Page 7 of The Breaking Point

“Like what, exactly? Catfishing women on Tinder?” I joked.

“I went to this club often.” Mac gave me a pointed look. “It caters to lots of different ... tastes. You might like it. I haven’t been going since Elodie and I started dating, and Zach has been wanting an invite, but if you want it instead ...”

We both knew our teammate Zach was even more of a horndog than I was. But he was the worst kind: he collectedwomen like trophies and then crowed about his exploits to the team afterward.

“Different tastes?” I repeated. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“You can do a trial run. They know me there. Let me know if you want an invite.”

A sex club wasn’t normally my cup of tea, but maybe it’d relieve this ever-present boredom I was feeling lately.

“Maybe it’ll get my mind off Grace Dallas,” I muttered.

“Were you guys close?”

I thought about the question, then shrugged. “Sort of. But like everything else in my life, I fucked it up.”

Mac and I talked for a bit longer, but Mac had to leave.Probably to “fix” something else on Elodie’s car,I thought in amusement.

I finished off my beer and was about to call for a ride when a woman approached me. She was just my type: gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, big boobs, and a nice juicy ass that you could bounce a quarter off.

“You’re Brady Carmichael, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes widening in shock.

I nodded. “The one and only.”

“That last game you guys played ...” She shivered. “It was amazing. I love watching you play.”

I wasn’t immune to her charms. She was totally the type of woman I preferred to take home.

“Thank you,” I said.

The woman reached out to pick something off my shirt. She giggled. “Sorry, but you had a bit of fuzz.”

She didn’t remove her hand, though. She made a point to run her fingers across my chest, her eyelashes fluttering. I didn’t stop her from moving her hand to my shoulder and then down to my biceps. She squeezed one, and her eyes widened.

“Wow. You must work out a lot,” she remarked.

“It’s kind of part of the job.” I winked and then made a point to flex my arms.

The woman made an ooh noise, like I’d just performed some amazing party trick.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Theresa,” she replied. “But my friends call me Tess.”

“Then should I call you Tess, too?”

Tess licked her lips. “Sure.”

I gestured for her to sit down with me at the bar, an invitation that she accepted eagerly. My brain, though, kept demanding to know why the hell I was wasting my time with this woman.

Even worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about Grace Dallas. As I stared into Tess’s eyes, listening to her talk about the most inane subjects, I could only wonder what Grace would think about this entire situation.

“One time I drank five Jell-O shots in a row,” Tess was saying, “and you know what happened next?”

I forced myself to smile. “What?”

“I fell flat on my face trying to run after Aidan Miller. You know, the basketball player? But he helped me up right after. I wish he hadn’t, though. I ended up puking all over him.”

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