Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“One finger,” chirped Lennox’s niece, Finley—who was also married to one of our offensive linemen. She sat across the table from us in the VIP section of a club owned by the friend of our head quarterback. She held up her left hand and wiggled her fourth digit. “I don’t think Aunt Brielle is gonna let you replace the one you already have on there.”
“Touché,” Lennox replied with a smirk, then he looked at me. “Don’t worry about stopping at nine, I’ll just switch them out on the other fingers.”
I laughed. “You’re the boss.”
“Damn right,” he grunted. Suddenly, he tensed, then yanked his phone from his pocket and answered excitedly. Lennox’s wife was due any day, so every time his cell rang, he expected it to be “the call.”
“Baby? Is it time? I—” He stopped, then sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Sure, baby. I’ll bring home some taquitos and plum ice cream. Yeah. I’m leaving in a few minutes. Of course. Love you too.”
Finley’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Who’s the boss?”
Lennox’s eyes narrowed as he stood and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “You’re still little enough for a spanking, Fin.”
Her cheeks turned pink, but the stubborn look in her eyes told me that Lennox wouldn’t like whatever she said next. “The only person allowed to spank me is Rhodes,” she said with a haughty sniff.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Lennox’s face turned purple and his head whipped around, looking for his nephew-in-law with murderous intent clear in his expression.
“Don’t you need to be getting back to your wife?” I asked, jumping to my feet and grabbing his arm. Anxious to avoid any injury to one of my best players, I started guiding Lennox toward the door that opened at the top of the stairs, which led down to the main floor. “Something about ice cream and Mexican food?”
Lennox glared over his shoulder, but he didn’t fight me when I nudged his shoulder to get him moving down the steps.
“If it wouldn’t make my niece hate my guts, I’d kill that kid for…” He gulped, obviously uncomfortable with even the thought of the girl he’d practically raised having sex.
“Just keep pretending they’re platonic friends,” I encouraged, biting back a chuckle.
Lennox grumbled all the way to the back exit, where I handed him off to a bouncer to escort him to his car. It was late, and the team owner was a fucking billionaire, so we forced him to have security in and around the club.
Smiling to myself, I decided to hit the bar before heading back up to the team’s private area. There was no need to make someone wait on me when I was already by the bar.
Besides the lack of crowds in the VIP section, I really appreciated the soundproofing that allowed us to have conversations without screaming at each other.
The music blared as I wound my way through the high-top tables, avoiding the edges of the dance floor in the center of the space since there were often jersey chasers just waiting on the fringes, ready to pounce the second they spotted a player or coach. Sometimes they would even settle for the freaking water boy.
One of the bartenders spotted me when I reached the end of the bar and lifted her chin in acknowledgment. “Usual?” she mouthed, and I nodded.
She was in the middle of what looked to be a big order, so I turned to look out at the crowd while I waited. I scanned the room, people-watching, but barely paid them much attention.
“Coach!”
Three of my players, Micah, Huck, and Raiden, ambled up to the bar, all of them grinning jubilantly, clearly still on a high from winning our game.
“Boys,” I greeted them with a matching smile.
We shot the shit for a couple of minutes, but after they’d ordered their drinks, Micah’s attention strayed, and he slowly took a few steps back, looking off to the side.
“Uh, I see someone I need to meet,” he mumbled before spinning around and marching in the direction he’d been focused on.
My brow rose while Huck and Raiden laughed. “Mrs. Right?” Raiden guessed.
Huck shrugged. “Probably just another Mrs. Right Now.”
Their comments surprised me because Micah had never struck me as the manwhore type. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a girl with him at a game. I thought I knew my guys pretty well, so it irritated me that I could have missed the mark with him.
“Is he that much of a player?” I queried.
Raiden shook his head. “The opposite, actually. Micah is determined to find his happily ever after.”
“Ah,” I replied, satisfied that I hadn’t misread Micah.
“But I’ve never seen him go past a conversation and actually go out on a date with any of these women,” Huck chuckled. “Which is why I dubbed them ‘Mrs. Right Now.’”