Evan Zanders.
I unintentionally roll my eyes.
Fully dressed up to the nines, he probably took three times longer than I did getting ready as he brings his whiskey glass to his full lips, resting them on the rim before he takes a drink. He doesn’t see me, and he’s not doing it to be seductive to anyone in particular, but the guy naturally oozes sex.
It’s really fucking annoying.
I immediately turn back to the bartender. “I need my check and a box, please.”
“What?” he asks, confused, his eyes darting back to my full beer.
Tara’s warning of fraternization rings through my mind. The idea of finishing my food, beer, and ending my night with this hot bartender between my legs sounds fantastic. But not as fantastic as keeping my job.
If it were anyone else from the plane, I might stay and hide in the crowd while I finish watching the game, but the fact that it’s Evan Zanders, of all people, makes me want to leave even more. He was exhausting all flight, ringing the call light for absolutely anything he could think of, and if one of the other two girls went to see what he needed, he always sent them back for me.
He’s going to make my season on the plane a living hell. I don’t need him intruding on my time off too.
“I need to get going,” I tell Jax. “Can I get the bill?”
“Is everything okay?” He’s clearly confused, and I don’t blame him. I spent the whole time flirting with him, both of us having an unspoken hope of where our night would end once he’s off work.
But he’s an attractive guy with a bar full of women. He’ll be just fine finding a warm body for the night.
“Just gotta get going. Sorry,” I finish with an apologetic smile.
Jax brings me a box and my check, leaving off all my drinks from the bill. I quickly transfer my food and hand my credit card off to be swiped, but it’s too late.
Before my card makes it back to me, two large hands land on the bar top on either side of my body, caging me in. His fingers are long and slender, decorated with gold rings. Every knuckle is tatted, including the back of his hands, and his nails are cleanly manicured. I keep my eyes glued to the ridiculously expensive watch on his wrist as he leans down behind me with his lips close to my ear.
“Stevie,” Zanders says in his smooth velvety voice. “You following me?”
4
ZANDERS
Maddison stuck true to his word and went straight to bed after meeting with his friend for dinner. On the other hand, I refuse to call it a night at nine thirty, especially because it’s the first night on the road of the season.
I live for this. I get plenty of action at home and thoroughly enjoy my summers in Chicago, but there’s a different kind of thrill when it comes to pussy on the road. The unknown of who it’ll be, the excitement of where it’ll happen, the satisfaction that I don’t have to see them ever again if I don’t want to. That’s how I like it.
Which is why I didn’t reply to either of the girls from Denver who slid into my DMs earlier. The thrill was gone. It was no longer exciting.
“Another round?” Rio asks.
I quickly examine my half-full whiskey glass, knowing I don’t need another. I try to keep my limit to two during the season, especially the night before a game. It’s one thing to stay up late and get laid, but I’m not dumb enough to get fucked up and play hungover.
“I’m gonna nurse this one.” Raising my glass to his, I take another small sip.
Rio proceeds to lift his hand towards the server, signaling for a new drink—his third of the night. Which, if I’m still around by the time he tries for a fourth, I’ll make sure to stop him. I’m not the captain, but I am the alternate, and even though I fuck around, I still have responsibilities to make sure my guys are ready to go when it’s game time.
As I’m deep in thought about how this is my year to win it all—the Cup and the new extended contract I need to earn by the end of the season—the sexy server comes by with Rio’s fresh drink. But she doesn’t look his way while she places his beverage in front of him.
No, she keeps her sultry gaze locked on me.
“Can I get you another one?” She leans her elbows onto our high-top table, casually pushing her tits up even more. My eyes fall directly on them. “It’s on me.”
And my mind doesn’t miss the connection of where I’m looking and what she just said. I wouldn’t mind those being on me either.
Somehow, I tear my attention away from the slit in her cleavage that’s doing all kinds of things to my imagination. “Self-inflicted two-drink rule.” I raise my glass to show her my final drink of the night.