Page 37 of The Head Game

So August was still driving around with the coat in his trunk. Now there was a thought, he’d driven to Buffalo so maybe he could drop it off at a donation bin here in New York if he had time.

Even better. It would be harder to connect it to him.

“Yeah, you’re definitely doing a service to humanity by getting rid of that ugly thing,” Nico said.

August tilted his head, studying him. Something seemed off. There was no snap to his tone, none of the usual sparkle in his eyes.

Maybe he’d been out late partying or something.

Certainly none of August’s business so he bit his tongue against the urge to ask if he was okay.

“If we’re done here …” August said, glancing at his watch. “I do need to start getting ready for the game. And, presumably, you do too.”

“Definitely.”

But Nico made no move to get out of the way.

With a sigh, August stepped closer, reaching for the door handle. His forearm grazed Nico’s hip and August made the mistake of looking up.

Nico smirked, his expression looking more like his normal infuriating self. “Any excuse to get close to me, huh, Manning?”

August shouldered Nico out of the way. “I’ll be going now.”

“Seriously. Want to grab a drink with me tonight?”

August turned to look at him, hand frozen on the doorknob. “You have to be kidding me. Why on earth would we tempt fate that way?”

Nico grinned. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I truly do not understand you,” August said, bewildered.

He turned the knob, grateful the door opened easily. For one horrible moment he’d imagined he’d find himself locked in there with Nico.

That would be just his luck.

August dropped his voice. “To be clear, no, I don’t want to meet you for a drink. Or fuck. Have you lost all your marbles?”

Nico shrugged. “I mean, probably. But what’s your point?”

August sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are the most infuriating human I’ve ever encountered.”

“Aww. Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” August stuck his head into the hall and glanced back and forth to be sure the coast was clear.

Nico stepped out too and kept pace with August, despite his attempts to shake him off.

When they were nearly back to the officials’ locker room, Nico made the universal “call me” sign with his hand, mouthing the words as he backed away.

He winked at August, then lengthened his stride, grinning at the security guard as he passed him. “Make sure you keep an eye on Manning tonight. He seems a little stressed and I’m worried he might stroke out. Wouldn’t want to have to call a medic or anything.”

The security guard laughed. “Will do, Mr. Arents.”

“Thanks, Willy.” Nico did some kind of complicated handshake with the man then walked away.

Of course Nico knew the security guards at every arena across North America. August had an uncharitable thought that he’d probably slept with most of them.

Will—or Willy, apparently—grinned at August. “He’s a funny one, isn’t he?”

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