I had to laugh. “Would you prefer fantastic?”
“Yes. Because I’m still feeling pretty damn good about how the game went.”
“As you should. You were terrific. No interceptions, and you connected for lots of yards.”
I’d hardly ever watched the games when Dev and Brody played, but then again, I wasn’t salivating over Dev’s physique in those skintight game pants. Patrick was two hundred and thirty pounds of pure muscle, and I was there for it.
“I’d better go. Gotta get to practice. Thanks.”
“Talk to you.”
As promised, he was quick to get back to me about timing and gave me his parents’ info. Within an hour, I’d arranged for a car to pick them up and take them to the airport, and anotherwould meet them upon their arrival in Austin. They were booked in first class, and I reserved them a suite at a hotel near Patrick’s, with champagne and flowers. I’d tried for the same hotel, but it was fully booked. I made dinner reservations for them, had a car ready to drive them to the stadium and security to bring them to the luxury box the Kings rented at the game.
By that time I was ready for lunch, and instead of going out, I ordered from room service and checked Patrick’s social media. I had alerts set up to be notified of any online mentions, and several articles popped up that tied my stomach into knots. I set my turkey sandwich aside to read.
Is Patrick Sloane up to his old tricks?
After last week’s win over Birmingham, the superstar quarterback and several team members were spotted at a popular hot spot with some local beauties. Has Trick Sloane brought his partying ways to the Kings, or will Coach Jackson, known for his strict rules, rein him in?
I clicked on the picture to see Patrick with his arm around a gorgeous blond sitting in his lap. The next picture showed them holding hands and sharing drinks. I didn’t care about the other pictures of the team, and who they were with. Only a week ago, he was kissing me and asking if we could get closer. Was Patrick only after as much sex as he could get? I hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors about him, but maybe there was more truth there than I’d thought. It shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did. Patrick wasn’t about to come out as bisexual and start dating men. Standing up for what was right in private was one thing. Living it was another.
With a vicious stab, I closed the article and rubbed my eyes. I was damn glad I hadn’t opened up to Patrick like I’d contemplated. It was obvious the guy was still a player and had zero intention of changing. I was here to do a job, and that waswhat I planned to do. If I wanted sex, I’d find it somewhere else. Maybe tonight.
**
At ten p.m., I wandered into Currents, a gay club in the Meatpacking District. Armed with a tequila and soda, I leaned against the bar, half listening to snippets of conversations while scanning the crowd. It was a younger group than I usually went for, but maybe that was what I needed. Something to shake me out of the funk reading that gossip piece had put me in.
“Wanna dance?” a twentysomething dressed in a tight black T-shirt and sleek jeans asked. Dark-red hair tumbled over his brow, and reddish scruff covered his jaw.
“Sure.” I gulped down my drink and let him lead me to the crowded dance floor, where he held my hips and ground into my ass.
I hadn’t intended to let anyone touch me, but damn, it felt so fucking good, and before I knew what I was doing, I was pushing back on him, letting him kiss my neck.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered.
I turned to face him, and he crushed his mouth to mine while his hands grew demanding. Instead of turning me on, it had the opposite effect. I pulled away, and he grabbed my ass again. That proved to be the final straw, and I wiped my lips.
“Not happening.”
“Fucking cock tease,” he spat out, and without another word, left me standing on the floor.
I walked to the bar and ordered another drink.
“Did he think you were gonna get on your knees right there?” A low voice at my shoulder chuckled.
“Looks like it. But it takes more than a dance for me.” I sipped my drink. “If you’re looking for something like that, I’m gonna have to disappoint you.”
“I’m not. I’m here to unwind after a stressful day at work.”
I raised my glass. “Same.”
“Ethan,” he said.
“Fallon.”
“I can’t blame the guy for trying. You’re pretty gorgeous.”
Ethan’s admiration rolled off me. He was damn gorgeous—black hair sprinkled with a bit of silver and scruff offsetting light-blue eyes, but I wasn’t into throwing out compliments. Frankly, the whole scene depressed me.
