Instead, I pick up my drink and move from my stool, walking down to the end of the bar where Jules sits alone.
“May I?” I gesture at the empty seat next to her.
A light-pink shade flushes over her cheeks. “Of course, Coach. Noel.”
I sit down on the high-backed barstool. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nope. I’m worried about a sick kiddo at home.”
My brows arch with surprise. I didn’t realize her sick household member was her own child. “Boy or girl? Or do you have more than one?”
Her brows pinch together in a momentarily puzzled look. “Oh, no. I don’t have kids. I have two nephews. My sister’s boys. We live together.”
“How old are they?”
“Eli’s seven and Coop’s five. Coop’s the sick one.”
“Stomach bugs are a bitch. How long has he been down?”
She sighs softly. “This is day two. My sister is a single mom and she’s in nursing school, so our babysitter is tag teaming with her today instead of me.”
I didn’t know it was possible to be so close to someone and still ache to be closer. It’s all I want—to lean closer, kiss her, and invite her back to my room.
Clearing my throat, I reach for my drink and take a sip. I thought Jules was a confident, beautiful woman who loves clothes, makeup, hair, and social media. Now that I know she’s also devoted to her sister and two young nephews, I’m sinking even deeper into my attraction to her.
It’s like quicksand—it can’t end well, and yet I can’t get myself out of it.
“And you feel guilty about it,” I say, looking at the ice cubes in my glass.
“I do. Coop’s little voice saying, ‘Lay with me, Aunt Jules,’ is just on repeat in my head.”
“You could have stayed home, you know. We really mean it when we say family first in this organization.”
“I know, but being new and still trying to prove myself ... I guess I wanted to play it safe.” She wraps her hand around her glass again, lifting it this time. “Are you still pissed at me over becoming the internet’s new favorite DILF?”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’m not pissed at you. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
She turns her body closer to mine just a little, setting down her glass without taking a drink from it. “I’m intrigued by you not liking it. I don’t know any man who doesn’t like women thirsting over him, even if they’re gay.”
“I’m not gay, but I’m twice divorced.” I raise my glass to my mouth and tip it, surprised to find I’m already down to the last few drops.
She leans closer, speaking softly. “I’m not sure if you realize this, but those women don’t want to marry you. They have something more temporary in mind.”
Fuck. It has to be the scent of her light, sweet perfume making me lightheaded, because I’ve only had one drink. I glance over at her glass and ask, “Is your drink not good?”
She glances at it. “It’s a long story.”
“Do you want something else?”
“No, thanks.”
I raise my glass and shake it slightly, getting the bartender’s attention.
“What about you?” she asks. “Is it losing Carter that’s keeping you from sleeping?”
I shake my head. “Same as you. Family stuff.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
