Offside (Rules of the Game, #1)



Halfway through the night, I’d successfully avoided any run-ins with Morrison. Things were moderately weird with Kristen, but she was being friendly enough to Bailey. I had hopes that things would continue smoothly.

On my way back from the bathroom, I got roped into a conversation with a few guys from the Bulldogs—Palmer and Reed, plus a few others who weren’t total pieces of shit. We started talking stats, which turned into a lively debate about which NHL player was the biggest disappointment so far this season. It was Hancock, obviously. But try telling that to those guys.

By the time I excused myself, Bailey was at our table talking to Shiv and Kiara. Shiv tilted her head back, howling, while Bailey covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Bailey was more than nice to look at in that black dress. Damn. Who knew backs could be so sexy? But the way it dipped low, revealing all that bare skin, put very dirty thoughts in my head. Then again, she always made me think dirty things.

Maybe I could get her to keep those heels on later.

My gaze lingered on Bailey for another beat. Then I remembered I was supposed to be getting drinks. Stay on task, Carter.

I continued past the clusters of tables, heading over to the corner bar. As I drew closer, I caught sight of Morrison with a drink in his hand, watching my girlfriend like some kind of fucking stalker. He was angled away from the counter, pretending to look at his phone and fooling absolutely no one because his gaze was blatantly glued to Bailey.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Didn’t he have a date? Sophie or Sophia or something? Then again, I doubted her company would stop him from being such a creep. He’d probably ogle James right in front of his own girlfriend.

I caught the bartender’s eye, ordered, and stuffed a couple of bills in the tip jar while I waited.

Then I set a motherfucker straight.

“Don’t even think about it.” I leaned against the wooden countertop, facing Morrison’s back.

He swiveled in my direction and gave me a haughty once-over. “What are you talking about? Are you a psychic now or something?”

Didn’t need to be a psychic to know he was a cretin.

“My girlfriend.” I nodded at Bailey. “Do yourself a favor and stay the hell away.”

“Last I checked, this was a free country.”

I shook my head. “Not for you, it isn’t.”

“Calm down, psycho.” He scoffed, but a hint of fear shone in his pale blue eyes. He pretended to brush off his navy suit to avoid my searing glare. “Maybe I want to make things right with her.”

“And maybe I’m Mary fucking Poppins.”

He only wanted one of two things: to hurt Bailey or to hoover her back in. The first one wasn’t happening on my watch and the second one wasn’t happening in this lifetime or the next. Which meant he had zero reason to interact with her ever again.

Luke’s eyes darted over to the left, where Paul was standing with a few of their teammates—dirtbag ones. His posture straightened, shoulders squaring then. Right. He was feeling brave now that he knew there were reinforcements nearby. Too bad I didn’t care about that.

“Best mind our own business.”

“Bro.” I laughed. “Bailey is the definition of my business.”

The bartender returned with my beer and Bailey’s vodka seven and handed them to me. I thanked him before turning to face Morrison again.

“Pretend she has a restraining order against you. Because she really should. Do you follow?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I know you’re a little slow, so I want to make sure.”

He took a sip of his dark drink. I suspected the alcohol was making him even more obnoxious than usual. Hard to say, I guess, when that bar was already set so high.

“Last I checked, Bailey was an adult who could make her own decisions.” His voice oozed with an arrogance that matched his smug face. I’d bet good money that was the way he spoke to servers at restaurants too. What a douche.

“And she has made her own decisions. Repeatedly. You just don’t respect them.” My knuckles turned white as I tightened my grip on the drinks I was holding.

He was always a punk in settings where he thought he was safe from my wrath. With every word he uttered, every breath he took, every second he continued to exist, my constant low-level anger toward him crept closer to incandescent rage.

Having him within grabbing distance wasn’t helping my self-control. I wanted to pummel him. Had wanted to for some time now. But I needed to keep it in check until the next game. It would be sweet satisfaction to demolish him like I did last time.

Taking a step closer, I lowered my voice. “I know about your little car stunt, you piece of shit. I should drag your ass outside right now for that alone.”

“You know, your whole tough guy act is really lowbrow,” Luke said. “But I guess it matches your cheap suit.”

Pretty sure he wouldn’t know a Brioni if I strangled him with it. Morrison was a walking example of how money couldn’t buy taste—or class. But whatever. Quibbling over designer clothing with him would be a waste of time. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my night. Or hers. So I would keep it on a leash for now. As long as he didn’t go near Bailey.

I drew in a breath, steadying myself. “Just be smart and steer clear of her. Neither of us wants a scene. After all, we’re here for the kids.”

“Exactly.” Luke smirked, taking another pull of his highball. “Even you wouldn’t be crass enough to start something tonight.”

“See, that’s where you’re confused,” I said. “I don’t start things. I finish them.”

He made a face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Fuck around and find out.” I turned, then, and strode toward my girl.





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CHAPTER 49





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EXTRA LUCKY





Chase



My hope that the night would continue to go smoothly may have been unrealistic. First, my conversation with that lowlife Morrison, then Kristen ran smack into me. Literally. As I turned to leave the bar, she walked right into my chest. Given that I’d been standing there all along and I wasn’t exactly easy to miss, it was suspect.

“Kristen. Hey…” I took a step back to put some distance between us. Bailey was still at our table with her back turned to me, engrossed in a conversation with Shiv and Zoe. Where the hell was Penner?

She was making eyes at me—and I was trying hard to miss them. “How are you?” she purred.

“Good.” It was difficult, but I vowed I would make an effort to be civil. “You?”

“Great.” She took a sip of her drink, wrapping her cherry-red lips around the straw in a way that was intended to be suggestive and made me infinitely more uneasy.

“So, you and Penner, huh? Good for you guys.” Penner was a decent enough guy, which probably meant she’d eat him alive. I thought about warning him, but he probably wouldn’t listen anyway, and getting involved like that had the potential to stir up drama I didn’t need. Easier to steer clear of that tire fire in the making altogether.

Kristen glanced over to where he was standing with a group of guys from our team. Her face was impassive. “Yeah, I guess he’s all right.”

Damn, that was cold. Considering he brought her as his date tonight, I hoped she at least liked him a little.

“How are things with your girlfriend? Hailey?” Her arched brows knit together. “Kailey?”

“Bailey,” I said, for the millionth time. “They’re great.”

A frown glanced across her face, and she quickly forced a bland smile. “Oh, that’s nice.”

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