Page 36 of Second Go-Round

Face hurting from keeping my smile in place, I made my excuses to those I’d been chatting with and turned away, ready for the night to be over when it had only just begun. The heels I’d chosen to wear pinched my toes, the tight, sheath-like dress hugging my pre-menstrual bloat into place. Stifling my inner bitch, I slowly inhaled, imagining exhaling the shit I’d wanted to spew at the state’s representative. The asshole felt as though equal rights for all meant fewer rights for him.

He deserved to rot in the hell he believed non-straight people would wind up in someday. How the fuck he ever got into office in the state of Massachusetts, I would never know.

My curved lips rose higher when I caught sight of Uncle Bradley standing with a couple of men I recognized. Nick and Nate from my favorite sports talk show. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d conversed thanks to Uncle Bradley working for Pats Nation, and the sight of them promised me a night with less hormonal drama than there had been going on in my head.

Both men had at least a decade on me, were hot enough to warrant a second glance, and unfortunately were happily married to the loves of their lives. I couldn’t begin imagining being shacked up for good with a guy who was well-versed in one of my favorite topics.

Jarod knew football—

I cut off the thought since I had hardly anything to base the assumption upon. So what if he’d stated the per-season record of both the Pats and Steelers going into the season? Lots of men had knowledge of those stats, my dad included.

We exchanged pleasantries, and I thanked both Nick and Nate for their shout-out on their show that morning and for sharing information on how others could contribute toward the funds we raised for cancer research.

Minutes later, Uncle Bradley clutched my arm, pulling my focus from our discussion on what New England’s defensive coordinator had up his sleeve to stop the Packers the following afternoon. “Darnel Jackson is here.”

My head whipped toward the main doors, jaw dropping. “Oh. My. God.”

Both Nick and Nate snickered over my fangirling.

The rookie had ended up needing surgery and was out for a couple of weeks, and even though Uncle Bradley had told me Jackson’s cousin had leukemia years earlier, I never in a million years expected the man to show up. Along with him came an entourage—including a few front linemen from his team.

Night. Made.

Grinning and feeling giddy—downright high as a kite—I “allowed” myself to be dragged away from my two favorite sports show talk hosts to meet the guests I hadn’t known Uncle Bradley had invited.

Talk about a photo fest.

I didn’t lower myself to selfies but definitely had Uncle hook me up by being my photographer. He stuffed my cell with images to share once the night ended. Like a kid in a candy store, my gaze flitted from one Patriot to another, salivating to dig into their brains and learn firsthand knowledge from the game on a personal level rather than just what I’d heard on the news and in interviews.

Someone brought beer from the open bar. Clinking bottles around with a bunch of guys who towered over me—fuckers who actually played football for a living—made that ache on my face from smiling truly worth the energy I’d expended on the event.

The noise level had risen a bit in the ballroom atop the DJ in the room’s corner, and I leaned forward to catch what one of the men was saying, my gaze moving past him toward the doors.

Jarod, dressed to kill in a black suit, stood on the threshold, taking in the room.

Butterflies erupted at the same time my core clenched.

Like the athletes, I hadn’t expected him of all people to show up, even though the chances were high he at some point had helped care for Rosie.

My gaze flitted to the petite brunette standing beside him, and those butterflies withered and nose-bombed in my belly. The woman was gorgeous. Tiny. Dark to my stark red. She spoke, and Jarod leaned down to better hear her, his hand going to her back.

Were they together? Was she his date? Or was it the other way around?

Fuck.

Swallowing hard, I told myself it didn’t matter. Why did I care? The thought he was simply there as hired eye candy for the woman beside him didn’t gel since he worked for the hospital where Rosie went for treatment.

They moved into the room together, angling toward a group of people Uncle Bradley had told me worked at the hospital where Rosie went for treatment. Greetings were exchanged as though they were all well acquainted, Jarod’s hand once more resting on the woman’s back as he tipped his head, laughing at something another guy said.

My focus dropped to his fingers against the blue satin of the woman’s dress, remembering too well how he’d brought me to climax time and again, how he’d sucked my cum from them.

Shivers raced over my skin even as claws wanted to sink from my knuckles like Wolverine’s blade so I could go slice a bitch. Jealousy swirled like a noxious brew in my gut. Something I had no right to feel but couldn’t stop from churning my insides.

“Want another beer?”

Tearing my focus off Jarod and his…friend, I flashed a smile at Jackson. His teeth gleamed pearly white from a gorgeous shade of ebony skin. Add in the golden hue to his eyes, the black, curly lashes framing them, and the man would have easily been on my radar to gift me a dose of dick—if my brain hadn’t been so damn set on the nurse/escort on the other side of the room.

“I’m good, but thanks.” I touched his forearm lightly, allowing myself a bit of flirting since it earned me an appreciate third or fourth over by the man, and I needed a serious ego booster. “If you’ll excuse me?”

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