“Relax, James. I was kidding. I didn’t think you’d sleep with me tonight.”
Sober Bailey had made it abundantly clear on Sunday morning that she was not, in fact, a one-night stand type of person. I had no delusions about that changing soon. Though obviously, I wouldn’t turn her down if it did.
“Oh really?” She raised her blond eyebrows. “Then what about all that crap you said to me at the bar?”
“I was teasing you.” I shrugged, biting into the gigantic onion ring. Oh my god. It was almost orgasmic. Food always tasted exponentially better after games.
“Yeah, right.”
Our server returned, quickly setting down our plates. She slid Bailey’s chicken burger with sweet potato fries over to her, followed by my loaded double cheeseburger with regular fries, before disappearing again.
“Well, it’s half-true,” I said, picking up my burger. “I was teasing you in a playful way. Obviously, I was hitting on you too.”
There was no point in denying that part. Hostility aside, she was freaking gorgeous. My attraction to her grew every time we hung out. What muddied the waters was whether she was attracted to me now, in the absence of tequila.
I was pretty sure she was. But the death stare made it hard to tell.
Bailey leaned over the table, brow crinkling. She lowered her voice, like she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Does that actually work with other girls?”
Did she want honesty here or what? I guess that’s what I would give her.
“Most of the time,” I said, taking a bite of my french fry.
“Seriously?”
“You came back, didn’t you?”
“That was the tequila talking,” she snapped.
Damn. She was cute when she was annoyed.
“Huh.” I stroked my chin. “Isn’t that a country song?”
She placed her palms flat on the table, resting her forehead on them. “You are exasperating,” she muttered, still facedown.
“Back atcha.” I just wished I didn’t enjoy it so much. Liking the dynamic we had going on was problematic. But I put the fun in dysfunctional, so I guess that wasn’t a huge surprise.
Bailey lifted her head, curtain of golden hair falling in her face as she looked up at me. “Why aren’t you out celebrating your win and hat trick against us with all your Falcon buddies?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. In fact, I was missing at my own house party at this very minute. My phone, switched to silent, had been blowing up. “I guess that scene gets old after a while.”
“What, you don’t like having a crowd of doting fans throw themselves at you? That seems like it would be right up your alley.”
Honestly, being here with her, getting the gears, was far more appealing than being surrounded by a bunch of people who didn’t actually know me but claimed to think I was great because I could hit things with a stick.
I swallowed a bite of my burger. “Don’t you ever find it…superficial? That whole scene?” I asked. “We’re joined together by this single common thread, but otherwise, I’m not sure most of us would even be friends.”
She should know, as it looked like she was about to be ex-communicated by Captain Dickhead. I’d seen it happen before. But she hadn’t grasped what was coming yet, which made me feel bad for her. She didn’t deserve that.
“Deep thoughts from Carter over here,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Life of the Party. Don’t all the Falcons love you?”
“Ha, no. Ward and I are solid. And Tyler’s cool, odd duck that he is. But I’m pretty sure half the team would throw me under a Zamboni if they thought it would help them make the league.”
Bailey blinked slowly at that. “Okay.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Did you seek me out at the bar because you knew who I was?”
“No, I didn’t know. Not until you came back, anyway.”
“But you came up to me tonight to piss off the team,” she said.
“Honestly?” I pinned her with my gaze. “Partly. But also, it looked like you could use a friend.” When I’d walked out of the locker room, that stricken look on her face was all I could see. It pissed me off, especially because that douche Morrison had put it there. I couldn’t not do something.
She bristled. “I have friends.”
“And what were they doing while your ex was parading that chick around right in front of your face?”
Another flinch. Maybe I should filter my thoughts around her. I never really had, but surely I could learn.
“Amelia and Jillian are caught in the middle,” she said, looking down at her plate of food. “I’m sure this whole situation isn’t easy for them.”
An odd pang tugged at my gut. Sympathy? Pity? It was unfamiliar, and I didn’t like it. At any rate, these friends of hers sounded shitty.
“It’s nice that you’re thinking about their feelings,” I said. “But who’s thinking about yours?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You were thinking of my feelings tonight when you abducted me in front of everyone?”
“Of all the ways you could have left the arena tonight, do you honestly think that wasn’t the best-case scenario?”
“I guess…” She shifted in the booth, avoiding my eyes. “But you were trying to rattle Luke. Don’t act like you were doing me a favor.”
Rattled didn’t even begin to describe it. I would have paid good money to capture a photo of Morrison’s face when I threw my arm around her shoulders. It was the perfect mixture of rage, disbelief, and jealousy. As much as she was protesting right now, there was no way she didn’t enjoy that as much as I had.
“I’d say it’s a win-win, wouldn’t you agree?” While technically, Bailey wasn’t his business anymore, I was well versed in the inner workings of the male mind, and to Morrison, she absolutely was. That meant there was a 100 percent chance that he was losing his shit right now. The smug as fuck smile I flashed him pretty much guaranteed that.
Morrison wasn’t a direct threat on the ice—he didn’t even engage in fights when he was challenged, let alone start them. But he would send his minions to do his bidding, which meant I would probably need to look out for Bailey’s brother and a few of the forwards for a while.
There was a decent chance of a full-on line brawl with Callingwood in the future because of what I’d done.
Dammit. I had enough fires erupting in my own life, most of them self-ignited. Now I’d thrown kindling onto the perpetually smoldering feud between the Falcons and the Bulldogs.
Coach Miller was going to have my head.
“As much as I may hate him right now,” she said, “I am still firmly Team Bulldog.”
I shrugged. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Part of me did admire her sense of loyalty, however misguided it was.
When Bailey left the table to use the bathroom, I checked my texts. Ignoring most of them, I wrote Dallas back.
Dallas: Where the fuck are you?
Dallas: You ditched us.
Chase: Something came up.
Dallas: You mean someone.
Chase: Exactly.
The server came by with our bill, leaving the black leather folio on the end of the table. Bailey lifted her hand like she was going to make a grab for it.
I leaned over and yanked it out of her reach before she could. “Don’t even try.”
“You can’t pay for me,” she said, blond brows knitted. “This isn’t a date.”
“I’m well aware. And I’m still not letting you pay.”
“I don’t know whether I should thank you or throttle you.” Bailey sighed, slipping on her jacket. “Does that mean I owe you now?”
I pulled out my Mastercard and handed it to the server. “Well, you did grace me with your sunny personality over a meal, so I guess we’re even.”
“Har-har.” She rolled her eyes.
“Though you do seem marginally more pleasant now that you’ve eaten. Emphasis, marginally.”
“I guess I was kind of hangry. I spent all my money on—” She stopped and cringed. “Never mind.”