Page 45 of The Fake Out

He smirked, resting his elbow on the bar. “Getting to fuck those tits and that pretty mouth? Must feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

I frowned at the way he’d gone off script, but my irritation was forgotten when the guy behind me scoffed.

“Don’t get your hopes up. Gianna’s not a get-on-her-knees girl.” When I turned, Jake smirked. “At least not one who gives good head. She’s more of a cold, selfish bitch.”

I locked my hands into tight fists. Who the fuck talked about a woman that way? Especially Gi. Sure, she was salty and tough, but she was the opposite of cold. The woman was all fire and heart. But I kept my anger in check and continued with the ruse. “Huh,” I said with a shrug. “That must be a you thing. She and I don’t have that issue.”

A choked sound escaped him as he scrutinized me through slitted eyes.

“Jake, right? Nice to you meet you.” I held my hand out.

The guy looked like he was made from plastic. The skin of his face was too smooth, his eyebrows too sculpted. And the haircut was definitely worse up close.

“Wait, is this pencil dick?” Kyle peered around me, pointedly looking at Jake’s stubby fingers resting on the bar top. “Dude, he’s got toddler hands.” Then his eyes dropped to his crotch. “I get why she traded up.”

Rather than shake my hand, which was still extended, Jake balled his fists and tucked them into his pockets. He rocked back on his heels and frowned at me. The slight crease between his brows screamed confused, so I wanted to be clear.

“For the record.” I met his eyes. “Gianna is exactly my type of woman. Go right ahead and piss her off, because damn if I don’t love when she’s fired up. But hurt her.” Stepping close, I lowered my voice. “Hurt her, and you and I will have issues. Because I’m all fun and games until my girl gets hurt.”

With a thick swallow, Jake blinked twice. Then he spun and walked away.

“Damn, dude. You’re scary as fuck when you want to be.” Kyle chuckled. “That had unhinged written all over it.”

I turned back to my teammate and sent him a smirk. “Don’t fuck with people I care about.”

“Well, we totally made him feel like an ass.” Kyle laughed, holding a fist out for a bump. “We crushed that.”

Though I tapped my knuckles to his, I wasn’t sure I agreed. I was still fighting the urge to cut Kyle’s tongue out for even thinking about Gianna’s mouth or tits. And yet I couldn’t even bring it up without making him suspicious. Because normally I could take a joke. “Not a fan of the improv,” I said instead.

He shrugged. “Got us where we needed to go. Just don’t tell Chris. He’d deck me.” Kyle laughed.

I rubbed my palm over the top of his head, mussing his hair. He batted me away, but I half jumped on him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

With a firm push, he backed away and ran his hand over his head, smoothing out his hair. “Fuck off.” With that, he strode away, leaving me alone at the bar.

I called the bartender over and convinced him to pop the cork of a bottle of wine and hand it over. Then, with it in one hand and two plastic cups in the other, I headed back to Gi. She’d suffered enough tonight. Although the zoo staff had gushed about her signs and so had all the Revs and the donors in attendance, not a single person from the douchey firm’s table had even bothered to come congratulate her. Her company sucked. I always gave Chris shit for butting in and telling her she needed a new job, but the truth of it was that he was right.

“Come on.” I pulled her to her feet and guided her away from the crowd. As we left, the weight of at least a dozen sets of eyes landed on me, but I couldn’t make myself care who was watching us.

“Where are we going?” Gi asked as we wandered toward the water.

Although it was a quiet night, we were in Boston, and cars rushed past on the street surrounding the harbor. If we moved down away from the center, there was a breakwater in the salty ocean that protected the harbor from the waves of the Atlantic.

“I thought you might want some downtime. There’s a quiet place where you can see the stars and hear the waves.” Two things I missed. Growing up, I spent a lot of time by the water. Especially when I wanted peace from my large family and noisy younger siblings. My dad swore that the water quieted all the noise inside. And even though he’d been gone for almost a decade, those words always echoed in my heart.

“Are we in a hurry?” she asked, her breathing choppy.

I assessed her, taking in the way her chest was heaving and how she was almost jogging in stilettos to keep up, and quickly slowed my steps.

“Thanks,” she said. “All that lankiness isn’t something I was blessed with.”

“Thank God for that.”

She tipped her head, and a small line appeared between her brows.

“You without those killer curves would be sad.”

She rolled her eyes at me, but she couldn’t hide the slight lift to the corner of her mouth. Her heels tapped along the concrete as we moved farther from the noise of the zoo and the road. When we reached the end of the sidewalk and came to the five-foot brick wall. She glanced around, confused.

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