All he had that he could control.
Somewhat.
We’re two loses away from elimination. How you gonna control that, dumb ass?
He turned into the next bar, grabbed a stool, and rested his elbows on the bar top, inhaling roughly. “Jack on the rocks, please.”
“White?” Ford dropped the rag he’d been using to clean behind the bar. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and scooped some ice into a glass as he stared at Ian. “You all right, man?”
Ian shrugged, pulling his sweat soaked tank from where it was sticking to his chest. “Yeah. Just need something to take the edge off.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Ford set the drink in front of Ian. Because he was a damn good man.
“Not really.” Ian took a sip of whiskey, focusing on the burn. Then wondering if he could consider Ford a friend. Maybe talking to someone would help. That was part of a bartender’s job, right? He’d leave Ford a big tip. “Can I ask you something?”
Ford folded his arms on the bar top and grinned. “Go for it, Bruiser. I’m all ears.”
“If you saw Cort fucking another guy, would it bother you?”
The man’s jaw nearly hit the bar. Ford straightened, blinking at Ian like he’d just slugged him between the eyes. “Huh?”
“You’re close, right? And you’re with the same girl, so I’m sure—”
“I’m not fucking Cort. The asshole would probably fuck one of his beloved Redwings, but do you see me caring? Nope.” Ford’s tone sharped as he grabbed the rag and started scrubbing the bar like the soft cloth would sand out the watermarks. “He’s like a brother to me. Most of the time. And Akira loves him. So I guess that would be a better question for her.”
Maybe Ian shouldn’t have asked. Ford didn’t look uncomfortable. He looked mad.
Had Cort fucked one of the Detroit players? That would explain a lot.
And if Ford was a friend, maybe Ian should find the guy and give him a message.
“Are you in an open relationship?” Might as well clear that up first, since apparently it was a thing.
With a rough laugh, Ford shook his head. “No. Why would you ask that? You got a thing for my man?”
‘My man’. That’s what Pisch had called Ian. He hadn’t meant it, but Ford clearly did and Ian didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. “Fuck no. Just tell me the name of the player and I’ll deal with him, pal. Fucking with another man’s…man? That shit ain’t cool.”
Taking a deep breath, Ford shook his head again. Then laughed. “For that, your drink’s on the house. You’re a great guy, White. But no worries. Cort isn’t my…we’re not like that. He’s not fucking anyone else.”
“Just you and Akira.”
“Yeah…wait. No.” Ford groaned. “Dude, did you and Pisch finally hook up? Is that why you’re stuck on me and Cort?”
“I’m just trying to help.” Ian took another gulp of whiskey. Damn, he was slow. He’d thought he and Ford had something in common. He’d been very wrong. “And me and Pisch—”
Ford snarled abruptly, cutting him off. “You’re supposed to be working the floor, Sam! You gonna fuck her on the damn pool table, Cort?”
The big man, who worked security for the team, drew away from where he’d bent over the pool table, showing a cute little blonde how to adjust her aim. Harmless enough, but Cort apparently didn’t appreciate Ford’s comment.
He strode through the quickly parting patrons and slammed his fist on the bar. “You got an issue with me, Ford? Fine. But don’t take it out on that little girl. She’s been working all night. She gets to take a break.”
“Well, if that’s the kind of ‘break’ you’re taking with her—” Ford slammed a glass into the sink, smashing it. “Take it into the fucking alley.”
“Jesus, what’s your fucking problem?”
“We have a girlfriend. Or did you forget Akira already?”
Cort swung his fist at Ford’s face.
Ian latched onto the man’s arm before he could connect. “You don’t wanna do that, man.”
Letting out an irritated growl, Cort twisted away from him. He pulled up straight, glaring at Ian. Then tipped his head back and sighed. “You’re right. I don’t.” He wet his lips with his tongue, resting both hands on the edge of the bar and facing Ford. “Akira’s been here, playing pool with the guys. A few of them have given her tips, and it wasn’t a big deal because we know they respect her and aren’t gonna try anything. I thought you knew me better, Ford. Sam’s having a rough time. I was being nice.”
