Page 102 of Vegas Heat

The reporters gathered crack up at that, and the rest of the conference goes as well as it can. They ask me about what I did in my retirement, and I plug SFK. They ask me about my elbow, and I mention my surgeon by name.

But when they ask me about my personal life…that’s when I trip.

“Mr. Noah, is there a special woman in your life making the move to Vegas with you?”

The sports reporters here don’t give a fuck about my personal life, but this is Vegas. I’m not surprised an entertainment reporter is in the mix. Between the Vegas Aces football team and the different rock bands based out of this city plus the fact that it’s Las Vegas, this is a city ripe with entertainment.

No. There’s not a special woman making the move to Vegas with me.

But thereisa special woman, and she happens to be the daughter of the man sitting next to me, and I can’t have her andit’s fucking with me so badly that I’m nearly reconsidering the move here at all.

I wouldn’t do that.

I wouldn’t pull out, and I wouldn’t say those things to the reporters.

But imagine if I did. Imagine if I just let the truth out.

It’s not just the nature of the question throwing me for a loop, though.

It’s the fact that less than a minute before this reporter asked this particular question, the door to the media suite swung open, and Gabriella Grant walked in. She took a seat in the back of the room, and despite the spotlights on me and the microphones blocking my view, I still saw her walk in with an angelic glow surrounding her, and I haven’t been able to tear my eyes off her since.

And now I have to answer a question about a special woman when I can’t have the only woman I want.

We’re all keeping secrets, and there are even more we need to keep from the people interviewing me today.

I keep my eyes trained on Gabby, and I can feel their heat on me even from across the room.

After a pause that’s far too long, I finally say, “No. No special woman.”

Gabby closes her eyes as if the words physically plow into her, and I feel it, too.

The wind is knocked out of me at my bald-faced lie to the media, and I watch as she gets up and walks out of the room, taking what’s left of my broken heart with her.

CHAPTER 20: COOPER

I should have chosen a different bar. Any other bar in the entire universe, really.

But no. I chose the same place where I have the pleasure of sitting across the bar watching Gabby get shitfaced for the second time in less than a week.

I have the absolute privilege of watching what’s-his-nuts pull her in close with his arm around her shoulder.

I don’t know if they know I’m here. I was here before they got here, sitting in a corner booth across the way with Danny, who’s already on his fourth glass of whiskey and chatting up some woman who just slid into the booth with him.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with him outside of my time at the stadium, mostly as a distraction to get out of Troy’s house, but I’m not sure I can keep up with him. The guy has a different woman on his arm every night, and that’s not my style anymore.

I wonder for a beat if I should go back to the club. Troy gave me an open invitation, and my attendance would help me bond with Troy. Maybe it would help me see whether I’m making the right choice or the wrong one.

But I already know the truth. I’m doing what’s best for my career.

It’s why I’m sitting in a booth with Danny Brewer when I’d rather be the one slinging my arm around Gabby’s shoulder across the bar as she laughs with the other interns.

I signal to the waitress that I’d like another whiskey, and when she brings it over, she slides onto the booth beside me. She nods over at Danny and the blonde.

“Feeling like a third wheel?” she asks.

I laugh. “Yeah, a little. He told me it was going to be a fun night out, and then he ditched me for her.” I glance down at her nametag, talking softly enough so just Kelly can hear me.

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Men.”

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