“Did he say why?” Everly asks.
Kenzie shakes her head.
Brynlee takes Kenzie’s phone and drops it in her bag. “Oh well, his loss. Callen and Maddox are already down there. Let’s go.”
“I swear if Callen goes home and tells Dad anything about this weekend, I’m going to string up his balls by the laces of his cleats,” Everly grumbles.
“Dramatic much?” Brynlee plants her hands on her hips and glares because our girls will always defend Callen.
Forget Maddox. Bryn would throw him to the wolves.
But Callen . . . He’s a whole other story.
“Come on,” Gracie groans before she pops a big straw hat on her head and grabs the key card from the table. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”
“Oh, sweetie, we’re drinking breakfast. Your options are mimosas or bloody marys. But hey, olives are a veggie, now let’s go.” Everly opens the door with a flourish and pats my bodyguard, Charles, on the chest. “You’re going to keep your distance today, right, Chuck?”
Charles’s eyes find mine, and I can already tell it’s going to be a long weekend. “You know the rules, Miss Sinclair.”
Everly leans into my side and whispers, “You know we’re going to have to ditch him at some point, right?”
A small smile tugs at my twitching lips.
Maybe it will be one of those weekends after all.
Easton
“Why did we even bother taking the meeting if you knew you were going to decline the trade offer? Max Kingston has been trying to get your ass to play for the Revolution for years.” Pace has been a broken record about this for the past two hours. “You ever planning on accepting the trade? On going home? Could you even imagine the way the fans would lose their shit over the prodigal son returning?”
“I am home, asshole. Vegas has been my home for a decade. Kroydon Hills . . . Well, Kroydon Hills is the place I visit. That’s it.” I look around to make sure no one’s paying attention and shove my best friend forward. “Seriously? Prodigal son? Who the fuck says that kind of shit?”
“There’s a reason I’m your agent, E-man. I can spin shit into gold.” He’s not lying either. Pace was a good college hockey player, but he knew it wasn’t going any further, so he went into the family business. Now he’s one of the most sought-after sports agents in the country. He’s second only to his older brother, which has always pissed him off. “Now relax. It’s time to see your girl.”
I stop dead in my tracks, and Pace almost runs into me. “Stop with the my girl shit.”
“Dude. What crawled up your ass tonight? I’ve been calling that girl your girl for a fucking decade. She’s the goddamn Kingston princess, for fuck’s sake, and she looks like—”
I cut him off with an icy glare. “Watch it.”
He throws his hands up in front of himself. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself to get through the night, man. You can keep lying to yourself if you want to, but I’m your best friend. You can’t lie to me.”
“There’s nothing there. End of story. Now let’s get this shit over with.” I shake my head and move around some rowdy asshole, not giving a shit that he’s sloshing beer all over himself while a prostitute grinds her ass against his dick. Dumb fuck probably doesn’t realize she’s pay-to-play. Maybe he just doesn’t care. I remember those days. I spent a fuck-ton of nights drinking to forget, and there’s no better place to do that than the city of sin.
Spent half those nights on the phone with her too.
Somewhere along the way, she became my girl.
Not that I said it.
Not that she knew it.
But she fucking felt like it.
“She’s not my fucking girl,” I mumble again as a blonde bombshell catches my eye on the other side of the purple rope designating the VIP area. She’s dancing like she knows she’s drawing every single man and woman’s attention her way, but that’s not why I notice her. No. It’s the woman she’s dancing with. The tiny wisp of a woman, barely five foot two with long dirty-blonde curls and eyes the color of a stormy Bermuda ocean. The one who has her hands raised in the air and her perfect ass up against Everly, shaking her hips in a way that makes my cock hard. The one who’s all woman now.
“Yeah, buddy.” Pace smacks my chest. “Keep telling yourself she’s not your girl.” Pace smiles devilishly at a passing VIP waitress and orders two Macallen 18s. “Now don’t mind me while I go make myself a sandwich.”