8. I Think You Know
8
Foster
Practice was brutal. Coach gave us the day off yesterday to recover from the game––which was why I was home when Hadley finally rolled out of bed, hungover, for breakfast––so he pretty much rolled two days’ worth of work into one.
Once I’ve showered off the sweat, I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into the locker room. Moving to my locker, I swing it open and grab the stick of deodorant I keep inside. Swiping some on, I recap it and toss the stick back inside before pulling out my street clothes.
“Hey, man. Good practice. Your hands were perfect.”
I look over to see Riggs approaching. He leans a shoulder against the locker next to mine, and I give him a firm nod.
“Your arm was on fire today,” I say, returning the compliment.
He accepts it with a nod, then cocks his head. “So, how are things going at the B&B?”
I study him for a moment, wondering if I’m imagining the double meaning behind his words. Is he asking out of concern for my comfort? Or Hadley’s?
“Good,” I say, watching his expression for any clue of his true intentions. “Hadley runs a tight ship while making the place feel like home.”
“That’s great,” he says, then moves past me to his own locker on the other side.
I step into my underwear, letting the towel drop once I’m sufficiently covered. Most of the guys have no problem walking around buck naked in here, but I’m a bit more modest. It’s enough that we shower together. I don’t need to let my cock swing around for all to see in the locker room, too.
Thoughts of my cock lead me straight to Hadley and her little drunken confession. I glance over at Riggs, who’s busy texting. Tessa, no doubt.
Should I tell him what she said? I trust him to be discreet, and maybe he can give me some insight on how to handle things.
I pause with my jeans in my hands and close my eyes. What am I thinking? There is no “handling” things with Hadley. Whether or not she’s experienced is none of my business. And it makes no difference, anyway.
As attractive as I find her, I can’t go there. She trusts me as a friend and a guest in her home.
Not to mention that particular secret isn’t mine to tell.
I resume dressing, and my gaze darts back over to Riggs. If Hadley is a virgin, Tessa would know it, right? And she might’ve shared that information with Riggs confidentially, maybe while asking him to probe me for answers about my intentions.
I am basically living under the roof of her inexperienced best friend. Hell, for all I know, Tessa could check up on every male guest that stays at the B&B. She’s a good friend, after all, and the love between the two of them is obvious.
As if he read my mind, Riggs walks back over to me the second he’s dressed. Crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrows as he starts to speak.
“Listen McKenna, Hadley is a sweet, sensitive woman. If you have any intentions of starting something up with her, you should know she isn’t one for casual hookups.”
My head rears back an inch, then tilts to the side as I study him. “Are you warning me off?”
“No. Of course, not,” he says, uncrossing his arms to hold his palms up in supplication. “If something real sparks between the two of you, I’m all for it. Just…tread lightly. Don’t start something with her unless you’re in it for the long haul, okay?”
My face remains impassive as I nod in agreement. Riggs blows out a relieved breath, slaps me on the shoulder, and heads out with a comment about seeing me later. I watch him go, his thumbs flying across the screen of his phone as he walks, and I sit down to pull on my socks and shoes.
If I wasn’t sure before, I am now. Tessa put him up to that. He looked extremely uncomfortable delivering the message, but he did it, and now he can go home and report back to her.
Whether Riggs knows about Hadley’s lack of experience or not, Tessa definitely knows.
And she wants to make sure I don’t do anything to hurt her friend.
Regardless, that little display confirmed one other thing for me––Hadley was telling the truth with her little slip of the tongue. She’s a virgin.
I shake my head as I climb back to my feet. If she wasn’t off-limits before, she is now. I’ve never had sex with a virgin before, and I’m definitely not going to start now with a grown woman who’s been saving herself for…what?
True love?
Or worse, marriage?
An involuntary shiver rolls through me as I gather my things together. I’m never getting married. I decided that a long time ago, and I won’t change my mind. Ever.
I breathe deep and release it slowly as I head for the exit, waving to some of my teammates as I go. My mood has darkened considerably as memories from my childhood flood my mind, threatening to drown me.
All that darkness follows me out to my car, and as I climb in behind the wheel, I know I can’t take it home with me. I mean…to the B&B. I can’t take it to the B&B with me. To Hadley, who’d probably have a heart attack if I stomped in with this black cloud over me.
The clock on my dash reads five-fifteen. Late enough for a drink, then.
Pulling out of the practice facility’s parking lot, I turn onto the road that leads back to Sublime. Blue Skye’s is on the way, and I’ll just pop in for a beer to give my mood some time to lighten before I come face-to-face with Hadley again.
By the time I get to the bar, I’m still moody, but the thought of beer, or any alcohol, really, turns my stomach. While I don’t usually drink much other than the occasional beer in social settings, having one tonight, as memories of a darker part of my life swirl through my brain, seems downright stupid. And more than a little masochistic.
