by Liz Lincoln
“Natalie? Hey, how’s it going?”
Speak of the devil. Carrie’s new husband, Seth, grinned as he approached, his smile wide beneath his neatly trimmed blond beard. He had a drink in each hand, one red and one clear.
Natalie introduced everyone, then said, “What are you doing here? I saw a couple other players.” No need to mention she’d only seen one. A very specific one. “There some kind of team-building drinking game going on?”
“Trask’s birthday is tomorrow. So Marcus put together a little gathering.” He nodded toward the back of the club. “We’re all up in the VIP lounge. You should come on back.”
Hell fucking no. “Oh, I don’t—”
“That would be great!” Sam wrapped her hand around Seth’s arm, her smile almost blinding.
Natalie kicked her friend under the table, and when Sam looked at her, Natalie cast a pointed look at his wedding band. Sam nodded subtly and let go of Seth to get her drink.
Still, she didn’t lessen her focus on the wide-shouldered man. “Natalie talks about all you guys so much. I would love to meet some of the players.”
Defeated, Natalie had no choice but to follow as they headed for the VIP lounge.
Chapter 6
The song ended, and before he could get pulled into another one dancing with Kate, Quinn stepped back. “This was nice, but I’m gonna head back to the guys. I don’t wanna miss the birthday toasts.” He hated dancing. He felt awkward and uncoordinated, unfamiliar territory. He usually felt comfortable in his body. But grace on the field didn’t translate to grace on the dance floor.
Maybe if he had Lem or Seth come over and threaten to tackle him, he’d feel more at ease. But the idea of landing on the wood floor with Seth coming down on top of him was less than appealing.
Kate ran her finger down his chest. He wanted to feel something beyond the basic sensation of touch. Some spark of interest. She was pretty and he appreciated women who didn’t wait for men to make the first move. If they actually had a chance to say more than five words to each other, she was probably a fascinating person.
But there was nothing there. She’d touched him just about everywhere from the waist up and he couldn’t drum up even the tiniest spark of interest. He might as well get a massage from one of the trainers. While they danced, he’d tried to imagine kissing her, running his fingers through her brown waves as he held her close. He hadn’t had sex in far too long and could use a hookup.
But the instant he imagined his lips touching hers, she’d changed. She’d shrunk a few inches, her hair faded to blond, her curves filled out just a little. And her feel and taste grew so painfully familiar, he ached.
Fucking Natalie. He couldn’t even try to imagine being with another woman without her trespassing in his thoughts.
Kate pressed her hand to one of his cheeks and her face to his other. “I’ll give you my number. We can meet up another time.” Her lips brushed his skin as she spoke.
He could get out his phone and take her number and then not call. That’s what the old Quinn would have done.
Or he could be honest. “Look, Kate, I’m really sorry but—”
“I get it.” She stepped back and looked at him, her expression a mix of disappointment and a touch of indignation. Which he totally deserved.
Her gaze flicked toward the VIP lounge, then back to him. “Any of your other friends single?”
Quinn sighed internally. She was only interested because he was a football player. It should make him feel better about rejecting her, but he wouldn’t deny that it stung. Still, he mentally ran through the players there tonight. Only Ricky Donovan was single, and he was already dancing with another woman. Trask didn’t have a girlfriend, but he’d brought a woman he was friends with. Quinn didn’t know the story there, but it seemed best to say, “I’m pretty much the only one without a date.”
Kate nodded, patting him on the chest. “I’ll see ya around, then. Good luck Sunday. I’ll be cheering for you.”
Quinn gave her a quick smile, then headed through the crowd to the lounge. He didn’t care about being elite and hiding from fans in the VIP area, but he liked the privacy. Liked that it was a little quieter and that he could sit on a chair and listen to conversations without having to yell. Even back in Vegas when he was into the party scene, he’d preferred to be a step removed.
The bouncer let him past the rope and he headed for the seating area where all his friends and their wives and girlfriends were. A few more women had joined them; Carrie Chamberlain was deep in discussion with a striking woman with long dark hair who tugged at something deep in his memory. He knew her from somewhere.
Then he noticed the blonde next to her and his heart stopped for a second. He couldn’t tell if he was angry or excited as he watched her gesturing to Trask and his friend.
Quinn’s heart kicked back in, a little too fast, and a charge of energy ran through him. Natalie was here.
Because of course she fucking was.
And the only free seat was on the couch between her and the dark-haired woman who he now realized was her best friend Annie. They’d met a handful of times in college.
Everyone else was sitting, so he felt like a jackass standing at the edge of the group. His only choice was to slide himself between Annie and Natalie. He grabbed his Sprite from the table where he’d left it. The ice had melted in his absence, but he sipped his drink and stewed. They needed to do the official birthday celebration soon so he could leave.
Every single person around him was drinking, except Jaron’s wife Tanisha, because she was nursing. The alcohol was going to become a major temptation if he couldn’t keep himself in a decent mood. He drank to bury his stress. He knew that much about himself.
Add in the frustration and temptation of Natalie, and he was fucked.