“I saw that.” Ford carefully picked up the glass shards from the sink and tossed them in the trash. “You done?”
Grinding his teeth, Cort inclined his head. “Yeah, I’m done.”
With that, Cort went around the bar, grabbed his jacket, and left.
And one thing became clear to Ian. Jealousy could be damn ugly. He totally got why Ford wouldn’t like seeing Cort touch another girl—he was probably worried about how Akira would feel. Except…Cort had made a good point about them letting her play pool with other guys.
It didn’t mean anything. And it shouldn’t.
There seemed to be more going on than Ford protecting Akira, but Ian couldn’t dwell on that. He’d reacted the same way over Pisch fucking Richards. Angry and jealous and unwilling to discuss anything.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be cool with seeing Pisch with other people, but he’d gone into this knowing exactly the kind of man Pisch was. And he still loved him.
So if he couldn’t deal, he needed to tell the man. And if he could…well, he needed to tell him that to. One way or another, he had to decide.
“You think I was a complete asshole, don’t you?” Ford refilled Ian’s glass and poured himself a drink, continuing when Ian couldn’t come up with a good answer. “You’re right. I should go talk to him. Probably before he punches a brick wall and hurts a poor, innocent building.”
Ian snorted. He could picture Cort doing just that.
“Mind watching the bar for me for a bit? Chicklet stepped out for a late supper with Laura, but she shouldn’t be long.”
“Sure thing, man.” Ian smirked over the rim of his glass. “Not implying anything, but blowjobs are as good as duct tape for fixing stuff.”
After giving him the finger, Ford headed out.
Moving his drink across the bar, Ian went to stand on the other side. He served a few drinks, double checking the prices on the menu, and poured himself another glass of whiskey.
The cute little barmaid came over, her blue eyes wide. “Am I in trouble?”
“Nah, I don’t think that really had anything to do with you.” Ian smiled at her, finding it almost impossible to tear himself away from those cornflower blue eyes. He’d always thought using a flower to describe eyes was stupid, but they were his grandmother’s favorite flower and the girl’s eyes were a perfect match.
She bit her plump bottom lip and ducked her head. “Oh good. I seem to be messing up everything lately.”
“I hear you, I feel the same.” He chuckled, his gaze drifting to the stark red streaks in her blonde hair. She was adorable, looked young, but the red gave him the impression she had a wild side. He glanced down at the swell of her breasts, pressing against the buttons of her tight white shirt. His dick approved, but he didn’t wait to be reminded that her eyes weren’t down there. He cleared his throat, grateful for the bar, which hid his swelling dick. “You want a drink?”
“Yes please!” She bounced in place, which made it even harder not to stare at her tits.
But he managed.
Kinda.
“Oh, and here’s the order.” She passed him a paper with barely legible scribbles. “My name’s Sam. Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Wh—Ian. My name’s Ian.”
“Do you play?”
Play? She really needed to clarify. Did she mean hockey? BDSM? Backgammon? “Umm…I play different things.”
She gigg
led and put her hand on the back of his. “Pool?”
“Yes. Pool. I definitely play pool.” Damn it, this girl was exactly what he needed. Once he got his head on straight again. She was sexy, sweet, and he wanted to get to know her. Even if just while shooting a few rounds on the tables. “When do you get off?”
“When the bar closes. But Chicklet said I can play a couple games when things are slow. The customers like watching me bend over the table.” She winked at him. “And then they tip better.”
“Are you looking for tips from me?” He cursed himself after the words left his mouth. He tried not to let chicks know he was an idiot before they’d gone on their first date. “I mean—”
“No, I get it. You’re making sure I’m not flirting with you for a few bucks.” She nibbled at her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling. “And I promise, I’m not. I just think you’re sexy.”
