I send her a wink. “Like I told you in the beginning, princess, I don’t mess around with women.”
“Unless it’s me,” she laughs, but my face is set.
“You’re notjusta woman.”
Mae releases an exhale, eyebrows flicking up at my comment. “Most men I meet are pigs. They can’t commit, and the ones that can have no ambition. No drive. There’s nothing more attractive to me than a hard worker.”
I like to think I’m one of the hardest workers in the NFL. I’m known as the guy who lives and breathes football, and even though it doesn’t always work out for my team, I never give up. Never throw in the towel.
Hearing that Mae likes hard workers makes my stomach flip.
I want to be something she wants, even though we can’t have each other.
“You’ve got a little—” I say as I reach forward and wipe the smear of mustard from the corner of her mouth.
The action comes naturally, and I don’t realise I’ve done it until my thumb is pressing against the soft skin of her pouty bottom lip.
She tenses but then immediately relaxes at my touch, smiling at me, her teeth slowly scraping across her bottom lip.
I pull away.
And then something occurs to me that I never thought would.
I’m really fucking jealous of a set of teeth.
19: Mae
“Here’s your Moscow Mule,” I say from behind the bar of the Salty Dog—we’re back in Missarali—as I place the fruity drink before the customer, who I’m pretty sure is just scraping twenty-one. Amber checked her ID, though, since I’m not trusted to sniff out a fake one yet.
I got a part-time job to save up before I—hopefully—secure a position at a veterinary practice. I’ve already applied to a few across the country. Sure, I’m getting paid to cheer, but having something to occupy my free time is healthy.
I liked how quaint the little bar was, and when I came in with my resume, expecting them to tell me that theHelp Wantedsign taped to the window was old and they’d forgotten to take it down years ago, Amber hired me on the spot.
It’s busy tonight since it’s Saturday, and Poppy came to support me.
“You’re sweating,” she says as she sips her diet soda, stifling a snigger.
“It’s calledworking, Poppy,” I tell her as I pile as many used glasses as possible into the tiny dishwasher. “You could help if you want.”
“Sorry, I’m too busy not listening.” She peeks back at her laptop. I appreciate her coming, especially because she has some assignments due, so she’s double-tasking, supporting me, and working on her essay simultaneously.
“Hey, Maya!” calls Jack from his stool, waving his empty beer glass. “Can I get a refill?”
I groan, taking the glass from him. “It’s Mae, Jack, and don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
Jack’s a regular. He’s here every time I work and spends hours drinking himself silly, but I’ve never seen him as drunk as he is now.
His eyes are glazed and unfocused, demonstrating the effect of countless hours spent nursing drinks in a stuffy bar. A scruffy beard frames his jaw, and his under eyes are deep and dark.
“Enough? It’s barely eight o’clock! Come on, I’d really appreciate another.”
I glance over at Amber, but she’s too busy handling the small crowd waiting to be served, looking frustrated as she tries her best to get through everyone in record time.
I study Jack, who’s swaying on his barstool, and his state is enough to make me shake my head. “Sorry, Jack, but you’ve had enough for tonight. Feel free to stay and have some water or coffee.”
Turning my back on him, I take the next person’s order, only to spot two large forms entering the rustic bar, looking very out of place in a venue with such low ceilings.
Poppy waves Nathan and Evan over.
