Not My Match (The Game Changers 2)

“Nothing, man, nothing,” is what Aiden settles on.

Devon crosses his arms. “You said the party at your place starts at nine. You’re supposed to supply beer. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten it yet. Maybe you should.”

Aiden huffs. “Plenty of time.” He glances at me. “You had dinner yet?”

“No.”

“Want to grab something?”

I am starving, but . . . “Ah, um . . . well, let me—”

“She’s having dinner with me,” Devon says, and I can barely keep my mouth from dropping open.

“Well, well,” Aiden murmurs as he takes in Devon. With a subtle shift of his shoulders, Aiden turns to me and shakes his head in disappointment. “Maybe next time, Giselle.”

Devon pulls him up by his arm. “I want Guinness. You drink Bud Light. Hollis likes Fat Tire. Sounds like a lot of beer. Best go find it.”

“Party?” I ask.

Aiden rolls his shoulders. “We’re watching an MMA fight. Dudes only, I’m afraid, or you’d definitely be invited.”

Then, he directs a long look at Devon, one that screams try and stop me and leans down to kiss my cheek. He brushes past Devon with a smirk and sends me a wave as he mouths call me before he exits.

With a silly grin, I watch him go. Of course I won’t call him. He’s fun and sweet and a huge flirt, but there’s no tug toward Aiden, no push-and-pull connection—not like with someone I know. Who’s really pissing me off.

A text from Topher pops up on my phone asking if I need anything and saying that he’s sorry he bailed on me at the bar, explaining he’s outside on a call with a coworker who’s having an emergency. I type out a reply, briefly explaining that the date was a bust.

The entire time, silence rings loudly in the room, reverberating and growing. I feel Devon’s eyes on me even before I move.

After tucking my phone back in my computer bag, I stand and face him, our gazes locking.

One, two, three, four, five—and he breaks, dropping his focus to somewhere over my shoulder.

“Dinner, huh? Don’t manipulate me like that again. I can handle Aiden. Topher’s outside waiting for me, and I’m leaving.”

“Fine.”

He wasn’t even serious about dinner! My fists curl.

He sighs. “Giselle. If you need someone to talk to about dating . . .” The words are dragged out of him, and he grimaces, his muscular body striding to me, then halting, as if he doesn’t want to get too close. “Look, I don’t mean to butt in, but Aiden isn’t someone you should . . .” He scrubs the shadow on his jawline.

If I weren’t annoyed, I’d feel sorry for him. It’s plain as day the man doesn’t know what to do with me.

“He enjoys yanking Jack’s chain; I get it—but a girl has needs, Devon.”

His lips part. “Giselle—”

I cut him off. “Thank you for the ice pack and getting me away from Rodeo, but no more of this telling me who I can see or how I meet them. I’m a grown woman.”

“Wait a minute, now,” he says as I make a move to sweep past him. He grabs my elbow, and I shiver at the licks of fire that trace up my limb. Stupid arm. I should chop it off. Why does it like him?

“Giselle.” His eyes drop to my mouth.

The way he says my name, raspy and low, gives me pause, and my breath snags in my throat.

“I know you’re a woman . . .” He stops, seeming to search for words until he notices his hand on my arm and releases me. Then takes a full step back. A long exhalation comes from his chest. “Sorry.”

He is acting so . . . strange. First the wedding, and now this.

Nerves hit as I contemplate my next words. “When Jack said I was off limits, did he give a reason?”

“Jack is your new brother-in-law, and he’s a protective guy. He doesn’t trust us.” He pauses. “Don’t be angry at him.”

“That’s for me to decide. So he didn’t say anything else—about me personally?”

Devon’s face shutters, his demeanor stiffening. He tucks his hands in his pockets.

“Devon?”

His green eyes lower, shielding his gaze. “Look, can we talk later? I’ve had a hell of a day and need to get going.”

He’s brushing me off.

My heart hammers, unease curling as thoughts tumble through my head. I shouldn’t be embarrassed to be a virgin. Plenty of people are. I am a sexual person. I can pen a scene between a tall sexy alien warrior and his earth girl that curls my toes, but still, the thought lingers that maybe I’m—

“I’m not frigid,” I mutter.

He freezes mid hair rake. “What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t mean what I said earlier. You misinterpreted—”

“I’m a virgin!”

Every second that goes by without him saying anything, just him staring at me as if I slapped him with a two-by-four, is drenched in tension. He inhales a sharp breath. Curses. Several times.