Page 29 of Pucking Amazing

It’s going to be a long fucking day.

CHAPTER 9

SYDNEY

A couple of weeks after my momentary lapse in judgment with DJ, I take a deep breath and step into a glittering ballroom, my stomach doing somersaults.

A sleek emerald dress hugs my body as I totter in unsteady stilettos, silently cursing my sister for convincing me these would make my legs look amazing. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ornate ceiling, illuminating the elegant place settings on white linen tablecloths.

It’s all so…fancy, worlds away from my usual grungy sports bars and pizza joints.

The team really went all out sponsoring this swanky charity gala, no doubt trying to repair their image. Here’s hoping a massive donation and some schmoozing will get the media vultures off their backs.

I’m beyond flattered they included me, the team’s lowly new girl, but my excitement wars with jangling nerves at the thought of seeing DJ and Tyler.

Things have gotten...complicated with those two, to say the least.

Heat rises in my cheeks as I remember my tryst DJ on the rooftop. I can’t believe that I let something like that happen between us, especially after turning down Tyler in part because I knew he had feelings for DJ.

But after that night out with Tyler and my conversation with Emma, my thoughts were a constant revolving spiral around Tyler and DJ. And when I walked out onto that roof and it was apparent that DJ was immediately more than game to hook up…I found that all of my mental resistance had disappeared.

God, the way his hands felt skimming my body, his lips on my skin...

I pinch my arm, pulling myself out of my horny memories. Can’t let anything like that happen here amid the city’s elite and a gaggle of nosy reporters.

I find my place card and nearly choke. Of freaking course. I’m seated at the same table as both Tyler and DJ.

Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

Grabbing the lone empty chair next to Tyler, I will my racing heart to calm the hell down, but he’s not making it easy. That tailored suit does sinful things to his broad shoulders. His sandy hair looks extra tousled, like he’s been running anxious hands through it.

Tyler meets my gaze and quirks a tiny uncertain smile that has my insides flipping.

“Hey Syd. You look stunning,” he murmurs, eyes roving over me appreciatively before he seems to catch himself and glances away. The tips of his ears turn adorably pink.

“Thanks, Ty. You clean up pretty well yourself,” I tease gently, trying to dissipate the awkward energy crackling between us. We’ve been dancing around each other for weeks, this unspoken attraction pulling us together even as Tyler’s feelings for DJ push us apart.

DJ chooses that moment to drop smoothly into the seat on my other side, his woodsy cologne swirling around me.

Trust him to convince my other seatmate to switch spots in 30 seconds flat.

Memories of his lips, his hands, the delicious hardness of his athletic body flash through my mind. I swallow hard.

“Well, doesn’t this cozy seating arrangement just make you want to send fate a fruit basket?” he drawls, signature smirk firmly in place as his brown eyes smolder.

His gaze drags over me slowly, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“Damn, Sydney,” he continues. “Forget the fruit, fate deserves a case of good bourbon for putting you in that dress.”

I roll my eyes even as a blush heats my cheeks. “Keep it in your pants, Casanova. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in public. At a charity event. For sick kids.”

“Hey, I’ve got nothing but pure thoughts over here,” he says, all wide-eyed faux innocence. “For instance, I’m thinking about how much I’d like to make a sizable donation. To the kids, of course.”

Tyler nearly chokes on his water. I glare at DJ, trying and failing to stop the corners of my mouth from twitching. Damn him.

This night is going to be...interesting.

My head spins as introductions are made around the table, a whirlwind of unfamiliar names and handsome faces, members of the business teams I haven’t met yet, and a few players that haven’t taken advantage of my counseling sessions.

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