Down by Contact (The Barons 2)

God, these kids were little jerks. I’d hated it at first, but now I loved it. My mother would have smacked me in the head by now, but I found them hilarious.

“Yes,” I said. “I need all the publicity I can get to make people think I’m remotely likeable.”

“I know that’s right,” Simeon muttered.

The kids giggled. Judd smiled at Simeon like a loser.

“Why don’t you guys go get your stuff?” I suggested to the rest of the group. “We’re shutting down early to finish boarding up. Your parents will be here soon.”

There was a collective groan, but they complied. All but Brayden, who already had his small duffel bag and was impatiently waiting for his father. Shaking my head, I knelt on the floor and went back to gathering the padding that usually cushioned the floor.

“Are you coming over again, Coach Boudreaux?”

My head snapped up so fast something cracked.

Simeon ruffled Brayden’s hair. “Nah, kiddo. I’ll be here for a while, and then I have to take care of my place on Long Island.”

Brayden pouted. “Maybe after the storm?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Hands tightening around the pads, I forced myself to shove them in the storage totes. I used too much force and slammed my knuckle into the edge of the hard plastic bin.

“Fuck!”

Everyone looked at me. Grimacing, I held up my knuckle before sucking on it. Simeon arched an eyebrow. He turned to Judd and Brayden again.

“I’ll see you guys after the weather calms down, okay? Hopefully we’ll have practice on Tuesday as planned.”

Brayden waved and started for the door with Judd reluctantly following. He started to say something but appeared to think better of it after glancing at me. I kept sucking on my knuckle until they were gone and the rest of the kids trooped out.

“You went to their house?”

Simeon had returned to stowing equipment in boxes. “Yes. Last week.”

After we’d fucked, I silently filled in. Huh.

“Why?”

“Because they invited me over to dinner, and I didn’t mind taking the invitation.” Simeon closed one of the boxes and glanced around for tape. “Judd made gumbo.”

“Wow. He’s trying hard to get in your panties, ain’t he?”

“Sure is.”

There was a hint of a smile in his voice that stopped me cold. I went from frozen to breathless to fired up in the space of a breath. I got to my feet and crossed the room, pushing the box away to stand in front of him.

“You didn’t really fuck that clown, did you?”

Simeon scoffed. “Why’s he a clown, though?”

“Because he’s a fucking jersey chaser, obviously.”

“Maybe he just thinks I’m pretty.” Simeon made his eyes go wide, blinking long eyelashes at me. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re an idiot who fucks without thinking.”

I sort of expected him to get pissed off and go off on me so we could argue, but he just snickered. “Okay, Gavin Brawley. I haven’t heard that one before.”

He returned to his quest for tape, and I stood there like a jackass glaring at him. My anger was like a snowball growing bigger the longer my mind went downhill, courtesy of supplied mental images of their stupid gumbo dinner and what may have happened after Brayden went to sleep.

“Why would you put yourself in that position after what happened last time?”

“Wow, you really do sound like Gavin.” Simeon put his hands on his hips and looked. “Y’all really expect me to give up guys because of a bad incident? I already cut back on going out. I’m supposed to stay at my house alone?”

“You don’t have to be at your house alone. Last week I asked if you wanted to go eat like three fucking times, and you told me you were busy.”

“I was busy.” Simeon jerked his thumb at the doorway. “With Judd.”

Heat flooded my face. “So you can hang out with him and not me?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Because he’s trying to date me, and you’re not.”

I pressed my lips together.

“Isn’t that right, Adrián?”

“Yeah, whatever.” My nostrils flared. “So, did you fuck him?”

Simeon was on the cusp of an incredulous laugh. I could see it in every twitch of that well-formed mouth and in the crinkling of his eyes.

“What difference does it make?”

“I just wanna know.”

“Why?” he pressed. “How does it concern you?”

How did it concern me? Every response, especially the pissed-off ones, were offensive. As I evaluated all of them before spitting them out, I knew they’d send the wrong message even if I didn’t mean it the way they’d sound.

Because I have a right to know who else you’re fucking if we’re still gonna fool around was the phony retort that kept wanting to leap out, but it sounded too much like a sub about gay dudes not practicing safe sex. It was no way in hell correct or in line with my real concerns. But now that I’d started checking myself before opening my mouth, I knew it was all wrong.