“Had to be,” he says in a huff, which makes me laugh even more. “Speaking of Vegas. It looked like you had fun.”
I feel my cheeks heat. Since he never messaged me about them, I’d hoped that any of the videos of me on stage hadn’t made it to his feed. Judging by the shit-eating grin on his face, they did and he waited until now to bring them up.
“Yes, I had a very nice time,” I say, quickly turning away to busy myself—and to hide by beet-red cheeks.
“Nice? You don’t have a ‘nice’ time in Vegas. If you did, then you did Vegas wrong.”
Oh big brother… if you only knew how right things were in Vegas…
“Do you really want to know howmuchof anicetime I had in Vegas or would you like to stop this conversation right here?”
He picks up on my specific emphasis of certain words and quickly shakes his head. That’s what I thought. If there’s anything to make brothers stop picking on their sisters, it’s tears and the threat of sex talk.
“Yes please,” he says. “Stopping is good. Especially because I have a feeling your nice time was with Maddox Gallagher. Stopping isverygood.”
“That’s what I thought,” I say as I lean down to pick something off the floor. As soon as I do, I hear the bells above my door ringing, alerting me that someone is here.
“Welcome in!” I yell from my awkward stance, but as I slowly stand up and look through the display glass to the door, I immediately go back down, wanting to hide from whoever walked in.
Because that whoever is wearing Nashville Fury gear. And not just any gear—a gray warm-up set that I learned in my post-Vegas, airplane, social media, stalking is one only players wear.
“Gab? You good down there?”
“Yup! Fine!” I call out to Beau. “Dropped something.”
My heart. That’s what dropped. Which is funny considering I’m pretty sure my blood pressure is spiking at this moment. I don’t even know if it’s Maddox—it looks to be a player about his height and a similar-ish build—but the presence of the orange, fire logo is enough to make my brain go a million miles a minute while my heart tries to beat out of my chest.
Is it him? After a full week of nothing, is he coming in here? Every day, every time the bell rang, a little bit of me hoped it was him. When it wasn’t, I felt relief and slight disappointment.
It’s fucking confusing.
I mean, if I do see him, am I happy about it? I wouldn’t be mad. I’m sure it would be nice to see him. He’s a nice guy who made my divorce trip memorable. In so many ways.
Which is also why I don’t want to see him. What we had in Vegas was perfect. A true vacation hookup that was magical in so many ways. If I see him again, that memory might become skewed, and I don’t want to ever forget that night for exactly what it was.
Then again, if he came in here and asked me for a repeat performance, I don’t know if I could say no. I mean, I can still feel his tongue between my thighs. No way I have the willpower to say no to that.
Except I’d need to. I’m not in a position for anything, even another fun hookup. Definitely not a relationship. Though I don’t think Maddox is the relationship kind of guy from the things I’ve read about him online. Also, bold of me to assume he’d want that with me. Then again, I haven’t seen pictures ofhim out and about in the past week, let alone pictures with him and another woman. Not that I’ve been looking. I haven’t. Much.
God this is confusing. And I’ve officially graduated from hot mess to dumpster fire.
“Linc Kincaid?”
“Beau! What the hell are you doing here?”
I let out a huge breath—relief with a side of disappointment—as I stand up to see my brother and Linc sharing a bro hug.
“You two know each other?”
“Gabi! You didn’t tell me that Beau was your brother.”
“Apologies,” I say. “I didn’t realize there was a secret Nashville athlete club that introduced all of you together.”
“Same agent,” Beau says as Linc takes a seat next to him. “Which means we’ve been at more than a few parties and events together.”
“What a small world,” I say, trying to keep my face even. And also trying not to look over Linc’s shoulder to see if anyone else in a Fury warm-up is about to walk in. “Can I get you something Linc?”
“Please,” he says, eyeing the glass case next to him. “Two brownies for Ainsley—who sends her love by the way. And I’ll take, let’s see… I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for.”
