Page 55 of Dirty Pucking Player

“I’m trusting you, Bash, but I’m telling you right now, I don’t want to be out late tonight. The entire point of canceling practice tomorrow was for everyone to relax and recover from the game, to recharge.”

“I promise you’ll enjoy this, Coach, and it will be incredibly relaxing.”

Somehow, I doubt that.

Although, the long, hot bath and shoulder massage Bash gave me last week when he surprised me at the hotel in LA was relaxing. At least until he put his quick, talented hands to work on something other than my tense shoulders.

He is just so much…everything that it’s hard to keep a clear mind when he’s in the vicinity.

He’s just so…Bash.

We turn onto Highland Drive, and my unease grows. I stare out the window at the industrial buildings and dirty clubs lining the street. This area is part of the seedy underbelly of Vegas. There isn’t any good reason to come down here, at least not for me.

He turns us into a parking lot, and I glance up at the neon sign on the building.

I look over at him. “You have to be kidding me.”

He pulls up to the valet, throws it into park, and grins at me.

I scowl at him. “Bash, I am not going into a strip club with you.”

He barks out a laugh and shakes his head before he leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Spearmint Rhino is a fantastic place, Coach. Give it a chance.”

Hell no.

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head. “No, Bash. What the hell are you thinking? We can’t be seen together, especially in a place like this.”

He brushes his lips against my ear. “Already thought of that, Coach, and called ahead. We’re going in the private VIP entrance and will have our own room.”

Our own room? What the hell does that mean?

It makes it sound even seedier.

There’s a reason I’ve always avoided places like this—definitely not my scene—but I shouldn’t be surprised it’s where Bash would bring me. This place is very…Bash.

He grabs my hand and squeezes as a valet comes to my door. “Half an hour. If you’re not having fun, we’ll go. I promise.”

His bourbon eyes sparkle with humor, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth.

“Fine. Thirty minutes.”

Bash jumps out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition.

The valet opens my door and offers me a hand. “Good evening, ma’am.”

So formal for a smut show.

I feel like I should be bowing or something. “Good evening.”

A large man in a black suit steps forward and holds out an arm, indicating we should head down the side of the building instead of to the front door. “Right this way.”

Bash wraps his arm around my shoulder as we follow the man through a side door and down a dimly lit hallway. Deep bass from the music in the main club vibrates the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor beneath us.

The man motions into the room. “Your VIP suite.”

Suite? What the hell is Bash up to?

This all seems very elaborate for a “relaxing” night, even for Bash.

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