by Lexi Ryan
“I think I should get out of here before the fans and their cameras expect you to pin me against the wall or something,” Bailey says.
I arch a brow. “That could be fun.”
She smacks my chest. “Maybe another time.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and opens up the app for Uber.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a cab. I’m in no position to be driving anywhere.”
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I drove.”
She turns, scanning the room. “Why didn’t you get a ride with Keegan?”
I grunt. “He just got engaged. You really think he wanted to deal with taking me home before taking his fiancée to their bed?”
Her searching gaze stops when she spots them across the room, where Keegan has Emma pressed against the wall. She’s gripping his shoulder as he whispers in her ear. I like seeing them happy.
“Good point,” Bailey says. “Should we break it up to say goodbye, or just text and let them know we left?”
“Let them have their fun. You can drop Emma a text when we get in the car.” In truth, I’m glad Emma and Keegan are so wrapped up in each other. Bailey’s smiling and loose-limbed from the tequila, and I don’t want to share her right now. Fuck, I never want to share her.
I offer her a hand, and she takes it and follows me out to the parking lot. The crescent moon is high in the clear night sky, and the air has cooled twenty degrees since I finished practice tonight. It’s the magic of living by the sea. I wonder if Bailey would like that about living here.
“It’s good to see them both so happy,” she says, looking over her shoulder toward the bar entrance.
“It sure is.” I unlock my car and open the door for her before going around to my side and climbing in.
“Did you know he was going to do it?” she asks.
I nod. “He was nervous about proposing. He worried it was too soon for her, but he didn’t want to wait.”
“She was ready.” She grins then shakes her head. “Why do all our friends have to go through so much shit to find their bliss? Are they just stronger than everyone else? I think most people would have given up.”
She turns her head and her gaze locks on the bar again, as if she can see through the walls to the couple in question. I take advantage of the moment and study her for a long beat. Something tugs in my chest—an ache for something I gave up on long ago. “If you’re not willing to fight for it, it’s not really your bliss, is it?”
She blinks and turns to meet my gaze. “I guess not.” She looks around the car with wide eyes. “Holy hot car, Batman.”
I grin. Before now, she hadn’t seen my new Dodge Challenger, since I’ve never taken it to Blackhawk Valley. It’s the only outrageous thing I bought for myself since signing with the Gators, and in the scheme of NFL players’ outrageous purchases, it’s pretty tame.
She skims her hand across the dash the way another woman might caress a pretty dress or a handbag. “Has Sebastian seen this?”
“I sent him a picture the day I brought her home, but he hasn’t had a chance to drive her yet.”
Her lips twitch. “Pretty sure he’d jizz in his jeans over this car.”
“He can buy his own damn car now.”
She sighs, and her face falls. “That’s true. He could. I guess everybody from the old crew is doing pretty well.”
“What about you, Bailey? Are you doing well?” We both know she’s not—at least financially.
“I mean, I don’t play in the NFL, but Keegan pays me all right, and I make a little spending money doing the photography thing.”
Then why are you still living in the apartment in the bar? And why do you still wear the same tattered jean shorts you wore when we were back in the dorms?
Why is there a pile of bills for you at my house?
I don’t want to pry. It’s been a good night, and pushing her to open up only ever achieves the opposite. “Where are we going?”
“The Swan Motel,” she says, and when she gives me the address, my brows shoot up.
If she were staying in Seaside, I wouldn’t have to worry. Seaside is small and on the beach, and there really are no bad areas of town unless you have an aversion to tourists or assholes with too much money.
She’s staying on the west side of Destin, about ten miles from the beach. The farther you get from the beach, the cheaper the hotels are, so I’m not surprised.
“You didn’t have to get a motel, you know,” I say as I merge onto 30A. “You could have stayed with me.”
“Right. Because it makes total sense to plan a trip to ask for a divorce and then bunk with the guy I’m demanding it from.”
“I can see your hesitation, but I still could have given you a room to sleep in. I have plenty of beds.”
“What can I say?” she says. “I’m an independent woman.”
I grunt. I’m not touching that one. But when I roll up to the motel, I decide to reopen the conversation of where she’s staying. “This place is a shithole. Do they rent rooms by the hour?”
“Okay, snob.” She’s so fucking cute when she gets pissed off. I miss that. I miss everything about her. “Not all of us can afford the Ritz.”
I frown. “There’s a world of options between the Ritz and this place, Bailey.”
“Careful, Mason. Your privilege is showing.”
There’s a big banner taped to the wall out front, one corner hanging down, that reads 39.99 a night! I dig my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out two twenties. “Here’s money for your room.”
“You’re not paying for my room.”
I slide my wallet back into my pocket and give her a hard look. “Sure I am.”
“Mason, I’m not getting out of this car with your money.”
“Damn right you’re not. That’s to pay you back for a room I won’t let you use.” I put my hand behind her seat and turn to look out my back window as I back the car out of the spot.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I pull toward the exit.
“I’m taking you to my house.” When she puts her hand on my arm, I put my foot on the brake and sigh. “This place is worse than shady. Do they even wash the sheets between visits?”
Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, you are such a spoiled brat. It’s ridiculous.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me that room is somewhere you want to spend your night.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but when she meets my eyes, she closes it again. “It’s pretty gross, but I don’t need to be wasting money on a place to sleep right now. As I mentioned before, not all of us play for the NFL. I can’t afford to be picky.”
“You’re my wife,” I say, grateful for the excuse. I hate the idea of her sleeping here. “If people found out you were staying in a motel, they’d start asking questions. It’s one thing when you’re in Blackhawk Valley. You have a life there and presumably have loose ends to tie up. Until you make up your mind, let’s not raise any questions about why you’re not staying with me when you’re down here.”
“Okay.” She folds her arms and leans back in her seat. “But only because my buzz is making me tired and I’m too lazy to move.” She gives me a sleepy smile. “Can I at least go get my stuff, though?”
If she goes in her room, I’m not sure I trust her to come back. I wouldn’t put it past her to lock the door to her room behind herself and refuse to come out. I turn off the engine and hold out a hand. “Give me your key. I’ll go get it.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’m going to steal your fancy car?”
“You’re my wife. If you leave with my car, I don’t think it’s stealing.”
“Oooh!” She waggles her eyebrows. “So, what’s yours is mine?”
If she knew me at all, she’d know it always has been. But this is Bailey, and even though she’s rough and tough and independent, she’s also an awful lot like a nervous stray who will run and hide if you get too close too fast. Tonight, I want to know she’s saf
e in my house. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
The room is as disgusting as I worried it would be. Maybe blood isn’t splattered on the wall like I pictured, and the bedspread isn’t visibly dirty, but the carpet is stained and there’s an overwhelming odor of stale cigarettes despite the No Smoking placard on the door.
In the bathroom, wallpaper is curling off the wall. I gather all her things and go to the front desk to check her out before heading back to the car.
She’s slumped over in the passenger seat, asleep with her mouth open and her hands tucked under her shirt as if she’s cold.
My throat goes thick at the sight of her, at the thought of getting to take her home. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to cut off those thoughts before they lead me to a night in my bed with her. I know what this is, and I know what it isn’t. We’ll all be better off if I don’t forget that.
Four years ago . . .
Saturday nights are great money at the Pretty Kitty, but for once I’m glad for a night off. I’m hurting and stressed and want nothing more than to lose myself in a good, old-fashioned college house party. I can hear the music and smell the stale beer even before I come in the front door.
I’m still pissed at Nic for the way he wrote me off today. “Stop thinking this is some fairytale, because there’s nothing between us anymore.”
I’m still pissed at myself for telling him that Clarence came around. Maybe on some level I’m disgusted with myself for considering Clarence’s offer. I contemplated a line I swore I’d never cross.
I need this party because I can’t stop asking myself where I’d be tonight if Nic had wanted my help. I can’t say I would have gone to Clarence easily, but it eats at me to know I wouldn’t have rejected the idea outright. I would have considered it. And what does that say about me? Am I so close to whoring myself out?
“Bailey’s here!” a girl shouts as I push my way through the crowd to the drink table. She’s in my history class, but I can’t remember her name. “Tequila?” she asks, and she takes a swig from a bottle before offering it to me.
I shake my head and point to the keg. “Beer’s more my style.” Actually, I think beer tastes like piss, but if I start chugging tequila from the bottle like that chick, God knows where I’ll end up at the end of the night. I do my best to reserve hard liquor for smaller gatherings, where I know and trust everyone in attendance.
I find a red cup and stand in line to fill it. The chaos around me quiets the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since last night. This is exactly where I need to be.
My confession? The truth that I would never tell Nic? I love college. I was worried that I might not fit in with all these rich kids because, let’s face it, aside from the students here on athletic scholarship, the only people who can afford BHU without getting into lifelong debt are those who come from some serious family money.
Personally, I fall into the lifelong debt category. I wanted a chance at a life outside of Blackhawk Valley and at a career that doesn’t involve shaking my ass in front of strange men. I didn’t want to become my mother.
Any apprehension I had about going to BHU has faded with the realization that I have as much right to be here as the next girl. It’s not just the parties. I love the challenge of the classes and all the endless clubs and organizations. I even love living in the dorms—it beats Mom’s trailer, where there’s too much clutter and no AC.
Mia can’t come out tonight. She got a babysitting gig, and she likes to take any opportunity she can to pick up extra cash. I’m not going to let that stop me. After seeing her brother today, I need to let my hair down and dance—just not topless on stage.
I’m halfway through my first beer and swaying my hips to the music when I feel someone watching. Turning, I spot a guy across the room looking at me with unabashed appreciation. He has intense green eyes, dark skin, and a smile that might have made my stomach flutter if I was a little less jaded. He looks vaguely familiar, so I’m guessing I’ve seen him around campus.
After meeting my gaze, he waits, as if he’s sure I’m going to go to him. With those broad shoulders, thickly muscled arms, and big hands, it’s a pretty safe bet that most girls would. But I’m not most girls and my heart still belongs to the biggest bad boy I know, so I just smile and return to my drink.
