“He was sitting on the other side of the bar,” Henry interjects. His hand waves in my periphery toward the opposite side of the three-sided bar. His tone suggests he’s offended, almostlike he got here first, so Cort loses, but I’m not playing a game. At least, not with Henry.
“Hey, do you mind, I have a few things to discuss with Cort.” I swivel only my upper half to address Henry. “It’s about Hudson.” Using my son as an excuse to soften the blow is a hopeful tactic. Like Henry will understand—parent to parent—that I need to talk privately with my kid’s coach.
Henry twists his body and gives me another once over, before scrunching up his nose. He lowers his voice and leans toward me to mutter, “Don’t think you can sleep your way to your son having a better position on the team.”
My jaw hits the floor. I’m so taken aback; I don’t respond. Like I’ve been slapped across the face but not associating the sting yet. I’m simply stunned.
However, Cort reacts instantly, stepping around my back and leaning in so close to Henry he presses into the bar, his back arching against the lip of the counter.
“We got a problem here?” Cort’s face is close enough to Henry’s that he could rub his nose against the man’s. Instead, Cort has a murderous gleam in his eyes, like he wants to smash Henry’s face into the countertop.
“I’m just teasing,” Henry defends, holding up his arms in limp surrender.
“Did you find that funny, Vale?” Cort addresses me without taking his eyes off Henry.
I still can’t talk. I’m too shocked by the venom in Cort’s tone and the position he’s pinned Henry in, and maybe a little turned on by this display of dominance and heroism on my behalf.
Slowly, I shake my head and swallow, wetting my mouth to form some words, but Cort continues before I can speak.
“Ididn’t find it funny,” he warns. “And if I hear you say another thing like that to Vale or any other woman affiliated with the team, you and I are gonna have more than words.” Hedoesn’t bother asking Henry if he comprehends his meaning. The speck of fear in Henry’s eyes confirms his understanding.
Here’s the thing about men like Henry, hethinkshe’s a big fish in a small pond, when he’s really a stinky, day-old fish out of water. We’ve got a guy who peaked in high school compared to a man who peaked . . . well . . . he’s still peaking. Cort’s body is as rigid as the mountain we live on and he’s holding his breath like a volcano about to blow.
Henry nods once.
“Now . . . you’re in my seat.” Cort slowly steps backward, allowing Henry to scramble off the stool he was sitting on, which almost makes me laugh because there are still plenty of other vacant stools around me. But I’m not about to argue with Cortland.
Henry scampers off, pointing a finger gun at someone across the bar like he didn’t just get chastised and chased away.
Some guys will never learn.
Settling beside me, Cort spreads his legs wide, his knee tapping against mine, while he keeps his torso facing forward, elbows on the bar. He doesn’t look directly at me when he asks, “You okay?”
For some reason, his position reminds me of Henry’s disinterest in what I was reading, and an edge creeps over me. Instead of gratitude, I snap. “I can handle myself.”
I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember.
At my outburst, Cort’s head whips toward me. Those dark eyes of his narrow like he can see deep into my soul. His stare doesn’t waver from my face when he says, “I know you can.”
Did his voice drop an octave? Why is he looking at me like he knows a secret about me?
“But a woman like you shouldn’t have to always take care of herself.”
My mouth falls open.And what kind of woman am I?“You know you sound as sexist as Henry.”
Cort shifts his seated position, setting those wide-spread legs around my stool. His knee once again touches mine. He arches one of his thick brows, eyes widening. “When we start talking about sex, it’s not going to include the lettersi, s, t.” The corner of his mouth hitches. Just the slightest teasing twitch, like a blink of a smile, and then it’s gone.
His expression sobers. “Seriously, though. You okay? Does that kind of bullshit happen often?”
I shrug. “Not really, but being a single mom . . .”
“You mean being beautiful.”
My mouth falls open again.What?
“Some men think it’stheirright to say what they want to say, when and where they want to say it. I don’t want you takin’ that shit, Little Bee. Not on my team. Not anywhere.”
I blink. Blink again. I hear what he’s saying but I’m stuck on one thing.
