CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hardy
“ W hitney?”
“What?” she snaps over her shoulder as I continue to follow her from behind. Hell, the view isn’t half bad watching her hips sway and imagining her arse high in the air as I take her from behind, but that’s all I’ve seen for the past two days. Her back . “I’m busy.”
“Apparently.” I jog up beside her.
What happened to the shy smile and flushed cheeks?
I was hoping that I could steal a kiss from her here. Somewhere. Anywhere. Hell if it hasn’t been on my mind every waking fucking minute, but she seems to be everywhere I’m not.
This isn’t the same woman who left the other night from the stadium car park.
Is she freaking out again? Is it worth even fighting for it again?
Yes. She’s worth it. And that’s why I’m jogging after her like a puppy dog with a smirk on my face and dirty thoughts in my head.
“You’re still here.”
“I am.” I flash my smile brighter. “Reporting for duty that you seem to be pissed off I’m reporting for.”
“Did one of the kids need something?” she asks without even a glance my way.
“No.”
“Then why are you bugging me?”
“ I’m the one who needs something .”
“Oh. Sorry.” She grimaces but doesn’t stop or look my way. “I only had time for the kids. It’s a busy day.”
“A busy day that’s virtually over so that means you can talk.” The darkening sky says as much, but she keeps walking toward her office.
“The day never seems to be over,” she says.
“Especially when you’re determined to blow me off every chance you get.” I step in front of her and welcome the irritated expression on her face when she all but collides with me. “Why?”
She shrugs and takes a step back. I struggle with the knowledge that there are still a few kids straggling about. No doubt Martin’s still here too. None of them want to see me haul Whitney against me and kiss her until neither of us can breathe. “I’m not blowing you off. Just not feeling the greatest and busy with all of the attention angled this way with you here. Super busy.”
“So you’ve said. Three times.” She steps to go around me, and I grab her shoulders holding her in place. “Look at me.”
Eyes on me .
The way her lashes fluttered up and how her eyelids were heavy with lust. The honesty in her eyes that I know for a fucking fact I didn’t conjure up.
Well, at least I thought I didn’t until now.
“Fine. Sure. I’m looking at you.” She raises her eyebrows. Definitely pissed at me. “ What ?”
“You want to tell me what in the hell is going on here? Why you’re so angry? This whole ignoring talking to me or walking away when I’m here for you—”
“When you’re here for me?” she screeches. “Because last I checked, we were here for you . To clean up your image. To make your club owner happy. To have some wholesome PR. To use me to cement that image.”
“Use you?”
“Yes. So let’s not pretend you’re here for fucking me.”
Whoa. “Whit? Communicate.”
“I am communicating,” she snaps.
“How about you talk to me instead of stomping around and acting like a child?”
By the expression storming across her face, I’m guessing that might have been the wrong thing to say. “A child? And here I was thinking I was the only mature one here.”
“Are you going to fill me in why you’re so angry? Last I checked, you left the car park and everything was more than fine, babe.”
“Don’t, babe , me.”
“Okay.” I nod. “So no explanation. Perfect.”
“Go away, Hardy.”
“That’s your go-to line when you want to avoid me. So no, I won’t go away. Not until you tell me why you’re ignoring me.”
“The other night was a mistake.” She shrugs. “There. I said it.”
“Wow. Okay.” I’ve been thinking about it fucking nonstop, and she drops that bomb. Then again, should I have expected that this was coming given the things she’s said to me in the past? Probably. Time to talk her off the ledge. “Why?”
“You’re not my type.”
She was too quick with that response. Planned and practiced. She’s lying . “I’m everybody’s type.”
“Like I said, it was a mistake.”
She repeats things when she’s lying. She just repeated that.
She starts to walk again, and I jog to catch up. I step in front of her again to force her to stop. “Why was it a mistake though?” I glance around to make sure we’re out of earshot of everyone. Almost everyone is gone and the few who are left are on the other side of the field hanging out. “Because you orgasmed or because you want me to make you feel that way again and you’re not sure how to ask for it?”
There’s a stutter in her movement, an opening and closing of her mouth, and a forced swallow. But the minute the shock from my words gives way to anger, I can sense it in every cell of her body. “How about because we had sex and then when I didn’t go to your place, when I explained why and you so casually played it off, you went out with someone else instead?”
She could have swung her fist and cold-cocked me, and I would’ve been more surprised.
“What?” I laugh the word out. “I have no bloody clue what you’re talking about.”
“Convenient.”
“Or the truth.” I shrug. “If I’m going to be accused of something, you can at least let me know what I did.”
“The picture is plastered on social media. It’s not like you even tried to hide it.”
“Picture?” I bark out a laugh. “What are you—”
“You know what? Forget I said anything.” She snorts, her eyes wild and cheeks flushed, before throwing her hands up. “I’m the one who said no complications, and I meant it.”
“Meant it or mean it?” I say, catching the nuance.
But it’s the hurt that flashes through her eyes that gives me the answer, but I don’t know how to fix something I don’t understand.
I don’t know if I want to fix it at all.
“Should have stuck to my guns before you sweet-talked me into thinking differently. Is that what you do to every woman who says no? Is that—”
“Whitney. What in the hell are you talking about?” Picture? Another woman ? My head spins. My arse went home and sat on the couch after she left. A grueling game, two hours of practice, and some incredible sex afterward would put any man at his house with a beer in his hand. “I assure you—”
“Save it, Hardy. Like I said. I don’t care. Not one bit. But—”
“Coach?” a voice calls from our right. Relief, being saved from this conversation, is a visual transformation on her face. It’s also a major frustration on mine.
Go away, Joey. We have some business to take care of.
I’m a prick for thinking it, but I still think it.
“Joey? Hi, bud.” Her smile is genuine and her voice softer as she moves toward him and squats down. “What can I do for you?”
His big brown eyes shift from her to me and then back again. “My parents haven’t come to get me. I’m not supposed to walk home unless I tell someone. So ... I’m telling you.”
“No bike today?” she asks.
He shakes his head and bites his bottom lip. “No. The tire ... it’s flat.”
“That stinks, but that’s very responsible of you to tell me. The good news is that I’m heading by your house. Why don’t I take you so you don’t have to walk?”
“You know where I live?” His eyes widen.
“Not exactly, but you can show me.”
“I’ll take you guys,” I say without thinking. The last thing she needs is to be driving around this shady-as-shit neighborhood. And the last thing Joey needs to be doing is walking it.
She does it every day, Hardy. Check that savior complex of yours at the door. She sure as shit doesn’t need or want it.
“No. Really.” Her head shakes as quickly as her words tumble out. “I can take him—”
“You want to take me home?” Joey looks at me with eyes the size of saucers.
“No need,” Whitney says, clearly wanting an out from our conversation.
“Please,” Joey says to me.
I look at Whitney and grin. Not so fast, babe. You’re not avoiding me again. Nor the discussion about whatever shit photo she’s talking about. And shit photos are a fact of life for me. They’re never right and rarely accurate in time and place.
But I haven’t been to a club with a woman since ... since the punch that led me here to her.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
And thanks to Joey, I might just get the chance to prove my relative innocence. “Of course, I’ll bring you home.”
“Whitney too?” he asks, his smile cautious.
“Whitney too,” I answer for her.
He lets out a whoop that masks Whitney’s groan.
Bloody perfect.