Chapter 28
After a dinner out with the guys in Baltimore on Friday, we stroll through the lobby of the team hotel, heading straight for the elevator banks. I avoid the hotel bar at all costs, and I don’t make eye contact with any of the football groupies.
As we turn down the hallway, Jasper and his wife are walking toward us. “Gentlemen.” Jasper flashes us a smile that shows off gleaming white teeth. “Good to see my stars”—his eyes drift to the elevators—“heading upstairs.”
His meaning is clear. He has no patience for the guys picking up the groupies, even though it’s often a part of the game.
“We like to get our beauty sleep,” Jones offers, speaking for the four of us.
“How wise,” Jasper says in his smooth voice. He raises a hand to scratch his jaw, and his three Super Bowl rings nearly blind me.
“I hope you all have a great game Sunday,” Vera chimes in, then she motions to me, signaling she wants a word. I step aside.
“I keep meaning to tell you,” she whispers, “how devastated I am that you have a girlfriend.” Then she smiles. “I’d been hoping to finally convince you to join my client list.”
I smile too, thinking of Violet. “She’s great.”
“And I’m so glad that you-know-who settled down. But, fair warning. I ran into her in the restaurant.”
Tension spreads through my whole body. I haven’t seen Maxine since the auction. I kinda hoped she’d be out of my life forever. Not that she was ever in it. But still.
“Thanks, Ms. Scott. I appreciate the tip,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Vera, darling.”
“Thanks, Vera,” I say.
Then she waves goodbye and rejoins her husband while I jog to catch up with my guys.
And I nearly smack into Maxine as she rounds the corner. She’s dressed to the nines in a red sequined top and black jeans with towering heels.
“Hey, you! I was just getting a nightcap,” Maxine says. “But then, I don’t have to be on the field bright and early for practice.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Is she coming on to me again? “Bright and early,” I say with a forced smile, since tomorrow is Saturday, and it’s a light workout day before the Sunday game.
I hear footsteps behind me and thank God we’re not alone, as it seems Maxine has no idea of the term personal space . Still, I don’t look behind me—I keep my eyes on the prize of the elevator. Maxine waggles her fingers at me. “Are you sure you have to go to bed right away?”
“Positive,” I say, worry sliding down my spine.
“Just one drink?” she continues, stepping closer, getting into my space.
With a gulp, I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“But I’ve given you such great coverage on my show,” she says in a purr that feels like a lie.
I don’t even know how to respond to her tit-for-tat implication except with a muttered thanks .
“I’d hate to stop covering you so enthusiastically…so if anything changes, you know where to find me, Mister Randall. ”
I freeze.
The sound of footsteps recede.
Then Maxine turns and walks off, leaving her intentions floating loud and clear. Mister Randall? I guess she’s not dropping the I’m her husband bit.
I take off, finding the guys stepping into the elevator. Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief and rest my forehead against the panel. “Is it me or is she…?”
But I trail off. I’m not sure what’s going on with her. Or what lines she’s crossing. If any. All I know is I feel uncomfortable as fuck around her.
Harlan pats my back. “Saw what just went down. Sucks, man.”
“Yeah, it kind of does,” I say, and that’s when the wrongness of her hits me in full force—it’s one thing for random women to come on to me. But she’s a media personality who’s borderline threatening me.
But I don’t know exactly what could or should be done about that. Maybe it’s best to put it behind me.
When we reach our floor, I give a quick wave good-night and head to my room. The door clicks shut behind me, and I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and undress. When I’m down to nothing, I grab my phone and contemplate texting Violet.
We’ve only texted a few times since I left, and most have been from her of the go team variety. But I want her to know I’m thinking of her, so I send one.
Cooper: Sleep well in your lucky jersey.
Violet: I will ??
I turn off the light, and I don’t wake up until my phone rattles on my nightstand in the morning like the world is ending. I rub my eyes, stare at the screen, then sit bolt upright when I see who’s calling.
Jasper Scott.
I answer immediately. “Yes, sir?”
“Cooper, can you meet me in my suite before practice?”
“Yes, I can, Mr. Scott.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m showered, dressed, and heading into the great unknown. It’s a little terrifying.
No, a lot.