Page 73 of We'll Meet Again

“Well, you’d best make it then,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

He looked sharply at her. “Getting bold, are we?”

She didn’t answer, only continued to look expectantly at him, hoping her deep breaths didn’t betray the way her heart was racing.

“My point, Billie, is this,” he said. “Your fling with Knight has not been a problem so far. I would advise that you don’t let it become one.”

“Or what?” she challenged, ignoring the urge to argue the use of the word “fling.”

“Or there will be a swift reminder about who is not replaceable at this club,” he said, looking at the pitch. Then he met her gaze again. “And who is.”

He left it at that, striding past her and back toward the party. Billie was fuming. That was why he wanted to speak alone, so she would have no witnesses and no proof this time. And he did it at the baby shower because it wasn’t an official club event, just something Nelle put together out of the kindness of her heart, so they weren’t technically at work. This was a carefully planned attack, and she felt properly ambushed.

She needed this job if she had any hope of going to law school so long after university. And with Ethan’s encouragement, she had started looking at applications and putting documents together. She wouldn’t make the deadline for the fall semester, but she had a real shot at starting next January. But she would need money as well as the experience. And Tony knew that.

Worst of all, the football world was a boy’s club. If she were let go from Stanmore, it was unlikely she’d get a chance somewhere else if Tony got the word out it was because she dated one of the players and therefore his performance suffered.

The message was clear - she may have won a battle, but he was officially declaring war. Her whole career hung in the balance.

Ethan didn’t get much time to worry about Billie and what Tony was saying to her. Coach Warren had come to the conclusion, in what could only be alcohol-induced thinking, that a baby shower was the best place for Ethan and Peter to work out their differences. As soon as Ethan came through the door, Coach dragged him over to where Peter stood at the bar. Nelle was either very smart or very stupid to get an open bar for this occasion, and that distinction was yet to be determined.

“Alright,” Coach began. “Let’s talk about this like men. Peter, I’ll open the floor to you.”

“Pass,” Peter grunted, and took a sip of whiskey. From the looks of it, it wasn’t his first. His normally styled hair was falling out of place over his forehead. He had also loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. And his eyes were a touch glassy.

Coach frowned, but pressed on. “Alright, Ethan. Anything you’d like to share?”

“I’m not the one with the problem, Coach,” Ethan said. “If there’s something to be aired out it’s from him.”

“He’s got a point there,” Coach said. “C’mon then, Peter, let’s have it.”

“If he was on fire and I had a glass of water, I’d drink it,” Peter spat.

A humorless laugh burst from Ethan’s chest. “Gotta give you some creativity points on that one, O’Riley.”

Peter only flipped him the bird as he took another swig.

“Lads,” Coach said, exasperated. “Surely there’s a way we can work this out. I need you both on the pitch. So be serious. Tell me what’s going on.”

When neither Peter or Ethan spoke up again, Jordan, who had been watching with a bemused smirk, stepped closer to offer his guess. “Is this about Billie?”

Peter scoffed. “Please, anyone could have her.”

Ethan’s stomach turned. “Watch your mouth.”

“You don’t need to defend a girl like that, cowboy. She’s probably got Tony’s cock in her mouth as we speak.”

“Hey!” Ethan barked, and swiped to grab Peter by the collar, but Jordan stepped between them to hold Ethan back. “I told you to watch your mouth.”

Peter only sneered. “Have I struck a nerve?”

“You say whatever you want about me, O’Riley, but you will not disrespect her,” Ethan shot back. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“For now.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Billie is what she is,” Peter said, swirling the whiskey around the bottom of his glass like a Bond villain. The effect was short-lived since he swayed on the spot, catching himself on the bar. “I won’t say slut since you’re so easily riled up.”

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