“I beg to differ.” Jordan put his arm around Maya’s shoulders and turned toward Emily. “Mike’s in his mid-thirties. Divorced. He has an adorable little girl. And he’s a nice guy, not the playboy type or someone who’s going to treat you like shit.”
But he was too nice.
He wasn’t going to hold her against a wall and pound her pussy just the way she liked. He wasn’t going to show up at her work and have her straddle his face until her cum was on the whiskers of his beard.
Maya gave Jordan’s cheek a kiss. “Why is he divorced?”
“His wife cheated on him.” Jordan gave Maya her wine back. “He came home from a stint of away games and found her with another guy. He was fucking wrecked—I know because I went to the arena and talked to him about it.”
“That type of traveling schedule has to be tough on a family. Poor Mike.” Maya’s tone had softened. “But Em, with how much you work, that schedule would totally jibe with you. You wouldn’t feel guilty for being so busy all the time. And you love kids—the single-dad thing issoyour jam.”
Why the hell were they encouraging this?
Because they didn’t know I’d tasted Emily, or that she’d been on my mind every waking second since I’d met her.
My jaws clenched, my teeth now grinding together.
“Do you have a picture of him?” Emily asked.
I looked up from the floor, not realizing I’d been staring at it, and squeezed the thick glass between my fingers.
Did she just say what I think she did?
She’s fucking interested in Mike?
“I’m sure I can find one.” Jordan pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping the screen. “Here you go.”
The phone didn’t make it past Maya’s hands. As she studied the photo, her expression was full of too much goddamn excitement. “Oh yes, we need to make this happen. You’re right, he’s perfect for her.”
“Why do you say that?” Emily was now hugging her legs.
“Because I’m literally staring at your type.”
Emily laughed.
“Tall. Athletic. Extra handsome. Facial hair galore.” She handed Emily the phone. “Meet your future husband.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She finally glanced at the screen. “But you’re right, he’s definitely my type.”
I was surprised I hadn’t cracked a tooth yet.
“Do you want me to make this happen?” Jordan questioned.
Emily’s chest rose. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Maybe?
There was more conversation between the three of them, but I didn’t listen. I’d heard more than enough. I left my drink on the floor and returned to the bar, grabbing the bottle this time and bringing it to the couch.
“Thirsty, brother?”
I hadn’t noticed they were watching me as I refilled my glass, the last bit drained when Emily admitted Mike was her type. “It’s been a long day.”
“You want something to eat? There’s a shit-ton of leftovers.” He pointed at the ottoman, where multiple to-go boxes were sitting. “I can get you a plate—”
“I’m good.” I wiggled the full glass in the air. “This is my dinner.”
“Gavin, you can’t have that for dinner.” Maya slid to the end of the couch as if she were on the verge of getting up. “Please let me get you a plate.”
