Dropping a few bills on the counter where the bartender left her check, she ignores her fresh cocktail, pushes her chair back from the bar, then rises to her feet.
I’m about to ask her what she’s doing when she gives me the fakest smile I think she’s ever sent my way.
“It’s been a pleasure, as always.” She grabs her purse and jacket from the back of the chair. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Mr. Cruz.”
“Sutton, wait,” I say, reaching for her as she strides away from me. She moves just quickly enough to be past my grasp, and I drop my hand, frowning as I watch her leave. I blow a breath through pursed lips and scrub a hand through my hair. “What the fuck was that all about?”
Chapter Six
Max
Tonight is the monthly guys’ night I host at my place, and normally I look forward to this time with my buddies, but my head’s a jumbled mess. I’ve been going over that weekend in Vegas all afternoon and too many pieces are missing.
I’m ashamed to admit that who I was back then, in the prime of my career, isn’t someone I’m proud of today. Sure, I’m proud of who I was on the field,damnproud; I was a beast, a legend.
But the guybehindthe jersey? The actual man?
Shaking my head, I rack the balls for the next game. I’m not proud of that guy at all.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Colton asks as I hang up the rack on the wall. He hands me a beer and I down half of it in one gulp. He’s been one of my closest friends since childhood. Like Gray, Colt’s been by my side since middle school. If I can’t remember something from that trip, maybe he can help fill in some of the blanks.
“You remember that Vegas trip after my second Superbowl win—”
“TheVegas trip?” he asks with an incredulous laugh. “With the bunnies?”
“That’s the one.”
“Like I’d forget. Epic fucking trip, man.” He clinks the neck of his beer bottle against mine. “Why?”
I blow out a breath as I watch Gray break. The balls scatter across the blue felt, but he doesn’t sink any. I grab the cue and step up to the table. “You remember anyone else being there?” I ask as I line up my cue and bend over the table.
“You, me, Gray—”
“Girls,” I clarify as I take the shot. The cue ball misses the five ball by a hair. I curse under my breath, then step away so Gray can take his next turn.
“Nina,” Colton says.
I groan, hating the fact that we ever brought the Bean along on those trips. Not that she’s ever been delicate, not in the slightest, but those were debauchery-filled testosterone fests, and she must have thought we were cavemen.
I mean, we were, but she shouldn’t have had to be the one wrangling our stupid asses.
Leaning against the back of the couch, I grip the cue in both hands in front of me and look at my friends. “It was a bunch of bunnies, a couple cheerleaders…” I try to remember anything else about that night, but it’s just glimpses and screenshots, everything a bit blurry around the edges.
“We did a shit ton of blow that night.”
I snort. “I don’t think the blow was the problem.” Shaking my head, I run a hand down my face. “I’m guessing the bits and pieces I can’t remember are more from the booze and the pills.”
Like I said, not proud of that guy, but I’ve come a long fucking way since then.
“Why is this coming up?” Gray asks, leaning over the table as he lines up his shot.
Dude’s about to run this game and it’s my own damn fault for being so distracted lately.
“You remember what Sutton said in that meeting with the Bratt kid?”
Gray breaks, sinks two balls, then looks up at me with a cocky grin. “You want to just give up now?”
I roll my eyes. “The meeting?”
