The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

23. Margarita Kiss

23

MARGARITA KISS

Zane

I float on a raft in Maddox’s pool as he strides over to me in those black trunks, a margarita in each hand. He steps into the water, walks down the steps like a magazine model, and hands me a mouth-watering drink.

“You’re the fucking best,” I murmur as I take a sip then ask him for a margarita kiss. He bends toward me…

And I’m smiling like a fool as the last delicious dream of the night fades away but leaves its warm, wonderful imprint on my mind as I stretch in bed.

Soon, I’ll open my eyes, but right now I’m still indulging in my favorite scent. Maddox . I can smell the sexy man by my side, but this time it’s not his ocean breeze shampoo. It’s something with sage and lemon. The hotel shampoo, and I can smell it on me too.

The one we used last night.

The one we’ll use again tonight. And then, before this secret two-day affair ends, I’m going to broach a tough subject. I’m going to ask him if we can find a way to be together. No clue how we’d pull it off. I haven’t worked out the details, but I want to be with this man I’m falling so hard for. I hope he might feel the same. He faces the bigger risk. I’ve always known that. Athletes are more apt to get away with skirting the rules. Plus, I’ve got this fantastic deal he struck in my hands now. But that also means it’s my turn to support him. I’m ready to do that. I want to know what I can do to help us along. What he needs from me to make a real romance happen.

My stomach rumbles and I draw a deep, satisfied breath. I blink open my eyes, sighing happily again.

“Hey, you,” I say, but when I turn to reach for my guy, the bed’s empty.

I laugh. That’s so Maddox. I bet he got up at six, worked out, wrote a contract, and decided to pick up breakfast at some trendy new food truck serving acai bowls and papayas.

I push up on my elbows. “Hey handsome,” I call out, in case he’s in the bathroom. Shaving maybe? Oh, that’d be hot. Walking in and seeing him sliding a razor across his chiseled jaw?

Yes, please.

But I’m greeted by silence.

Hmm. He’s probably on his way back from the food truck, but just to be sure, I swing my legs out of bed and head to the bathroom. He’s not there. I peer into the room, scanning for evidence. All his clothes are gone. I mean, that makes sense. He wouldn’t leave naked to grab some grub. I take care of business quickly in the little boys’ room, then snag my phone and turn off the do not disturb.

My phone pings with a text from my brother thanking me again. From Tanner saying we’ll talk soon. From Gunnar asking if I want to work out and grab lunch.

But nothing from the man who stole my heart.

Well, no reason I shouldn’t message him. Hey handsome, where’d you go? I’m getting in the shower…If you happen to return while I’m in there, feel free to join. Or just watch me. If you know what I mean.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m fresh as a daisy in my workout shorts and a T-shirt. But the man is still AWOL.

I check the time. It’s nine-forty. He said his first meeting was at ten. I’m not hitting the panic button yet, but I’m fiddling with the worry one. I grab my phone again, and right when I’m about to call him, his name flashes across my screen. I breathe a sigh of relief, answering with, “You’re too late for the shower show, but you can make it up to me if you get your sexy ass here in the next five minutes.”

He says nothing for a couple seconds, and that chills me. “Zane,” he says at last, and his voice is too heavy, too dark. “I can’t do this. I can’t see you tonight. I can’t see you tomorrow night.”

The floor buckles. I stick out my arm, reach for the wall. “What? Why?”

“I lost a potential client this morning. I was courting a football player. A talented guy who’s in demand and looking for new representation. He called a few times last night and again this morning,” Maddox says, his voice barren, like every word hurts.

But fuck, every word slays me too.

“And you missed the calls?” I choke out as all my morning joy drains away.

“All of them,” he says, as a siren crackles from his side of the call. He must be walking somewhere in the city. “I put my phone on silent, and I’d promised this client I’d be available. I told him he could call anytime. I even said to him on the golf course that I was an early riser too.”

He sounds like he’s beating himself up. Of course he is. That’s his style. “But you’re allowed to have a life and get some sleep,” I insist. Maybe he just needs reassurance, and then he’ll realize he’s being ridiculous. He’ll say you’re right, Zane, and I’ll see you tonight and the next night and then we’ll find a way .