After a few minutes, he appears next to me. “You live with me.”
I arch a brow. “Pretty sure I don’t.”
“Not with, near.” Grinning, he takes one hand off his red Solo cup of beer and offers it to me. “I’m Mason from the quad down the hall from you.”
“Hi, Mason from the quad down the hall. I’m Bailey.”
“I know.” His smile reaches his eyes in the most charming way, and when his gaze slides over me, warmth swirls in my belly.
“How do you know?”
“I asked your roommate about you. I’ve been nursing a crush on you since the day I saw you move in.”
That surprises me—not the crush, because whatever—but that a guy like him would admit to it. I’d expect him to play it cool and maybe be attracted to me but act ambivalent about whether I was interested in return. I like that he comes right out with it. It’s refreshing, even if I don’t have the time or emotional energy for cute boys with intense eyes and big hands. My life is way too complicated for crushes and feelings. “If you had such a crush, why didn’t you introduce yourself before now?”
His lips quirk. “The day you moved in, you were wearing short white shorts that stole my capacity for speech.”
“And after?” I’m surprised to hear the flirty cadence to my words. That’s not like me. Maybe I should blame Nic and the way his words made me feel today. I deserve a fucking minute to flirt with a cute boy who makes me feel good. Hell, after Nic’s speech, I deserve a whole damn month.
“You want to know the truth?” he asks.
“I always prefer the truth.”
“I was hoping you’d notice me. You know, so I’d have a better chance when I finally introduced myself.” He draws in a long breath. “But that wasn’t working, and I’m not that patient, so . . . here I am.”
My gaze snags on the guys walking in the front door, and my smile falls away. Clarence and the boys from last night. Fuck. Are they here for me?
A boy in a tailored shirt and tight jeans saunters over to Clarence and smacks something into his hand. He’s here for business.
I hope it’s too crowded in here for Clarence to see me. Maybe he doesn’t care—that would be best—but I no sooner have the thought than his gaze sweeps across the room and lands on me. I react instinctively, looping my arms around Mason’s neck and tilting my face up to his. “So are we going to dance or just stand here and make small talk?”
He blinks at me in surprise, but a beat later, a slow, sexy grin covers his face. “If the girl wants to dance, then I’ll dance.”
We ditch our cups and he settles his hands on my hips and holds me against him so the dance feels like something much more erotic. He’s a good dancer. He knows how to move his body without resorting to that awkward side-to-side stepping most boys do.
I’ve almost forgotten about Clarence when he taps Mason on the shoulder.
Mason doesn’t let me go, just arches a brow at the guy.
Clarence nods at me before looking at Mason. “Gonna need you to back off so me and my girl can go outside for a minute and talk.”
Mason looks at me, and he must see the fear on my face. Or maybe he feels it in the way I grip his shoulders. “If she wanted to be outside talking to you, that’s where she’d be. Why don’t you get out of our way?”
Clarence’s eyes narrow. “Do you think I’m afraid of a nigger?”
Mason stiffens, and he squeezes my hip and whispers, “Just a sec, okay?” before releasing me and turning to Clarence. I knew Mason was a big guy, but when he rolls his shoulders back to stare Clarence down, I swear he looks a foot taller and a foot broader than before. I don’t miss the way he steps in front of me, as i
f he’s creating a wall between me and this asshole.
“Everyone at this party knows why you’re here, and I imagine the cop parked in the alley out back knows, too. Why don’t you leave before somebody tips him off?”
Clarence shakes his head. “No pussy’s worth this shit.” He crooks a finger at his goons—never far behind—and leaves. Mason keeps his eyes on them until they’re out the door.
I deflate in relief.
When Mason’s attention returns to me, he watches me for a beat, and I wait for him to make some excuse to get away. I obviously come with trouble, and who wants to deal with that?
He touches my chin with two fingers. “I hope that was okay. It felt like you were afraid of him.”
I shrug. “He makes me uncomfortable.”
His green eyes search mine. “You okay?”
I nod. “Embarrassed that you had to deal with that, but otherwise okay.” He probably doesn’t even know I work at the Pretty Kitty and will run in the other direction when he finds out. I take a breath, preparing to rip off the Band-Aid. “I know him from work. The Pretty Kitty doesn’t exactly have all the classiest clients.”
“I heard you work there,” he says, as if I just admitted I work the drive-thru at McDonald’s. “I’m sorry you have to deal with assholes like that.”
“They’re a dime a dozen where I come from.” I’m still waiting for him to realize that I’m not like him. Still waiting for a sign that he understands what I do and why guys like Clarence think they have some sort of ownership over me.
Instead, he looks around the party. “Can I take you to a late dinner or something? It’s too loud in here.”
Maybe he’s a mind reader, because after seeing Clarence, I don’t want to be here anymore, and I was already thinking up excuses to leave. I love college because it feels like a different world, miles away from my old life and the world that’s got Nic in its claws, but tonight those worlds collided.
