Page 29 of Sticking Around

“Guess not.” I keep my opinion on it to myself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I pour him a beer and slide it across the bar. “Hey, I saw the smile on Zoe’s face when you gave her the umbrella. That was pretty cute.”

“Yeah, she really liked it.” I pull the card from my pocket. “Look what Gina gave me.” I hold it out and he takes it. “It’s a gift card to her café,” I explain. “Apparently, she’s new here and inherited a café. I’m curious to check it out.”

“That was really nice of her.”

I grab a rag and wipe a dripping tap. “She’s looking for new friends.”

He angles his head. “You think that’s why she invited you?”

“That, or for helping her daughter out.”

He goes quiet for a moment, and I can almost feel him trying to tunnel into my brain. “You think everything has a catch, a price attached, don’t you?”

I laugh, but it’s cool and bitter. “Are you saying it doesn’t?”

He holds out the twenty-dollar bill again. “He paid me back. Didn’t break his promise.”

“He did take lots of pictures with you.”

“Lots of people do. Doesn’t mean they want anything from me. They’re just happy to get pictures with the players they love.” I make a snorting noise and he continues. “Not everything has a catch, Lanie.”

“Whatever you say, Coddy.” I laugh and add, “She thought you were my husband.” I take a fast look at his face to gauge his reaction, and when his brows pull together, I laugh and add, “Ludicrous, right?”

“Yeah, ludicrous,” he agrees and suddenly it doesn’t sound so funny anymore.

“Coddy, get over here. We’re going to do cannon balls,” Theo bellows.

Jaw tight, face sober and unamused, he murmurs, “Jesus.”

“Not into cannon balls?” I ask.

He grunts. “That guy gets on my nerves.”

“I’m pretty sure it was just last month you were the ringleader for cannon balls.” My words instantly trigger a reaction in him. His face changes from serious and reflective to jovial, and playful.

“Yeah, maybe too much sun today. Nothing that a beer can’t fix.” He picks up his beer and I expect him to down it, but instead he takes a sip and walks away. He reaches his friends and sets his beer on a table, forgotten, and goes to the end of the pool and does a cannon ball. I chuckle as everyone watching yells as he splashes them.

He surfaces and bets his friends that they can’t make a bigger splash and I just shake my head at his antics. Fun and loud Brady. Everything I’ve seen over the last couple of months and have come to expect from him. But is it, though, Melanie? As that question fills me with more questions, my mind goes back to the softness about this man, the seriousness in his body, his face and actions when he says or does certain things. Hell, he couldn’t hide that seriousness when he talked about his family. At one point, I thought he was going to break down, and maybe that’s exactly what he needs.

The night drones on, and soon enough it’s closing time, and the guests make their way to their rooms or their vehicles to drive home. I catch a glimpse of Brady, some girl wrapped all around him as he practically carries her drunk ass down the stairs.

I try to push down my apprehension as I remind myself we’re not exclusive. We said we’d bang and poke until the pre-season. We didn’t say that we wouldn’t see other people. Honestly though, I’m not sure I want that. I can’t be with a man when he’s also with other people. As my stomach sinks into my toes, Deanna drops her tray onto the counter.

“This place is a mess.”

“You go on home, I’ll clean up.” Her eyes practically bulge out of her head.

“Are you serious?”

I nod, needing time alone with my thoughts, and the strange ache in my chest. That ache is there because I know what I have to do—end it with Brady. I can’t be doing this bang and poke with him when he’s with other women.

Is that the real reason, girl?

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