He liked how straightforward she was. He didn’t have to guess her game plan.
And a plus, she didn’t seem to recognize him. So she wasn’t a puck bunny.
Not that he minded the bunnies. They’d given him some awesome memories. They were usually upfront about what they wanted. It was the girls with an agenda he had to watch out for, but this girl didn’t seem like one of those. He was wearing faded jeans and a black tank top. No way she thought he had money.
“Can I ask you a question?” He filled out the order she’d brought him, only one last thing he needed to know before he played any kind of game with her. “Have you ever played pool before?”
She arched a brow. Then smiled. “No. But I won’t lie. I do like how helpful guys can be showing me how to hold the stick.”
“There’s a few guys in here that would be helpful.”
“True, but I’m bored of them. I have a feeling you wouldn’t bore me.”
He grinned, glancing over at the door as Chicklet came into the bar. He was free to enjoy the rest of his night.
Skirting around the bar, he stepped up to the girl’s side, steadying her tray when she almost turned right into him.
He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Honey, the last thing I am is boring. Get back to work. I’ll be waiting.”
This job rocked!
Sam couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Her tips were adding up to a good half a month’s rent after just one night. She’d gotten a couple of free shots, and everyone here liked her.
Granted, they probably liked her ass and tits more than anything, but she would take their smiles and sweet words, no matter how dirty their thoughts might be. No one treated her like a fuck up. No one looked at her like they needed to nail down their valuables.
And absolutely not a single person brought up the baby.
Because here, she wasn’t a girl who’d gotten knocked up and had given away the kid without a second thought. She knew how rare it was for a girl to get her figure back so quickly, but she would take it. She’d always been skinny, so her figure wasn’t back to that. Actually, she had more curves, but her stomach didn’t look that different unless she looked really close.
The men here weren’t looking for flaws. They were simply looking.
Enjoying what they saw.
The attention gave her a nice buzz. She hadn’t even considered shorting a single one of them on change, never mind stealing from them.
She might be getting better. Look at her go!
To top it off with whipped cream and extra cherries, she’d caught the attention of the hottest guy here. She shuddered when he whispered in her ear. Had to force herself to go deliver all the drinks. To smile and flirt with the patrons so she’d keep getting those tips.
When she looked back at the bar, she saw Chicklet talking to Ian. Chicklet caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up.
Damn, that felt good. Chicklet’s approval was like first place in a race. Like a winning scratch ticket. Like…the best thing ever.
She wasn’t sure if Chicklet was cheering her on for doing a good job here, or thought Ian was a good catch, but either way, she was happy with Sam.
It took about an hour, and last call, before she was able to join Ian at the pool tables. He was playing with a few random guys, laughing as he cleared the table and took their cash.
She took the opportunity to admire his hard body, her gaze trailing down from his broad shoulders, to muscular arms that she wanted to feel around her. To touch. Hell, maybe even lick and bite.
When he’d been bent over the table, she’d enjoyed the view of his nice round ass. She imagined it being firm, with just enough give to dig her fingers into. The thought had her feeling flushed, but by the time he noticed her, she had herself under control.
Barely, but enough to avoid jumping him, right here, right now.
“Hey, cutie.” Ian motioned to the table. “You ready?”
Taking a deep breath, she inclined her head, watching him rack the balls. “Yes. I kinda want to take you home, but we can play first.”
He positioned the stick to hit the white ball. Nodding like he hadn’t heard her.
Then the end of the stick snapped into the table. The white ball rolled a little to the left. And he stared at her. “Damn, girl. If you want to distract me, it’s working.”
Grinning at him, she rested her hip on the edge of the pool table. “Is it? That’s good.” She waited for him to set up the white ball again. Then decided turnaround was fair play. She leaned close, whispering in his ear. “But I meant exactly what I said. I want to take you home and do dirty things to you.”
