Page 130 of Offside Devil

He looks over his bare shoulder, considering. Then he shrugs. “I guess it’s a fair trade.”

Sex for a shirt? Maybe.

But as Zane leads me by the hand through the lounge—most people don’t even look up to see the demigod walking bare-chested amongst the mortals—I don’t think he has any idea of the secret trade I just made.

I’m walking out of this bar with his shirt, but he’s walking out with my heart.

There’s nothing fair about that at all.

51

MIRA

It’s been a few days since the neon fever dream.

But I’m having flashbacks. The pulsing lights, thumping music, and screams of pleasure are taking me right back to that night.

“Why are they playing club music at a children’s trampoline park?” Jemma asks. “I used to get drunk to this song. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling nauseous. PTSD.”

Rachelle holds up a hand to shield her eyes from the strobe light flashing above our heads. “It’s like they’re trying to disorient us on purpose. I can’t even see my kid.”

Jemma stretches onto her toes to see over the crowd of parents hovering around obstacles that could be on the kid version of American Ninja Warrior. “Gallagher is in the ball pit. Aiden is helping him onto the side so he can jump in again.”

I see Aiden giving Gallagher a boost and my heart literally swells with pride. Aiden isn’t my kid—I know that. But he feels like mine. The fact that he’s been leading Gallagher around the trampoline park by the hand all morning instead of keeping up with the bigger kids is proof that he’s every bit as wonderful as I think he is.

I don’t know if it’s normal for nannies to feel like this about the kids they're hired to take care of…

Then again, it’s not normal for nannies to wake up in their employer’s bed every single morning for a week straight.

So Zane and I left “normal” behind many, many orgasms ago.

A stupid smile spreads across my face at the thought of him. It’s a bad habit I can’t seem to break. Not since we walked out of that cocktail lounge bathroom together.

He took me home, washed my hair in his shower that is spacious enough for two—no matter the position, as I’ve learned—and tucked me in his bed.

I’m more well-rested than I’ve been in years and I haven’t had a single nightmare all week.

All thanks to Zane.

Jemma groans. “Oh, great. My kid just popped up for half a second and then buried himself in the ball pit again. Looks like we’ll be bringing home a mysterious rash and RSV.”

“You sound like Jace,” Rachelle laughs. “He read an article about the germs found in a ball pit and hasn’t come back here since. I asked him to bring Gallagher and he said he blackmailed Zane into doing it instead.”

“I wouldn’t count on that happening anytime soon,” I chime in. “I think I’m taking that burden off his hands as we speak.”

Rachelle turns to me with a frown. “He sent you to do his dirty work? Oh, hell no. Just for that, I’m making Zane and Jace come with the boys next time. Let them suffer in this germed-up, sensory overload hellscape.”

“Oh, God.” Jemma jumps up. “Count Jalen out. I’m never bringing him here again.”

She runs off towards the ball pit and Rachelle busts up laughing. “Do you see Jalen?”

He’s hard to miss. He’s standing on a swing with his shirt and shorts stuffed full of plastic balls. He looks like a miniature Michelin Man. When Jemma gets close, waving for him to get the balls out of his shirt and get down, he escapes into the murky waters of the ball pit and doesn’t resurface.

“Boys,” Rachelle murmurs, shaking her head. “Age five or thirty-five, they’re all the same.”

I look around for where Aiden and Gallagher got off to and don’t see them. I’m about to ask Rachelle if she has eyes on them when she lets out a long, loaded, “Soooooooooo…”

I brace myself. Against what, I’m not yet sure. “Yes?”

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