve thought about that before you let your dick do the thinking. Get. In.”
A smirk crosses his handsome face. “Do you talk like this to the others?”
“Worse. Come on, now, I don’t have all morning to babysit the all American football star. I have a job to do.”
He arches an eyebrow at me and with that smirk, my heart beats a little faster.
“Okay, Rivers,” he says using my last name. “Can we do this at my house?”
“Yep, I just need your address.”
Chapter Four
Carter
The address rolls off my tongue, and Olivia taps it into her phone, thumbs moving fast, all business. She’s the woman every player both fears and secretly wants to impress. I’ve seen her in meetings, cool as ice while the rest of us sweat. But up close, at four in the damn morning with her hair tied back and eyes blazing, she’s something else entirely. I pull open the passenger door and slide in. Her car smells faintly like coffee and citrus shampoo. Clean. Sharp. Professional. The kind of scent that says she’s got her life together while mine’s threatening to come apart at the seams.
She doesn’t speak at first. Just drives. City lights smear past the windshield in streaks of gold and white. I glance her way once, twice. She’s gripping the wheel tight enough her knuckles are white.
“Want to tell me what happened?” she asks finally, voice low, calm in that practiced PR tone.
“Not really.”
“Too bad.”
I blow out a breath. “We were at Luxe. A few of the guys, couple of shots, nothing crazy. This woman comes up to me.”
“Woman or stripper?”
Annoyed at her tone, I say, “Fine, stripper. I try to let her down gently. Derek steps in to diffuse her advances. Next thing I know, the bouncer is in my face, and suddenly she’s claiming I grabbed her.”
