“He’s at the strippers.” Her friend answers before Blair can speak, and Blair covers her mouth with her hand.
“He’s not. I mean, I don’t know. Jenna’s making assumptions.”
Ahh, she has a name.“Nice to meet you, Jenna.”
Jenna’s wide smile is visible behind Blair’s hand, and I’m going to guess she pokes her tongue out because Blair recoils quickly, embarrassment tinging her expression. “Ew, Jen.”
“Sorry.” She giggles. “Nice to meet you too, Zane. I’ve heard”—Blair shoots her a glare and she nods—“nothing about you,” she finishes. “Nothing at all. But tell me. If you were a football player. Hypothetically. And you were in your hypothetical hometown of say, San Francisco, and your girlfriend was watching your game—”
“Jenna. Stop. Please.”
“What? It’s just hypothetical.”
“Nathan went out to drown his sorrows with the guys and Jenna thinks he’s at a strip club.”
“Would it matter if he was?” I ask with a frown, genuinely curious. “I’m assuming you trust him since you’ve been together forfouryears.”
Jesus, did my voice just rise? I need to get my shit together.
Blair flinches. “Ouch. I see you’ve been talking to Cade. How long did you wait before you called him?”
“Hecalledme.” I point to my chest. “He was worried when you sent him half a text and then proceeded to ignore his calls. Tell me, why is that? Why would he be worried knowing you were likely to be with your man?”
I feel Jenna’s gaze bouncing between us but I hold my stare, challenging Blair to answer.
“He doesn’t trust Nathan,” she snaps. “The same way I’m sure you don’t. But I do.” She points to her chest just like I did. “And you’re right. If he’s at a strip club, what does it matter? He’s coming home tome.”
I slam my eyes shut and suppress a shudder. I don’t need that visual.
“Do you twohateorloveeach other?” Jenna questions and I stifle a snort, deciding on the spot that I like her.
“Neither,” Blair responds for both of us. “We’re neutral.”
“Okay. Thanks. I just needed to get my head around it, because honestly… Tension, meet knife.”
A laugh bursts out of me and this time Blair aims her glare my way. “Careful, B. You’re not acting very neutral right now. You look like you want to kill me.”
“Kill, no. Punch, maybe.”
“She loves me,” I say to Jenna and she laughs so loud it draws a bout of unwanted attention—namely, the chick with the phone aimed our way.
Blair opens her mouth to comment, but I get in first. “I think we should take this off the street. My hotel is only a block down the road and—”
“I amnotgoing to your hotel room, Zane.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that. It has a lobby, with couches.”
“Ooh, I love the sound of couches.” Jenna moans blissfully. “And my apartment is so far away.” Holding her palms together, she turns to Blair and begs, “Please, Blair. These boots were not made for walking…or standing around.”
“Ugh. Fine. It would be nice to wash my mouth out.”
“Can you clean my shoes while you’re at it?” I raise a brow in humor.
“Nope. That’s on you. Don’t stand in front of a woman who’s about to…” She waves her hand around.
“Puke?” I ask.
“Yes, but I was going to use a better term.”
