“You look beautiful,” I manage while the others talk, distracted.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, not looking at me. A wash of pink blooms over her cheeks. “You look good, too.”
My gaze lingers on her face, tracing the curve of her cheekbone, the swell of her lips, the sweep of her jawline down to her chin.
“Is that a hickey?” Walker asks, and we both startle. His eyes are on Jordan’s neck and his grin is ear-to-ear. I didn’t even notice him join the group.
“What? No.” Jordan’s eyes go wide and her hand flies to her neck—in the exact spot that I had my mouth all over a few nights ago. Her eyes meet mine before she jerks her gaze away, fast.
More of that hot, sharp pride pounds through me. I left my mark on her. I shouldn’t like it so much.
“Oh my god, itis.” Walker dips down, peering closer, and she swats him away. “That’s totally a hickey, J-dawg. Nice work.” He lifts a hand for a high five. “Up top.”
A laugh slips out of me that I turn into a cough, looking away, but I can’t wipe the stupid, smug smile from my face. Is it wrong to feel relief that the others can see she’s taken?
“Who’s the lucky lover?” Walker asks, and Jordan’s face goes an adorable shade of mortified as her eyes flick to mine and then away again.
“I need to use the ladies’ room,” she mutters, and hurries off.
My eyes stay fastened to her retreating form in that dress.
Georgia takes one look at me and loops her arm through Walker’s, tilting her head at the bar. “Come on, Rookie. Let’s go get you a big-boy drink.”
“I’m aman,” Walker tells her. “I’m going to get amandrink. Like Volkov.”
Volkov snorts.
“Sure, honey.” Georgia nods with playful indulgence. “We’ll get you amandrink.”
She leads him away, and my eyes return to the hallway where Jordan disappeared.
I shouldn’t follow her. There’s no reason to.
I want to, though. I want to take a closer look at my handiwork. Run my finger over it to see if she’d shiver.
“So,” Miller says with a shit-eating grin that makes me want to smile, too. “The fake dinner wasn’t a bust. You two are together.”
“We’re not together.” I can’t take my eyes off her, though, and my desire is obvious.
“Why not?” Volkov asks, impatient.
I should tell him it’s inappropriate to gossip about Jordan’s personal life.
They wouldn’t gossip, though. They love Jordan. They’d protect her. I haven’t seen a word of this in the media. The team would keep her safe from scandal.
I think about what Jordan said at that little Italian place. Asking if I had peers.
Volkov was my player on the Storm, but before that, we were in the league together. Wewerepeers, and now we work together. I trust him and his expertise. I can’t foresee a situation where I’d have to pull rank on him.
And Miller, well. I have plans for Rory Miller. He won’t be in the league forever.
“It’s complicated,” I admit.
Miller sighs, eyes finding Hazel. “It’s always complicated. But,” he perks up, “hopefully you scoop her up before someone else does.”
What? Alarm rockets through me. The same feeling as when Yang-Hanson asked about her.
“Oh, look.” Miller nudges his chin across the room. “Owens and Darcy are here. I’m going to go say hi.”
