Page 24 of The Love You Win

He looks pleased. “It’s a really great platform. Have you ever used it?”

“No. Can’t say I have.”

“I can get you a great deal.” He’s giving me bedroom eyes. Does he think offering me a deal on a weekend rental of some rando’s house is a flex?

“Thanks…?” Is this really happening? Baby-face Ken looks at me like I’m a sure thing. Like I must be gagging for his CEO dick. Too bad for him. I have no intention of finding out if he’s packing an amorphous blob down there like the Ken dolls of my childhood. I’m getting the hell away from him as soon as I get the opportunity.

“So, Isla, Jess mentioned that you recently got out of a long-term relationship.” There’s a predatory twinkle in his eye and my spine stiffens.

What the hell?

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Blake continues. He either doesn’t notice how visibly uncomfortable I am, or he doesn’t care. I grit my teeth when he scoots closer to me. So close, our knees touch. I immediately shift in my seat to put some distance between us.

“Yeah, well, shit happens.” I scan the bar, searching for an exit or an excuse to bolt, but Blake doesn’t seem to catch the tone of my body language, and he trails a finger down the length of my bare arm.

“It’s hard to put yourself back out there, isn’t it? You just never know if you’ll click with someone. If you’ll have sexual chemistry.”

Shudder.

“But when Jessica told me about you, I had a feeling we’d get along.”

Oh, he did, did he? Well, unfortunately for him, I’m not interested. At all. In fact, I would rather sleep with Maddox Graves—a man who clearly despises me—than the creep who’s pressing further and further into my personal space.

I want to leave. But this guy is just creepy enough that I’m nervous about him following me home. If Jess mentioned where I work, who’s to say she didn’t also mention what neighborhood I live in? As unlikely as that seems, I’m not willing to risk it.

I need a plan. Or a miracle.

eleven

MADDOX

“Dude. My balls are killing me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as Griffin plops his ass into the passenger seat of my noir Maserati Levante. I bought the SUV because I end up being the designated driver so often that it didn’t make sense to buy a hot little sports car. Plus, this is Minnesota, and the winters are brutal. Still, I love this thing, and they know if they puke in it, they’re paying to get it detailed inside and out. “Why the hell are your balls hurting?”

Griffin shifts in the passenger seat, adjusting himself before clicking the seatbelt in. “My waxing lady was in a bad mood today, man. She really went hard on the boys.”

Jesus. “Then stop getting your nuts waxed.”

Griff shoots me a look that tells me he thinks I’ve lost it. “I can’t ask the ladies to suck the boys if they’re all furry.” His eyes go all dreamy. “And I love when they just pop ‘em all the way into their wet little mouths.”

“Sorry I asked.” And boy, am I sorry.

“You should go with me sometime,” he says. He’s way too excited about the idea. “It could be team bonding. Just a bunch of bros getting their short and curlies ripped out.”

My balls shrivel up into my body at the mere thought. I roll my eyes as I head toward Navarro’s place. Logan’s already there, so we can head straight to the bar. “Have you already started drinking?”

Wright looks confused. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” I say, shaking my head. He spends the next five minutes trying to convince me that smooth balls are the key to happiness. I’ve never been more grateful for Bash and Logan than I am when they climb into the backseat. We’re all ready to blow off some steam after an intense week of weight training and conditioning, and Logan suggested a bar none of us have ever been to. Personally, I’d be happy sticking to our normal haunt. The beer is always cold and the women are always hot.

But I suppose it could be fun to try somewhere new.

I hand my keys to the valet with a warning to be careful with my car, and we head inside. It’s a cool space, and it has a hell of a lot more character and ambiance than Chasers. This place has black walls with textured damask wallpaper, a huge bar that spans the whole left side of the room, and giant cages hanging from the ceiling where scantily-clad men and women dance.

We head to the bar, where we all order a pint of beer on tap. I’ll nurse mine most of the night, but these three? They’ll finish the first drink in less than five minutes, which is why we settle in against the bar while scanning the place for an empty table. It’s crowded and loud, and when we don’t see any open tables, Logan flags down a harried-looking waitress and turns on the charm. She tells him she’ll have a booth ready for us within ten minutes.

My eyes wander to a woman in a bikini who writhes and shakes inside the nearest cage. The other guys scan the crowd, looking for women to take home with them. This isn’t a sports bar, so there won’t be puck bunnies on the prowl for a Rogues player, but that won’t stop any of us. We’re all dressed in game-day suits, and we’re getting plenty of appreciative glances.

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