Page 98 of Vegas Heat

She nods a little weakly. “Socials are part of my area of study.”

“Great. Then shadow Coop everywhere when you aren’t working on anything else for Joanie,” Troy says, and my heart drops somewhere near my nuts. “He can introduce you to the other players, show you the clubhouse, the weight room. Just run everything by Joanie before you post anything anywhere.”

Fuck. My. Life.

Is he fucking serious right now?Shadow Coop everywhere. Not your best idea, Mr. Bodine.

As if she wasn’t already ruining this experience for me, now I can’t even come here to the stadium to avoid her.

“Right. And I’ll be sure to check the clubhouse for any nudity before I allow your young daughter in there,” I say a little more snidely than I mean to.

Troy misses my tone, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s been playing footsie withSapphireunder the table for the last forty-five minutes. More and more I’m getting the image of him being a dominant over her on the third floor over at his nightclub that decidedlyisn’ta sex club. “Excellent,” he says, and I scrape my chair against the floor more aggressively than is necessary, stand, and thank everyone for their time before stalking out, my shadow following close behind me.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” she grits out once we’re out of earshot of anyone in there.

“Really?” I ask snidely. “Because it sure as fuck feels like you put him up to this.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” she practically screeches as we enter the Heart Level concourse.

“I’m not kidding you. Did you ask him to shadow me?” I hiss.

She’s so taken aback by my accusation that she sputters out a laugh. “Hell no! I haven’t said a damn word to him about any of this! I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

I blow out a breath. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I don’t think little of you.” And that’s the whole goddamn problem, isn’t it?

We walk silently side-by-side toward the escalator that will take us up to the third level, and the entire way, I fight every natural instinct to grab her hand in mine.

I also fight every natural instinct telling me to ask her what the hell is going on with that punk-ass kid she’s seeing.

Once we get up to the empty area that will soon be filled with structures and kids and their parents, I walk around a few beats while Gabby watches me carefully.

“What are you thinking?” she finally asks.

I don’t know how to answer that. I’m sure as fuck not focused on my purpose for being here, but telling her that feels out of left field.

“I think a large contained structure over here,” I say, pointing. “One of the ones where kids climb up all the levels and there are huge slides up at the top. Maybe a ball pit they can slide down into and play.”

She follows my finger to where I’m pointing. “Are ball pits a good idea? Won’t someone just have to constantly pick them up? And if they’re at the bottom of the slide, won’t kids just stay there and not move and then the next kid coming down the slide will crash into them?”

I refuse to admit I hadn’t thought about that. “They’ll be fine. Over here I was thinking a batting cage kids can play in, one ofthe kinds with an automatic pitch. And over there, a catching station.” I walk around the area until I’m standing near the wall, and she follows me, standing far enough away that I can’t reach out and touch her. A safe distance. “Then a circuit with different stations for activity around it. Jumping jacks at one, squats at another, you get the idea. And in between each exercise platform will be a spot to march in place.”

“What about trampolines instead of marching?” she asks.

I lean back against the wall and harden my gaze at her.

I don’t want her to be so goddamn beautiful and smart on top of it.

My nephews go bananas for those trampoline parks, and in my thoughts about the circuit, I was thinking about how adults would navigate it, not howkidswould. But this is for kids. Kids don’t want to fucking march in place. They want to bounce. They want to get their energy out.

They want trampolines.

I blow out a breath. “Yeah. Trampolines might work.”

She flattens her lips. “It’s not against the rules to tell me it’s a good idea, you know. A compliment wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You don’t think so?” I ask. I shake my head, and then I mutter a curse under my breath as I stare down at the floor.

“It would hurt me more than you, but that’s sort of the theme of our relationship, isn’t it?”

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