Page 22 of Vegas Baby

“Not a problem, I wasn’t much different at his age. My grandparents raised me and it drove my grandfather crazy.” Pop had been a lifeline after his mother was killed and his persistence had kept Howler on the straight and narrow.

“Your grandfather raised you? So did mine. He was the most patient of men,” Mr. Patel said.

Howler couldn’t picture Patel as anything but inflexible. Not a fair observation. Given the guy’s dislike of him, it was hard to be objective. But he had no choice except to give it his best shot. His reputation depended on it.

“Yes, and Xavier’s grandparents also foster kids,” Raina said, slipping her fingers into Howler’s. He glanced at her. She inclined her head, casting an encouraging nod toward Patel.

Biting the bullet, Howler picked up the conversational thread. There was no better way to connect with someone than with shared experiences. Sucky but true. “Yes, he’s quite the outdoorsman. They have a small ranch in Washington. He encouraged me to play sports since it builds character. Jaydeep’s really good.”

“He’d sleep with the soccer ball if his mother would let him.” Patel glanced over his shoulder at his son.

“I felt the same way about my first football.” After his mother’s death, the football became a sort of security blanket, until it deflated from overuse. Grams still had it somewhere, tucked in a box, but he was no longer a scared boy and he didn’t need anyone to protect him.

“No, you’re not sleeping with your football,” Raina teased.

“Okay, I’ll spare you that but I do take my responsibility to my athletes seriously,” Howler said, weighing his words. This was the perfect opportunity to plead his case but it wasn’t going to be without confrontation. The man had a warped opinion of him and he needed to set the record straight.

“Baba, come play with me,” Jaydeep called out, stopping the ball with his heel.

“In a minute.” Patel said before he met Howler’s stare once more. “I’m sure you do, but Veer is soon to be my son-in-law and I worry about his future.”

“Like any good father should.” Something Howler never had. Yet he’d learned to stand on his own two feet and fight for everything he had. He wasn’t about to stop now. “He’ll be a good fit for my agency. Not only is he a great athlete, but he’s hardworking and dedicated. I don’t take on anyone unless I feel they’re serious about their career.”

Patel considered his words, his finger against the case on his phone. “I’ve never questioned his dedication to the sport but football is a volatile career. It’s not sustainable.”

Shit, he was losing the guy. Better step up his game. “For many, it’s not obtainable but Veer just isn’t anyone.”

“He’s twenty-one and a top-notch athlete with two teams interested in him,” Raina said in a sure, no-nonsense manner that invited trust. Howler knew firsthand how persuasive she could be once she set her mind to something. He’d been on the defensive during most of their professional interactions, and it was odd to play on the other side.

She’d kicked the ball into play but it was up to Howler to get it into the end zone. “Veer needs good representation.”

“Representation like Xavier’s,” Raina said.

“You two make a compelling argument, but I’m not convinced. I’m sorry. I—” The phone in Patel’s hand began to ring. He frowned, glancing from his phone to his son, clearly torn.

Howler pounced on the hesitation. He needed to try a different tactic with the limited time he had. There was risk that he might lose the guy altogether but what was life without risks? “Look, I don’t want to tell you how to live your life any more than I want you to tell me how to live mine. But I do know one thing, sometimes it’s worth it to put down the phone and enjoy what you have. We’ll let you get to your call. Come on, Raina.”

As he walked from the pool, the irony of his statement hit home. Here he was, lecturing Patel about putting all his time and energy into his business, when he was guilty of the same thing.

Except Patel had a family. Howler hadn’t nor had he ever intended to have one of his own. While the knowledge never bothered him in the past, walking next to Raina in the high desert, brought home the enormity of what he sacrificed in the pursuit of success. His days were full of emails, phone calls, negotiations, and a myriad of other things. He worked 24/7 from morning to night, all for a goal, yet no matter what he achieved it came at a cost.

“What’s the score?” Raina shut the deadbolt on the hotel door and moved past the bed to the French doors of the patio.

“Seven to four, Mariners.” Howler lay on the bed in black boxer briefs, the remote in his hand, while he watched some sportscaster debating baseball stats with a panel of men, all dressed in suits, all thick-necked and muscled. Ex-athletes with the flair for talk. Like the man on the bed.

“It’s a shame to block this view,” she said, closing the drapes. As the white fabric fluttered into place, the room—most notably the bed—seemed much smaller, a figment of her overhyped imagination. “Do you mind if we crank up the air? I like a cold room.”

“Have at it. I hate being hot.”

Sprawled out on the white sheets, he was definitely hot and not temperature wise. Why had she never noticed how he seemed to exude masculinity, even while sedentary? Probably because she was blinded by her past tumultuous relationship with him and her embarrassment over her breakup with Sam. How much had he told Howler? They were best friends.

Unlike her exhibitionist temporary roommate, she’d bought modest pajamas to wear. Well, they seemed modest at the store. Once she’d put them on, the bottoms were rather slinky and the top clung to her breasts. Exhaustion tugged down her eyelids, overriding her instinct to put off the inevitable.

Inhaling deeply, she turned off her beside light, removed her robe and climbed into bed. The mattress enveloped her, the sheets smelling of linen and bleach. She allowed her head to sink into the pillow, her spine conforming to the softness beneath her.

“Some day, huh?” Howler hopped up, pulled back the blankets and slipped beneath the sheets.

His weight pulled her toward the center and she grabbed the side of the bed to stop her momentum. She waited until he settled before she lay on her side, tucking her hand under the pillow. “Yes, it was a long day. You’ll never guess what Mrs. Patel asked me today.”

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