Page 13 of Mr. Charming

He chuckles, but it’s not a real laugh. He finds no enjoyment from my words. His forearms fall to the table, and he slides his chair closer. “You know I’m a private kinda guy.”

“Really? Because from what I hear, you like to share your privates with a lot of people. Women specifically.”

That damn smirk that annoys me and turns me on all at once creases his lips. “You know how good that certain part of my body is. It would be a tragedy not to share.”

I try not to outwardly show my irritation or jealousy. “Enough of the games. I’m here to sell tickets, ad spots, and merch so the league can afford to keep you all playing. You do know the oldest players go first, right?”

His smirk falls, and I don’t feel an ounce of satisfaction because of it. “Throwing shots? That’s how you want this to play out?”

“Just…” I hate that he can get me so flustered. This isn’t a good sign for what’s going to happen tomorrow when I’m trying to get all his teammates to respect me. “I want to be prepared. Who knows about our past?”

He turns away from me for a second before his eyes meet mine again. “The three guys out there.”

“That’s it?”

He nods.

“Coach Buford?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. I told him I know you through Aiden.”

“Then I’m sure you can make some kind of deal with those three to keep their mouths shut.”

He chuckles again, leaning back in his chair. Using his foot, he slides the chair between us out of the way. “Why would I do that? I’m not ashamed that you’re my ex.”

My mouth sours at the word ex. There was a time I thought I’d be his forever. “So, you want everyone to know you’re not against monogamy? You want to answer questions about what happened between us and who broke whose heart and?—”

“Fucking hell,” he says and runs his hands through his chin-length hair. “You know I don’t like my personal shit everywhere.”

“Neither do I, so how about you turn off the persona you use to make everyone think you’re someone you’re not, and let’s just have some real talk?”

His eyes bore into mine, and I blink, the intensity in his gaze unnerving.

The door opens, and Ruby stands there with two drinks. “You’ve been in here so long I thought your mouths must be going dry.” She places another rum and Coke in front of me and a beer in front of Tweetie.

She squeezes Tweetie’s shoulder and leaves after we both murmur our thanks.

He eyes my drink but doesn’t say anything. “The guys won’t tell anyone.”

“Good. This job is really important to me, so I’d appreciate their discretion. Tomorrow when they introduce us, act like you’ve never met me, and I’ll do the same.”

His jaw hardens, but he doesn’t argue. “Fine.” He tips back his beer. “Is that all?”

I sip my drink and stand. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t have to ambush me. You could’ve called me.”

“I don’t have your number,” I say, heading toward the door.

“I never changed it.”

“I don’t have it because I deleted it.” My hand lands on the doorknob, and I remain there with my back to him.

He huffs, and the chair skids along the floor as he stands. “You really think we can do this?” I hear him walk over to me, and I really wish I had my drink to coat my dry throat.

“Do what?”

“Coexist? See each other and not touch each other?” I don’t have to be facing him to know that his gaze roams down my body again. “You still…”

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