Page 24 of Provoking the Punter

He didn’t stay and do anything extra the way he’d planned.

Returning to the hotel room was just another reminder of how shit his life was. Some people would do anything to be in his shoes. Some people would call him lucky for getting as far as he did.

He raked his fingers through his hair and paced. Fuck, how long until James convinced everyone else on special teams, and the coaches, that there was something wrong with him. The thing was he was lying and keeping secrets.

James suspected he was hiding something.

He had two options. Either he waited to see if James found out what had happened at the Copperheads, or he spoke to Caitlin and Oliviera first.

Given that he’d already told them there was no PR disaster waiting to happen…

He’d be gone…

Which would leave him as a free agent for next year. Assuming anyone wanted him. His agent thought the Troopers contract was guaranteed; James wouldn’t make it to the end of the season.

“Fuck.” He needed to talk to someone smarter than himself and who wouldn’t bullshit him.

He rested his head against the window and stared out at the city without seeing it. He needed to vomit out all his secrets, so they didn’t tear him apart.

Unfortunately, the one person he used to talk to was dead, so for the last ten years, he’d kept his mouth shut. He gagged as bile raced up his throat.

This was ridiculous. He was winding himself up.

As his father would say. He needed to get a grip and harden up because this was all his fault.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

“There is a man asking for you,” the maître d’ said.

Chester smiled as he poured the beer. He had not expected to be short-staffed tonight and to be behind the bar himself. “Is he gorgeous?”

The maître d’ lowered his voice. “It’s the player from the other night.”

So the answer was yes. Why the hell was Garrett here?

“I’ll be right there.” He glanced around the packed room, cursed his sick staff member, and then cursed Garrett, before slipping out from behind the bar. He’d sort this mess and be back in ten minutes. It would be fine.

He wasn’t dressed for the restaurant. He wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the Bathtubs and Blossoms logo emblazoned across the chest. What he normally wore if he was behind the bar, which to be honest, was often on a Friday and Saturday night because they got so busy, and he wasn’t going to sit around when he could make drinks.

He wiped his hands and slipped into the corridor that led to the restaurant.

Of all the nights for Garrett to turn up.

Yes, he’d wanted to see Garrett again, but not like this. He didn’t want to make a habit of hooking up out back.

While the bar was hectic, the restaurant was calm, though still busy. Grayson and his wife were at a window table, playing the happy couple. No doubt they wanted to stab each other. Grayson fucking deserved it.

Garrett stood by the door as if waiting to be seated. If he’d come into the bar, it would’ve been a hell of a lot less obvious.

Chester swiped up a menu and walked over wearing his best delighted to see you smile on, which was much better for business than his ‘Why the fuck are you here?’ scowl. He kept his voice cool and professional. “I’ll show you to your table, sir.”

Garrett frowned as if unsure what was going on. Well, that made two of them. He didn’t want Garrett thinking that anything was going to happen at work. It wasn’t something he should’ve done in the first place. But with Garrett only inches away, his body was having other ideas.

He pulled out the chair and Garrett sat, then Chester crouched next to the table and opened the menu as if we were about to run through options. “You can’t just walk in and ask for me. People will start to talk, and while I don’t care, I know you do.”

Garrett pressed his lips and glanced at the menu, acting as though that was all he was interested in. It wasn’t because Chester had seen the flicker of desire in his gaze as he’d walked towards him.

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