“Yes, but I’m not supposed to be MIA for twelve hours unless I’ve given my clients a heads-up,” he says, his tone full of remorse and self-loathing. “Clients expect to be able to get a hold of me in a reasonable amount of time. I even alert everyone when I’m traveling so they know I might not be reachable.”

“Right. I remember getting your group texts when you were flying to and from London,” I say gently, trying to get him to ease up. If he lightens up, he might realize we can give this thing between us a shot. “But c’mon. You’re being hard on yourself.”

“No. I’m not. Accessibility is literally part of the job. I represent multimillion-dollar athletes and I want to take care of them. It’s what I’ve told clients to expect. I have to be available in case of emergencies. And I slept in. I never do that.”

“It was just once, Mad,” I point out. Maybe he’ll take back his I can’t be with you pronouncement if I can just make my case.

“And once was enough. He’s going elsewhere because of this . He told me from the start he wanted my ear. He laid out his expectations, and I failed to deliver. He was in the right when he said I should have answered at least one of his phone calls.”

Damn. I’d like to give this football player a piece of my mind and tell him to grow a pair. “This guy sounds like an ass,” I mutter. “I wouldn’t have been bothered if I couldn’t reach you right away.”

“But I never missed your calls,” he says, gentle but firm. “And the point is—I made this mistake. And I’m paying the price. I was tasked with courting him, and now I’ll have to go in and tell Vance the client decided to go elsewhere,” he says, sounding like he just drank sour milk.

“Will you tell him why?” I ask, concerned for him.

“I won’t tell him I was with you,” he snaps, totally reading me wrong.

“I know. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you,” I huff. “I just meant will you tell him you had your phone off? How will you handle it with Vance?”

“I’ll have to say I fell asleep early and missed the call,” he says, biting out the words. “I’ll be lying once again too. I can’t keep justifying this thing with you. There’s no justification for sleeping with a client, let alone?—”

But he cuts himself off.

“Let alone what, Maddox?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice. But I’m dying to know what he didn’t let himself say.

Just fucking tell me you’re crazy for me too. We can figure this out together somehow.

“Nothing,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “If you don’t want me to represent you, I’ll understand.”

We fucked and he’s dropping me?

Oh, hell no. “You said you wouldn’t do that,” I throw back, not bothering to mask my annoyance now. If I can’t win him back for me, I’m not going to lose him when it comes to work. No way. This Bespoke deal matters too much. He doesn’t get to dump me in two different ways.

“That’s not what I meant,” Maddox shouts, and he’s the desperate one now, unraveling before my ears, raising his voice. He never raises his voice. But all of a sudden, he seems to recalibrate, because he’s cool and calm again, as he was on the night of the rooftop party as he says, “Zane, I want to work with you. I care about you. I will gladly, happily, professionally represent you, but I also understand if you don’t want to work with me.”

I don’t move. I can’t believe he thinks I’d do that.

Fuck him.

I’m not that kind of a scorned lover. Fuck him for thinking I am.

But I can take a page from my own playbook. The one I used the night I met him. I return to the ice age, cool as tundra as I say, “That’s big of you to say that. Really it is,” I say, drily. “But you know what I’d like more?”

“What would you like?” he asks, worry stitched in his voice, like he thinks I might drop him.

Good. Let him fucking squirm.

I take my time, wrestling back some of the control that’s slipped through my fingers. “I’d like another deal. See, Maddox, everything can change on a dime when you least expect it. I’ve got my family to look out for. And myself. So maybe you can get working on that water bottle endorsement. Or a podcast network. Or something. But don’t worry if you don’t hear from me tonight, it’s because I’m hitting the clubs with Gunnar, and I will definitely have my phone off.”

Maddox is dead silent for several seconds. New York flashes by in that time—honking horns, chattering pedestrians, the sound of a jackhammer from a construction site somewhere.

Then, with a defeated sigh, he says, “Have fun, Zane. I’ll see you at Ava’s Bistro tomorrow night with Priyam. I’ll text you the details.”

That damn dinner.

Guess I will need a poker-face strategy after all.