She laughed at something Trask said and the sound rolled through him like a sip of hot coffee, warm and energizing and a little sweet—he liked his coffee with sugar. Her long hair brushed over his forearm, bare from rolling up the sleeves of his button-down. He imagined wrapping it around his fist to turn her toward him. He clenched his muscles against a shudder.
He took another drink of his soda, annoyance burning through him that it didn’t contain something to shut down his overactive brain. That had always been his problem. He didn’t know how to quiet the unwanted thoughts except with alcohol and later pills. They worked as an off switch.
It was one of the things Meg and he were working on in therapy, establishing new off switches. But they hadn’t talked about one for Natalie yet.
Trask reached around and tapped him on the knee. “Hey, what happened to the girl you were dancing with? How come you didn’t bring her up here?”
Quinn shrugged. “Wasn’t feeling it.” He tried to keep his suddenly surly mood from showing. It wasn’t Trask’s fault Quinn had to deal with his ex on a night he’d hoped to relax.
He sat back with his drink for a few minutes, trying to find a conversation to listen in on that would engage his brain enough to shut down other thoughts. Natalie and Trask were discussing his kicking stats and how he was on pace to become the Dragons’ all-time leading scorer by the end of the season.
On his other side, Annie and Carrie were discussing something political relating to public schools. He was staying away from that discussion. Jaron and Tanisha appeared to be video chatting with their son, saying good night. The others were either too far away for him to talk to or they’d gone out to dance.
So he sat alone in the middle of the crowd.
Natalie shifted and her thigh rubbed against his. Despite the two layers of denim separating them, his leg burned as if it had been skin-on-skin contact. Awareness tore through him, hot and fast. He may have been merely able to tolerate her presence, but his body sure as hell remembered what it was like when they got along. When they couldn
’t get enough of each other.
And his brain still remembered that he’d fallen in love with her almost the moment they met. It was her smile. Wide and warm and a little playful. His teammate had been dating her roommate, and the first week of freshman year the four of them had spent an entire day hanging out. Jones and his girlfriend had been absorbed in each other, leaving Quinn to get to know the beautiful girl he’d just met. He’d felt connected to her on an elemental level right from the start.
His memory of walking her home that night was so vivid, it could have been yesterday. The other couple had long since disappeared, leaving Quinn and Natalie alone together. Sometime around one, tipsy and happy, they’d made their way back to her dorm. As they stood outside her door, he’d wanted to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted to kiss a girl in his life. Being a varsity football starter as a freshman, he’d never had trouble in high school finding girls who wanted to kiss him.
But when he took Natalie’s hand, intending to pull her close so he could get a taste of those full pink lips, she’d put her other hand firmly on his chest, maintaining the foot of space between them. “You’re a lot of fun, Quinn Lowry. Let’s hang out again sometime,” she said, leaning back just a little. Her movements were subtle but her message loud and clear.
They were just friends.
And they had been for more than two years after that. Until one night at a party junior year he’d been drunk enough to confess he’d been in love with her for all that time. And finally, finally, she’d kissed him. In a dark corner of a frat house, she’d slid her fingers into his hair and pressed her lips to his and he knew he’d found home. Knew he’d been right to hold on for all those months. Knew he’d finally found the person who accepted him, flaws and all, the way his parents should have but never did.
And for one perfect year, he had everything.
He threw back the rest of his Sprite like it was scotch and could douse the impotent anger inside him. Why was he even thinking about that shit? College was a million years ago, and he’d given Natalie way too much power then. He’d obviously loved her far more than she ever loved him.
He was never getting himself into that kind of unbalanced relationship again. It didn’t matter how much his body still wanted her. He could ignore it. Occasionally lose himself in a particularly hot memory as he jerked off. But his actual involvement with Natalie was done.
Unable to stand being so close anymore, he sprang to his feet and stalked out of the lounge to get another soda.
And motherfucking hell, he wished he could have something stronger.
* * *
—
“You two should go dance,” Trask’s friend Lila said, nudging him with her foot.
Natalie frowned at the other woman. Trask and Lila weren’t dating, but it still seemed a strange suggestion.
Oh shit. What if Lila was trying to set them up? Natalie didn’t date players. The optics of a reporter dating a player were iffy at best.
All the more reason to stay away from one particular player.
“I really…”
Trask grinned like a kid, crinkles appearing around his warm green eyes. “C’mon. It’s my birthday.”
“Tomorrow,” Lila threw in.
Trask ignored her and stood, hand outstretched.
Natalie looked over and caught Sam’s eye. Sam raised her eyebrows and nodded subtly but emphatically.
Of course Sam thought she should go. Sam wanted to hook up with a player. Having spent so much time around them, Natalie was far less enchanted.
Still, what else was she doing? If she stayed in the lounge, she’d have to keep pretending she wasn’t hyperaware of Quinn sitting next to her. That his arm brushing her bare shoulder didn’t turn her on like she hadn’t been in months.