He dropped the stick on the table and took her hand, pulling her against him. His lips hovered close to hers, but he didn’t kiss her. He let out a ragged exhale and laughed. “Do you think Chicklet would let me steal you away early?”
“She would.” Chicklet stepped up behind Ian, gathering his collar length, light brown hair in one hand tugging until he met her eyes. “Get out of here. Take her to your place and treat her right. You’ll answer to me if you hurt her.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ian’s tone was totally serious. He obviously respected Chicklet.
And they knew one another well. Did he come here often?
Chicklet release him and pointed a long, black painted nail at Sam. “Remember what I told you.”
Sam made a face, but she knew Chicklet was right. Between Sloan, Raif—which she hadn’t really done anything wrong with—and Cort, men in relationships were becoming more trouble than they were worth. What seemed like harmless fun to her got other people pissed off.
She didn’t want to deal with any more drama.
After grabbing her long black sweater from behind the bar, she gave Ian her arm and walked with him out to the street, letting him lead her as she considered how she would ask that very important question Chicklet had told her to.
Might as well be as blunt as she’d been with everything else. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
Ian snorted. “No. I wouldn’t be taking you home with me if I did.”
“That’s all I needed to know.” She hugged his arm as they strolled down one block. Then another. This was getting to be a long walk. “Umm…how far do you live? Did you leave your car at home so you could drink?”
“Uh…no. Actually, I stopped in after a jog.”
“How long was the jog?”
“About three miles.”
Damn… I’m definitely getting my exercise for the day. “So should we make small talk to pass the time? What do you do for a living?”
His jaw tensed. He shook his head. “Would it be weird if I didn’t want to talk about my job yet?”
Was he a criminal? From what Chicklet had implied, Ford had been into illegal stuff. And Cort…Cort reminded her of some of the bikers that hung out at the parties she used to go to. She liked them both, and she wasn’t in any position to judge. But Ian seemed like a nice guy.
Maybe he worked some crappy job and didn’t want to think about it.
“Not weird at all. You know what I do. Not much conversation
there!” She wasn’t sure what else would be a good topic. When she fooled around with a guy, there wasn’t usually much time to talk before. Or much need to after. She looked around at the dimly lit streets, loving that all the snow had melted and everything was green. “It’s nice out. Not too chilly.”
He chuckled and freed his arm to put it around her shoulders. “I agree. Good night for an extremely long walk.”
“Yeah…”
“Tell me what you’re into. What do you do when you’re not flirting with drunk guys?” He shook his head and groaned. “Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”
He really was a sweetheart. Most guys would have said worse and not thought twice. She smiled at him. “Not stupid. Honest. Makes me feel like you really want to know.”
“I do.”
“Well… I was thinking of going to school to work with animals, but I’m not smart enough to pass all the courses. So I need to figure out what I can do.” She wrinkled her nose. “The only thing I was ever good at is doodling in class when I was supposed to be learning. Not like I’m a great artist or anything. I like drawing stuff like you’d see in comic books.”
“Really?” His face lit up, like she’d just told him she owned her own personal gold mine. “Do you like comic books?”
“I love them! I used to borrow them from my guy friends all the time. I still have a few I never gave back…” She cringed, realizing she’d almost let it slip that she was a thief. Most of the books she’d ‘borrowed’ without letting the guys know. She had returned some, in exactly the condition she’d taken them, but she had over a hundred in a box in her room. None of which she’d paid for.
Ian’s bright smile never faded. “Do you like the movies? I know some suck, compared to the books, but I love them all.”
“So do I!” She giggled, relief flooding her. They had something in common that could fill the rest of the trip to his place. And he didn’t think any worse of her. “I started watching the old Batman episodes, and they’re so corny, but I think they’re fun. I can watch them for hours. And I don’t care what anyone says, all the Xmen movies rock!”
“I almost agree with you. First Class was lame though.”
Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8 Page 12
