Page 32 of Stealing Home

“He’s also thirteen years younger than me,” I remind them.

Wren shrugs. “Griffin is nineteen years older than me. If he tries to pursue you, let him.”

I’ve toyed with the idea, but nixed it pretty quickly. “Nando is vindictive. If he found out, he’d destroy any chance Scott has of a career. And he’s good. He could go pro if he sets his mind to it. I can’t ruin his future by putting him in the crosshairs like that.”

“That sounds like his choice to make,” Bess says. “I mean, yeah, lay it out for him, but he’s not a child.”

“He’s only twenty.”

Wren rolls her eyes. “There’s no harm in getting to know him if he is persistent.”

Bess shrugs one shoulder. “And maybe it’ll be a fling. I bet it would feel damn good to be tossed around by that young god.”

Unfortunately, I had chosen that moment to take a drink of my Pepsi. Carbonation does not feel good coming out of your nose. “Oh my god! You did not just say that.”

She cocks one blonde eyebrow. “But I’m not wrong.”

I smile. “No, you’re not wrong, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been tossed around.” I rub my bruises, thankfully they’re barely there anymore. “In a good way at least.”

We clean up after we eat, and they head out to pick up kids and take them home. It’s odd trying to settle into a new space, but liberating in a way I haven’t felt for ages.

This entire space is mine. I can leave my shoes in the middle of the floor and no one will bitch at me about my mess. I don’t have to clean up after another person who sees me as a maid more than a wife. And sure as shit no one is ever going to try and coerce me into sex again. I’m free, and the realization leaves me giddy.

I tense when my phone alerts me to a text. I wonder if Nando has discovered the money I took from our account, or if somehow he’s already learned I’ve moved out. I just have to make it until Monday when my lawyer says he’ll be served. It’s way faster than normal, but after I explained the situation on the phone, he said he’d work through the weekend.

A smile stretches across my face when I see Scott’s name on the screen. I wonder if he’s got more revelations for me. Oddly, I’m not really upset there’s another woman, but I’m fucking pissed he is so brazen about hooking up with her where the team can so easily catch him. Disrespecting our joke-of-a-marriage is one thing, but I think rubbing it in my face is just an added benefit for him. He has to know I’ll eventually catch him if he’s been parading her all over town.

Hell, he’s introduced me to her a few times. I wonder if he got off on that. Showing off his mistress to his wife and patting himself on the back for being so slick.

“Hey, hotshot, don’t you have a game today?” I ask him.

“Not until tomorrow night. We are stopped for what I think might be the millionth bathroom break. I wanted to check in with you while I didn’t have thirty other men listening. Did you get set up in your new place?” he asks.

“I did. Wren and Bess left a little while ago. I’m meeting with a lawyer in an hour,” I tell him.

“Good, I couldn’t focus while I was worrying about you. I’m glad you’re going to see the lawyer. I’m meeting my parents for dinner right after the game, and I might be too busy to call.”

“We’re friends, remember? You don’t have to call me every night.”

“I’ll accept it for now, because you say it’s what you need. But I want a chance with you, Low.”

“Rest tonight and win your game tomorrow, hotshot, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

He chuckles, and the sound awakens feelings of lust I haven’t felt in a long time. “Can’t wait, gorgeous. See you soon.” He hangs up, and I know I’m in trouble, because I don’t know if I can resist him. I’m not sure I even want to try.

12

Scott

Ten hours is a long fuckingtime to be trapped on a bus when there’s a beautiful woman waiting for you. Add in thirty-nine other players, the coaching staff, and the trainers, and there’s far too many people crowding me in. It doesn’t matter how popular I get, I still get anxious in a crowd. My teammates aren’t great at boundaries.

Marco leans over the back of my seat and slaps me on the shoulder. “What do you say, hookup king? Are you going to grace your adoring fans with your presence?”

I lean away from him. “How many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me that? What the hell are you talking about anyway?”

“These asshats are throwing another party at the house,” Campbell says. Odd coming from him. He attends every party thrown, and I think he believes he should be living in the house.

“Count me out,” I say looking at my phone for the hundredth time to make sure Harlow hasn’t changed her mind about dinner.

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