Maybe she should have slept with Ryan in Vegas a few weeks ago—OK, he hadn’t been interested in it because of his girlfriend. But she needed to find someone to have sex with. Take the edge off. Surely then she’d stop being so intensely attracted to the ex-boyfriend who, though he didn’t know it and probably wouldn’t understand, had broken her heart as much as she’d broken his.
If only Trask were a good hookup prospect. But as needy as she felt, having a one-night stand with a player was an even worse idea than dating one.
Still, if she sat in the VIP lounge all evening, she’d never meet anyone else. If she danced with Trask, maybe there’d be another guy she could transition to.
What the hell? She was there to have fun. So she pasted on a grin and slid her hand into his.
Trask was a good dancer, his movements smooth and hinting at sexy. Not jerky like other football players she could think of.
Dammit, she was not thinking of that other football player.
A few songs later, Annie and Sam joined them on the dance floor, along with wide receiver Ricky Donovan. He danced about as well as his fellow wide receiver. But as a group, they were having fun, grinning, laughing. Natalie was enjoying herself. And because it was how her brain worked, one corner of her mind was sifting ideas around on how she could get a short post out of this night.
It was a good night.
A few of the couples joined them, Seth and Carrie, and Jaron and Tanisha, each pair clearly enamored with their spouse. Watching them made Natalie both happy and sad. Happy for the couples, sad for herself.
And then her gaze snagged on Quinn. He was dancing with another woman, this time a short, curvy Latinx woman who had enough moves, she could actually make him look almost like he’d found the rhythm. Almost.
Natalie hated the flare of resentment in her chest. She was not jealous. She was dancing with Trask. Quinn was dancing with that woman. It was fine. Because they weren’t together. They hadn’t been for years and they never would be again. Even if she could somehow get past her complicated feelings for him, he would never forgive her. How could he?
Her body and her brain were simply reacting on autopilot, memories overriding common sense. They were done. They’d moved on.
And it was fine.
Chapter 7
Of all the hotels the team stayed at for road games, the one in St. Louis was by far Quinn’s favorite. Mostly because the pool there felt more like a spa resort than a standard hotel pool. It was landscaped, with waterfalls and fountains and greenery. There was a rectangle section with lane markers to do laps, but most of the pool was a wavy oblong shape with two small coves that had seating, more like hot tubs. And the huge hot tub emitted an aroma like tropical flowers.
The whole place made him feel so fucking relaxed, he’d often considered coming during the offseason, just for a weekend getaway to this pool.
He sat back in one of the coves now, leaning his head on the side and closing his eyes. The scent from the hot tub area wafted over, relaxing him further. The only other person in the place was an older gentleman swimming laps, and the rhythmic splashes of his strokes didn’t bother Quinn. They blended into the background sounds of the two waterfalls.
After dinner and the team meeting, all his teammates had retreated to their rooms, maybe a few going to the hotel gym. But he was effectively alone in the giant pool spa.
This was perfection.
“So you’re really going to follow me everywhere? I can at least take a piss by myself, right?” Matt’s teasing voice cut through the silence, making Quinn’s shoulders tense.
Not because he didn’t want to see his roommate. But because he knew who was with Matt, who he’d been talking to.
Natalie.
Wasn’t that just fucking perfect? It wasn’t enough for the universe to wreck his solitude, they had to send her to do it.
“I promise, I have zero interest in following you to the bathroom.” Natalie’s voice held laughter.
Quinn lifted his head and opened his eyes. He assumed he’d meant to glare at her, b
ut the second his gaze landed on her, he froze.
God damn, he’d forgotten exactly how sexy she was under her clothes. But that blue bikini with yellow polka dots didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. And he didn’t need imagination to fill in the rest; he had memory.
Heat flooded his body at the memory of her dark pink nipples, how hard they’d get when he played with them. His mouth watered a little, remembering how sweet she tasted under that bikini bottom, how her whole body shuddered when he licked along the crease where her leg met her body.
Faaaaaaaahck. He needed to change his train of thought fast. Blood was rapidly rushing to his groin and if he didn’t stop, he’d have a hard-on for her to see. And he didn’t need that tonight.
Or ever, really.
They had some new passing routes they were implementing for the first time tomorrow. Wide receivers coach Colin Strassel wanted Quinn and Ricky to use them to outmaneuver the Stallions’ defense.
Nope, not working. Groin still heavy.
His mom had called last night while he was at Bubble. He hadn’t called her back. He should do that. Talk to her about anything. Anything that wasn’t Natalie walking down the stairs at the other end of the pool, the water lapping at her hips. Her belly.
Her breasts. Oh god, her breasts. He’d loved her breasts. Loved sucking her nipples and slipping his fingers inside her and making her come like—
Shit. Now he had a semi. That was the wrong direction. If Natalie came over to him and he had a boner…
His dad lecturing him when he was in rehab, telling him what a disappointment he was, how he should have been stronger, known better. That Quinn should have had more self-control, like he did.
Dad mocking his interest in cars. What a dumb pastime, especially since he didn’t even keep the cars he fixed up. Never mind that Quinn had no need for five, six, seven cars. Sweetness was enough. His dad didn’t understand the work was the goal, not the finished car. Cars were one of his off switches.
