“I’m Maura, Wes Janson’s wife.” A short brunette smiles at me. “We heard Dylan and you have been spending time together. Wes pointed you out, and we thought we’d come over and say hello.”
I smile awkwardly. I’m not comfortable talking to random women about my love life. I actually find myself missing Lilla right now. She’d know what to say to these people.
“I’m Chrissy Dosa, Taylor’s wife.” I shake hands with another dark-haired petite woman before she gestures to the curvy redhead next to her. “And Harlow is Dante Robinson’s latest.”
Harlow laughs and puts her arm around me. “We’re the two newbies here; right, hun?”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I shift so I can locate Dylan. He and Dante are clicking shot glasses high above their heads. I watch them swallow what’s inside them and slam them down onto the bar. I remember Dante’s bio in the handbook: Pro Bowl wide receiver, and he got some league record for catches last season. He’s super tall, clearly in amazing shape, and his light brown hair is cut in a buzz cut that works for him. His blue eyes are piercing as they scan the room, almost like he’s always searching for someone to tease. His fun-loving attitude would be cute if he didn’t have a strong creep factor attached to him. I can feel it from here, and a chill goes down my spine.
“You and Dylan are too cute together,” Harlow says to me.
I look at her. Her eyes are a pretty green, but they’re calculating and shifty. Mean girl eyes. I’ve met women like Harlow before, and I can tell immediately not to trust a word that comes out of her mouth.
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence ensues between the four of us.
Where the fuck is Lilla?
Maura starts talking. “I love my husband, but those nights can sure get lonely when our men are out of town. Wes has been in the league for ten years now. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to his retirement one of these days.”
“Oh, I know,” says Chrissy. “I mean I’ve only been with Taylor for two years now, at least with him exclusively if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, who’s with their man exclusively, really?” Harlow laughs. “I mean you are, Maura, but you and Wes are the exception, not the rule.”
Maura squirms as she looks over at me. “Now that’s not true,” she says unconvincingly. “Wes isn’t the only faithful guy on this team. Come on.”
“Not the only faithful guy, no, but I could count the number of young guys on this team who are only dating one woman on my pinkie finger.” Chrissy laughs.
“Aren’t you and Taylor married?” I ask Chrissy.
“Over two years.”
“So…” I think I must be missing something here. “Aren’t you guys faithful to each other?”
“We try.” She sighs. “But he’s just gone so much, it gets hard. I mean who can blame him right? If I had hordes of men hanging all over me, I’d be harder pressed to sleep alone. As it is, I’ve had my share of indiscretions. But, you know how it is, Jasalie. Right?”
No, actually, I had no idea how it is. None at all. I’d suspected, but I guess I’d started to feel like maybe Dylan was different. Or maybe he and I could be different.
My stomach rises up into my throat, and I think I’m going to be sick. I look back over at Dylan. He and Dante are talking to the bartender and laughing. A waitress comes up to them and asks them something. Dante puts his arm around her, really close to her ass, and whispers something into her ear. She turns red and walks away. Dante looks at Dylan and laughs. Dylan doesn’t laugh with him, but the whole thing makes me nauseous. I look away.
“Excuse me,” I say to the three women as I turn and walk outside the hotel.
The desert air is dry and cool. I lean up against the windowpane of the bar and stare down at the sidewalk. A piece of gum I must have narrowly missed stepping on is right next to my foot. I tug at the strap of my dress, wishing I hadn’t worn this outfit. Deal or no deal, there’s no room for me in Dylan Wild’s world. None at all.
“Jasalie?”
I turn my head and come face to face with a pretty redhead. Her striking green eyes assess me.
“Are you okay?”
I tamp down my distress and give her the biggest fake smile in my repertoire. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
She extends her hand. “I wanted to introduce myself. I sort of met you once before, but not formally. I’m—”
And then I realize who she is. She’s the woman I tried to serve a drink to at the Super Bowl after party, the one who was sitting with Colton and Dylan.
“Sky. Skylar Wild.” She giggles. “That still sounds weird to say. Colton and I literally just got married.”
