Yeah, because he had three girls with him.
“Hey. I don’t think we’ve met,” comes a male voice who’s joined our little circle. “Aiden Woods, quarterback. Saw you walk in. Love the pants.”
Damn these pants. I take my eyes off Jack to see the guy who has slid up next to us. He’s young, a classic boy-next-door type, his chin square, dimples in his cheeks. He takes my hand and shakes it.
“Alabama, chill. She’s with Jack and me,” Devon says in exasperation.
Aiden—or Alabama—gives me a wide smile. “You open for a foursome too?”
“She doesn’t do that,” Jack growls. “She’s not a jersey chaser.”
I don’t even know what a jersey chaser is.
“Huh. I haven’t seen you around. You got a name?” Alabama asks me, ignoring them. He hits me with light-blue eyes and an award-winning smile.
Jack bumps his shoulder with his. “No, she doesn’t have a name for you. She’s with me. She’s a lady.”
Well.
Well.
First I picked him up, and now I’m a lady? Does he have emotional whiplash?
Jack’s got his focus on Alabama, who seems cool as a cucumber, even after the shoulder bump. I sense backstory.
“I like ladies,” Alabama murmurs, giving me a cocky grin. “I take it you’re friends with Jack. How did you two meet?”
I lick my lips, choosing my words carefully. I may be angry with Jack, but I don’t want to cause any problems for him. “We just met,” I tell him.
“Really?” he replies. “Because he’s barely taken his eyes off you since you walked up. Did you call him ‘weatherman’? Is that a cute nickname you two have?”
Alabama is pushy—but charming with that southern accent.
“No,” I reply. Short. Succinct.
Jack’s nose flares as he watches us. He leans down and whispers something in Devon’s ear, too low for me to hear. Devon watches my face, listening to Jack and nodding.
“I bet they’re plotting to get you away from me,” Alabama murmurs as he leans his head down to me. “Jack’s a bit territorial. You sure you guys aren’t dating?”
“Nope.” We just had sex.
“Which means you’re available?”
Good Lord. I stare at him. “Do all football players just assume every woman in the place wants them?”
He lifts his hands. “Yeah.”
Jack and Devon finish their conversation, and Devon sends me a big smile. “Um, you ready to get out of here?”
Jack’s eyes cling to mine, searching before looking away. “I’m sure she is,” he says tightly.
He’s getting rid of me.
“So ready,” I mutter.
Alabama gives me a disappointed look, but I don’t think it’s so much about him finding me attractive but more along the lines of who I am to Jack. “Hey, it was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
I nod.
Devon hooks my hand through his bent arm, and we leave the VIP room. He is oddly quiet, his brow pulled down as we go back to the bar.
I plop down on the barstool and send a glance up at the huge glass window where the VIP room is.
Is he watching us right now?
Or is he already squished between three models?
Who cares?
Devon lets out a long sigh, his gaze following mine. “Trust me; he’s watching now that he knows you’re here. Jack never misses anything.”
I signal for another water, taking a long sip on the straw. Topher and company are still dancing, the song “Greased Lightning,” and I’m betting Topher talked the DJ into it. Topher sees Devon next to me, his grinning face telling me he knows who Devon is. I grimace and hold my hands up. What are the odds? my face says. He blows me a kiss.
“Your bestie?” Devon asks.
I nod.
“Jack’s my best friend, has been since college days; plus we live together. We’re brothers in a sense, I guess. I’d do anything for him.”
“Escorting women out of the VIP?”
He grimaces. “It wasn’t like that. He was protecting you. If reporters knew he was seeing you, trust me, they might not leave you alone.”
“Were reporters in there?”
“No, but people in there might talk. He doesn’t trust easy, especially Aiden.”
I order another water and sigh, feeling let down about Jack—about how different he was tonight.
He settles in next to me, concentration on his face, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “Also, he did not give me details about last night. He just wanted to know who you really were. In fact, I’ve never seen him—”
“I’m no one.” I shrug.
Devon nods. “Tell me—did Jack leave you his cell number?”
“Yes.” I guess he did.
“He never does that. I bet five people have that number.” He waggles his brows.
“Well, I’m not calling him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I won’t.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’ll thump you again.”
He grins and checks his watch.
“You late for somewhere?”
“No. Just waiting.”
“For Jack?”
He gives me a hesitant nod. “Yeah, he wants to talk to you. He told me to get you out of there. He doesn’t like Aiden talking to you. Thin ice there.”