Alcohol was the catalyst that ripped any possible happy childhood away from me in the first place.
I park and head inside, anyway. I won’t drink, but this place is as good as any to get my head on straight before I head back to the B&B. The place is mostly empty, save for a few people who appear to be regulars bellied-up to the bar.
“Well, hello there, handsome.”
I give the bartender a humorless smile as she places a cocktail napkin in front of me. She bows her back to rest her elbows on the bar, no doubt giving me a perfect view of her cleavage as the loose, cut-up neck of her Blue Skye’s t-shirt gapes away from her chest.
Ignoring the blatant invitation to take a peek, I keep my eyes on her face. “Can I get a soda water with lime, please?”
Her face tenses slightly, and her own smile turns bland as she nods and turns to grab a glass.
“Austin, I’ve got this one,” a familiar voice says, and I look over to see Skye approaching.
The well-endowed Austin looks back at me, and seeing the obvious disinterest in my gaze, shrugs and hands the glass over to her boss. Skye watches me as she squirts soda from a nozzle into the glass, adds a few cubes of ice, then squeezes a lime into the liquid before hooking another wedge onto the rim. Placing the drink on the napkin in front of me, she cocks her head.
“What crawled up your ass and died?”
My head jerks back involuntarily, my jaw falling open for a brief moment before I snap it shut. She’s nothing if not blunt.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I reply, picking up the glass and taking a sip.
“You came to a bar on a Tuesday night looking like you want to murder someone, then ordered a non-alcoholic drink. You’re obviously not looking for something to take the edge off, so that means one of two things. Either you came here to see me…” My frown deepens, and she smirks. “Okay, it must be option number two, then. You’re stalling. For some reason, you don’t want to go home.”
“No, that’s not––”
She holds up a palm to cut off the denial. “Bartenders are basically psychologists without the fancy degree and the student loans that come with it. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I grunt, my eyes wandering all over the bar to avoid her intense stare.
When did I become such a shitty liar?
Skye grabs a rag from beneath the bar and begins idly rubbing it over the top. The motion eases some of the tension in my shoulders, making me think she’s letting the subject drop, but when I look back at her, I get snagged by those penetrating green eyes. Skye grins, tossing the rag aside.
“Trick of the trade. Make them think you’re not interested, and they’ll spill their guts,” she quips, then her smirk drops. She rounds the bar and slides onto the stool next to me. Twisting so she’s facing me, she says, “Talk to me, Foster. Maybe I can help. You can trust that whatever you say will stay between us. Bartender-patron confidentiality, and all that.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I hedge, feeling my grip on my resistance slip with each second that passes.
She rolls those mossy eyes, then pins me with another probing stare. “Let me guess. Riggs said something about Hadley and how she needs to be treated with kid gloves because she’s so sweet and sensitive.”
“How did you…?”
She’s fucking spot on, and I’m once again convinced she’s got some voodoo magic inside her. Not that that’s the real reason I’m here, but it did happen.
Skye rolls her eyes again and blows a breath between her lips, muttering, “Tessa is so predictable.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, even though I’d already come to the conclusion that Tessa put him up to it.
I’m more interested in finding out if Skye would betray Hadley’s confidence by telling me secrets I shouldn’t know, but do, thanks to several margaritas. She locks me with that gaze for several beats, her eyes narrowing as she tries to figure out what I may or may not know, myself.
“Tessa is very protective of Hadley.”
“You don’t think she should be?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink.
“I think Hadley’s a grown ass woman. She’s stronger than she seems, and she can make her own decisions.”
“And Tessa tries to make them for her?” I ask.
“Not overtly, no,” she says, flipping her long, dark hair over one shoulder. “But she does things behind the scenes, like sending her fiancé to warn her hot new tenant to walk on eggshells around her. Hadley doesn’t need that.”
“What does she need?”
My mouth forms the question, and I instantly regret both the words and the tone in which I asked it. My voice deepened with interest, making the question sound extremely suggestive. And judging by Skye’s wide smile, that’s exactly the way she took it.
“I think you know, Foster McKenna. I think you know.”
With that, she slaps me on the shoulder, slides off the barstool, and strides back around the bar. Giving me a little wave, she calls out to the bartender, Austin, that my soda water is on the house and disappears through a swinging door at the end of the bar.
I drain my glass before setting it back on the smooth bar top. Mission accomplished. I’m no longer thinking about my past, only about the sweet, shy blonde waiting for me at home. I dig out my wallet and toss a twenty on the bar despite Skye’s offer, and Austin smiles as she picks it up and tucks it into the pocket of her apron.
With a little salute, I walk out, picking up the pace as I head for my car. Hadley’s probably finishing up dinner, and it would be rude to be late, especially without calling to let her know.
As I pull out of the parking lot, a smile curves my lips.