The thought is enticing, that’s for sure. But while the memory of the other night is one I never want to forget, I’m not sure I want to share Savannah. At least not for a while.
I’m still irritated that she left while I was sleeping, though I guess it was just as well, considering my sister called while I was still blinking my eyes open. I was out of bed and on a plane within the hour, and I haven’t stopped since.
“I don’t even want to know,” Cora mutters as her friend closes the front door behind her.
There’s no fighting my smirk. “No, you don’t.”
Laughing, she drops her head back, her long blond hair swaying.
The sound is like a bolt of joy straight to my heart. Until a few years ago, I thought she’d lost the ability to laugh like that for good. We’ve come a long way since then, though.
“You have time for dinner?” she asks. “My plane doesn’t leave until ten.”
This is what I hate most about this arrangement. I fly home and she has to fly back.
My twin and I are finally on speaking terms after years of no communication, yet we can’t have a true relationship because one of us always has to be in Vegas.
Fortunately for me, at least, Cora is willing to be there most of the time.
Still, I’m exhausted from my week there. The travel and less than desirable sleeping arrangements are nothing compared to the mental toll these weeks inflict.
“Yeah, but let me hop in the shower first.”
An hour later, we step into a restaurant that’s right around the corner from the arena.
“Camden,” the hostess says when she spots me. “Want your usual table?”
She assesses my sister, probably trying to figure out whether this is a work thing or something a little more personal. I rarely come here without the guys, so her reaction isn’t surprising.
“Sure. Thanks, Ry.” I rest a hand on Cora’s back and guide her toward the hostess stand. “This is my sister Cora.”
As Ryanne leads us to our table, we pass person after person dressed in business attire. Most have probably just gotten off work and are starting their weekend off by letting loose a little. I, on the other hand, can’t wait to get home to bed.
After some much needed rest, I’ll call Savannah and make plans to see her again. Hopefully tomorrow night.
“A bunch of the guys are here, though I haven’t seen any of the coaches tonight,” Ry says as she guides us past the bar. I’m too tired to put on a smile and talk business anyway, so I keep my focus ahead, hoping like hell no one spots me.
“Oh,” Cora whispers, her tone full of mirth. “Any players you can introduce me to? Wouldn’t mind having a boy toy lined up for my next visit.”
With a sharp exhale, I glare at my sister. Being a sex therapist means she’s got zero filter, and she’s a huge proponent of an age gap. I can only imagine what she’ll have to say when she finally meets Savannah. It’ll probably include a diatribe about how I’m working out some of my own daddy issues.
Dammit. I really don’t want to have my sister’s commentary in my head next time Savannah moans that name.
I’ve thought about it every night this week, while lying in bed alone. Before her, I’d never asked a woman to call me Daddy, but fuck if the moment she said it, my dick didn’t grow a size.
“Cam,” a deep voice calls from my left.
Since I’ve already been spotted, I force a smile and search for the source of the voice. My expression turns genuine when I discover Finn Langfield walking my way. I’ve known him since he was a kid. Back when he came to Bolts games to support his uncles, Aiden and Brooks. His mom married their brother Beckett, the CEO of the entire Langfield enterprise, when he was little. Kid is huge now, but he’s still got the same affable personality.
“Finn, hey.”
As he shakes my hand, he eyes my sister just like the hostess did. Yeah, it’s rare I show up anywhere with a woman, and very few peopleknow much about my personal life, including my twin’s existence, so I understand the confusion.
“This is my sister Cora,” I say. “Cora, this is Finn Langfield, catcher for the Boston Revs.”
As she slips her hand into his, she smirks. “Large hands,” she murmurs with a wink in my direction.
Fucking A.
