Enforcer (Seattle Sharks 2)

Either way, after the past couple weeks I’d had, I couldn’t wait to get to drinking. Gage was giving me whiplash and my emotions were just as bad, jumping from wanting to board-check him myself to wanting to simply tie him to his bed and make him watch while I took control over his glorious body. I swallowed hard, the image sending a flush over my skin.

The club was packed, but not so much we couldn’t get our hands on two healthy portions of top-shelf liquor. A few sips and I was ready to rock, tugging Jeannine into the masses of writhing bodies on the floor.

A sick DJ booth took up half of the farthest wall from the entrance and she cranked out hip-shaking tunes, appeasing the throngs of people dying for a release. I swayed back and forth to the beat, the bottom of my top fanning out around me as Jeannine spun me in a dramatic move. I returned the gesture and we lost ourselves to the music, our moves, and the drinks. By the time we came up for air, sweat popped from my brow and I held my long hair off my neck to fan it.

“We haven’t done this in ages!” Jeannine shouted over the thumping of bass. “I’m out of shape!” She pretended to pant, fanning her face as we took a seat at the bar.

“Please.” I rolled my eyes after ordering another drink. She was fit and had more stamina than both Paige and myself combined. She’d always been able to outlast us at any event we’d ever attended together. I don’t know how she managed it. Usually, after a couple hours, I was dying for my yoga pants, an oversized T, and my bed.

The thought of my bed made me wonder again what Gage had chosen to do tonight with the house completely empty. A flare of jealousy sizzled in my gut when I thought about him bringing another woman home and I took a quick swallow of my vodka cranberry to cool it.

He wouldn’t do that, would he?

The look in his eyes right before he’d kissed me in the laundry room told me I was different than the girls he’d brought home night after night. And I had to be, right? We were friends, for God’s sake. I took care of his baby girl, loved her, and if he ever was honest with himself, he’d realize I’d been taking care of him too—making sure he was eating right, stayed on him about keeping pace with his rehabilitation exercises even though his shoulder was solid again.

Jealousy turned to anger in a blink, the realization that he kept himself closed off to me for more than professional reasons made me want to smash my empty glass on the floor. How could he group me in with the likes of Helen? With the women who couldn’t be trusted, who jumped from player to player as their news coverage grew. It was infuriating, especially when I knew without a doubt he felt something for me too. I knew it as easily as I knew when Lettie would have a meltdown.

“Want to tell me what you’re chewing on?” Jeannine asked, clinking her scotch against my glass.

I sighed. “I’m sure you can guess.”

“Still has his head up his ass?”

“Firmly.” I took another drink.

“He better extract it pretty quick. You’re a hot commodity and won’t wait around for him forever.” She eyed down the bar and I flipped my head around to see what she waggled her eyebrows at.

The man was blond, big, and gorgeous. He had a tight black t-shirt which strained against his muscles, and he flashed me a genuine smile. I grinned back before returning my attention to Jeannine.

“Ehh?” She nudged my shoulder.

I shrugged. Sure, he looked good, but he was no Gage McPherson. And I didn’t even have a hint of desire flicker inside me when I’d checked him out.

Jeannine’s shoulders dropped. “Seriously? Look at that specimen. He’s got generous between the sheets written all over him.”

I chuckled, what was wrong with me? Gage hadn’t claimed me as his own, and God knows I’d seen him with every type of woman under the sun—or more accurately, the rink ceiling. Why couldn’t I try with someone else?

The idea fizzled out as quickly as it had bloomed. “Maybe he broke me.”

“Well, we’re about to find out for certain,” Jeannine said. “Incoming.”

I barely had a second to turn around before the blond man stood behind me, so close I could smell his overpowering aftershave. It singed my nose worse than the vodka I currently drank.

“Hey there,” he said and I giggled. Not that he’d said something funny, but it was the way he’d said it, like something out of a cheesy chick-flick—all deep toned and throaty.

“Hello yourself.” I rose my glass toward the bartender, motioning for another one.

“Put that on my tab,” he said when the woman came back with my drink.

“No, that’s all right.” I shook my head. “Keep it on mine please.” I looked at the man, who had a surprisingly nice shade of brown eyes. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m good.”

Jeannine scoffed next to me but tried to hide it behind her scotch. I glared at her.

“No worries. I’m Chad.” He held his hand out to shake.

I took it. “Bailey.”

“Beautiful name,” he said, leaning even closer to me if that was possible. I could feel the heat from his body brushing up against my crossed legs, and I pushed my back against the bar a little harder.

Personal bubble much?

“This is my friend Jeannine,” I said. “We’re having a girl’s night.” I was flattered that he wanted to buy me a drink, I just wasn’t interested in what he had to offer. It wasn’t his fault, it was Gage’s. He had ruined me, it seemed, to even appreciating another decent looking man’s attention.

Jeannine wrapped her arm around me and winked at him. “Sorry, honey. She’s all mine tonight.”

He nodded, but didn’t move, and the near non-existent space was making it hard to breathe.

“Well, I’ve come here every weekend for the past two months, and you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” He reached over me to set his beer down on the bar, the motion forcing his chest to graze mine, and I jolted on the barstool. “You should break the girl’s night rules and dance with me.” He looked down at me, his chin practically touching my forehead.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I held myself back from physically pushing him away.

Jeannine stood up then, her hand in mine, readying to drag me to the dancefloor or the bathroom or anywhere but here.