Flynn let his smile fade. He couldn’t bask in Hamilton’s exuberance, because he was worried. Now he had something to prove, and if he messed up in any way, he’d look like an ass. Even sixty seconds out on that field could spell disaster if he made a mistake.
And he couldn’t have that. No way, no how. He needed to practice. He needed to work harder, play harder, fucking win hard.
No matter what it took.
Chapter Ten
“You look like you want to eat her whole.” Nick nudged Flynn in the ribs, earning a quick but irritated glare for his efforts.
“Shut up,” Flynn muttered, his gaze locked on the two women who approached them. Well, he knew Willow was at Aubrey’s side, but he really wasn’t paying attention to her.
He couldn’t tear his eyes off Aubrey.
“What? You’re just appreciating how fine your woman looks tonight.” Nick whistled low. “And she definitely looks fine.”
Flynn turned to Nick again, staring at him extrahard. “Why don’t you keep your eyes glued to your own woman.?
“Aw, jealous much? Gimme a break.” Nick nudged him again. Damn, that guy’s elbow hurt like hell. Of course, he used it out on the field when he was running through the opposition, so he knew how to wield it. “I can’t appreciate a pretty redhead when I see her?”
“Considering she’s not your pretty redhead, I’m going to say no.” They’d been waiting in the hotel lobby together for the past fifteen minutes, talking about the upcoming game, practice, the usual. Flynn had been distracted the entire time—and not thinking about the game, either.
He was too busy thinking about Aubrey.
“Hi,” she said when she stopped just in front of him, her lips curved into a barely there smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It was worth it.” He leaned down, brushed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips, and she stepped away from him quickly, her expression dazed, her eyes hazy. “You look beautiful.”
Her smile turned shaky. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly, her gaze skittering to where Nick and Willow stood next to them before returning to his. “You don’t have to put on a big show for them. I think Willow has us figured out.”
Flynn frowned. What was she talking about? “I’m not putting on any sort of show.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed in that cute way she had when she was confused. “Are you ready to go?”
He let his gaze rake over her. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves down her back. She wore a black sweater dotted with sequins, the fabric clinging to her breasts. And the jeans she had on made her legs look miles long. Or maybe that was the black stiletto heels. Whatever it was, she looked freaking amazing, yet all he could think about was how fast he could get her naked.
They took a hired car to a restaurant not too far from the hotel, the weather not allowing them to walk, since it looked like a snowstorm was blowing in. Aubrey sat snug next to Flynn, her thigh pressed against his, and he reached out, settling his hand on her knee. He leaned in the slightest bit, discreetly inhaling the fragrance of her hair, the scent of her skin, the smell that was uniquely, perfectly Aubrey. He could get drunk on it—she smelled that good.
She smiled up at him, and he leaned away, acting like he wasn’t trying to breathe her in. Nudging his arm with her shoulder, she returned her attention to Willow and Nick. All three of them were engrossed in an animated conversation about some crazy fan who wouldn’t leave Nick alone, and the woman was so extreme she followed him to every game. The fact that she was a sixty-eight-year-old grandma was apparently the best part of the story.
“If she starts sending you pictures when she’s wearing a bikini, then I’m going to worry,” Willow said, causing Aubrey to laugh.
Flynn barely withheld the sigh that wanted to escape. He loved the sound of her laugh. Wanted to be the one who could make her do that again and again. She deserved to be happy. He wanted to make her happy.
“She looks pretty damn good for sixty-eight,” Nick said. “I bet she’d fill out a bikini real nice.” He held his hands out like he was cupping a pair of invisible breasts.
“Oh, stop.” Willow shook her head. “Think she’ll be at Saturday’s game?”
“I bet so. Wavin’ her sign for me and calling me her baby, as usual,” Nick drawled, earning more laughter from the women.
Flynn smiled and nodded, not giving a crap what Nick was saying. Now he was stuck on the image of Aubrey in a bikini. Preferably a skimpy one, black against all that pretty, pale skin, with string ties on her hips that he could undo slowly…
“How about you, Foley? Got any crazy fan stories?” Nick asked, interrupting Flynn’s dirty thoughts.
Blinking, Flynn looked at Nick and shrugged. “Not really.”
“Please.” Aubrey squeezed his thigh, leaving her hand there. “You have tons of fans.”
“None that follow me to every single game,” he pointed out.