I’d gotten my game back the night before and scored. I’d texted Dell and was hoping to leave this event as soon as possible and meet up with her for dinner to celebrate. Or maybe just to see her.
“Uh, I’m leaving my options open,” I said. “I’ll see you there, man.”
I checked my phone as I headed to my car. No return message from Dell. It’d been a couple hours. The same aggravation I’d felt yesterday when she didn’t show up at the rink on time surged through me again.
Sports talk radio distracted me on the drive to the hotel the event was being held at, but when I stepped out of my car for a valet, checked my phone and there was still no text, my muscles tensed.
I typed out another message.
Me: Hey, did u get my text?
I put my phone in my pocket, knowing I’d feel it vibrate when she responded. I resented being turned into a fretful woman by her. I was at an event with dressed up women who all had a drink in hand. I should’ve been checking them out instead of wringing my hands over where Dell was.
A waiter passed and I grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it. Shit, that stuff was sweet.
Niko approached with a nod. He was clean shaven and looked like some cougar’s night of fun just waiting to happen.
“The fuck?” I said. “Did you take a shower? You don’t smell like sweaty balls for once.”
He shrugged. “You’re probably mistaking the smell of sex. I actually get laid from time to time, man.”
“Let’s get a drink,” I said, moving toward the bar.
The place was loaded with women in tight dresses and tall heels. A lot of them were here with other women. This event was probably a hot ticket for hooking up with an athlete.
We’d almost made it to the bar when a woman stopped me, pressing a palm to my chest.
“Luke Hudson,” she crooned. “I’m a fan.”
“Thanks.”
“Lila Hathoway.” She held a hand out and I shook it, appraising her in a second. The way she held my eyes and smiled knowingly told me she was a sure thing. She had long blonde hair and tits that spilled out of her red dress.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Going to the bar?”
“I was.”
“I’ll take an apple martini.”
There’d been a time when a woman so bold would’ve made me hard on the spot. I loved a woman who knew what she wanted. But as I turned away from the 30-something seductress, the thought of having my chest clawed as she rode me didn’t sound that great.
Niko gave me a look that said he’d seen the same thing I had.
“Well played, asshole,” he said in a low tone. “She looks like an adventurous one.”
I’d looked at her, anyway, which was progress. This room was full of women I could snap my skid with. I pulled my phone out to check it. Nothing. Apparently Dell wasn’t interested in me anymore.
After I ordered a beer and the martini, I scanned the room. My disappointment over Dell surprised me. I wasn’t looking to start anything serious anyway.
A tall brunette with long legs caught my eye. And she was with a cute little blonde. No, she reminded me too much of Ryke’s wife, Kate. Even though Kate was pretty, it felt weird.
My gaze stopped on the back of a woman with long, dark red waves down her back. A black dress molded to the curves of her lean body. She reminded me so fucking much of …
Dell. She turned to say something to the guy next to her and I saw that it was Dell. Her eyes were made up and her lips glistened pale pink. My breathing grew uneven as I studied at her. She was beautiful. Sexy, happy, relaxed … and standing next to Todd fucking Landis.
This was why she hadn’t texted me back? Because she was on a date with Landis? Fuck that. She and I weren’t a thing, but she could sure as hell do better than him.
Niko cleared his throat next to me. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, man.”
I glanced at him, confused.
“You’re staring at Dell.”
“What the fuck is she doing here with Landis?”
The bartender sat two drinks in front of me and I found my wallet and passed him a bill. I picked up the drinks and remembered Lila.
“Thanks,” she said, suddenly next to me. She swept the drink from my hand. I tipped the bottled beer to my lips, searching for Dell again. Before I found her, I saw someone else who made me squint with surprise.
“I have to go,” I mumbled to Lila. “Nice to meet you.”
I pushed my way through the crowd and Jean Naughton, the owner of my Chicago team, grinned as she saw me approaching.
“Hudson!” she boomed. “How the hell are you, boy?”
She reached for me in a hug, her grandmotherly bosom betraying the shrewd businesswoman she was.