"Do you ladies feel like some company?" Finn asked, rubbing his palms together as a slow grin spread. "I have a feeling we'll have more fun with you around."
How was that even a question? Moving on…
"You guys should come with us," Angela said.
Emily stared death daggers at her.
"They said we should bring plus-ones." Angela held her ground against Emily's attitude.
"Will there be food?" Sloan asked, all casual-like, but with the underlying intensity of a guy who appreciated a good steak.
I moved beside him and lifted my hand as though painting a gorgeous picture full of happy accidents. "There will be entire buffets."
He gave me a funny look, but his eyes lingered a touch too long as the edges of his lips twitched.
On that thought, Emily cleared her throat.
Maybe we had been staring at each other entirely too long.
"If there are lemon drops, we're in. I'm keeping an eye on you." Elliott ran his hand over his face. "I thought I only had to watch out for Sloan this weekend."
"Your weekend just got busy," Angela announced all cheery.
Elliott practically turned into a puppy running circles at her feet.
"If there's food, I'm in." Sloan followed Finn in Emily's wake, his gaze pausing on me and raising my blood pressure just a smidge.
I was so twitterpated, I nearly followed him without thinking.
But wait, he couldn't just go out in Vegas dressed like that, could he?
"Hold up," I said, loud enough to get everyone's attention.
"Yeah?" Sloan asked.
Flannel was nice and all, but this was Vegas, in the summer, and we were going clubbing. So what, I couldn't have those lemon drops or the history of poor decisions that came with them? I could still get my dance on.
"Don't you want to change or something?" I asked.
Sloan glanced down at the button-up shirt. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Uh…" Technically, nothing. But it was hot as balls out there.
You know what, though? This was a problem for the future.
"Nothing." I gestured him out. "Let's find that buffet."
CHAPTERTHREE
SLOAN
Not only had I screwed up, ran my mouth, and lost another endorsement deal, but the promise of a buffet hadn't happened. Loads of booze with an open bar, sure. But not even a bowl of rolls to be found.
Not to say I got grumpy when my blood sugar dropped low, but I didn't get happy, that's for damn sure.
Especially when my phone kept dinging from my teammates checking in and inadvertently reminding me of my fuckup with the ZipZing sports drink brand.
All I did was mention that there was a "fuck-ton" of sugar in their beverages. Turned out, fuck-ton wasn't a unit of measurement this brand liked to have associated with their brand. So, instead of letting me correct my mistake, they cut me loose as a brand ambassador and paused all sponsorship chatter with the Stallions marketing department.
