Chapter 29 – Jordie
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Drunk and verbose
Jordie
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
“Hey,” I say, rushing up to the table in the downtown Chicago steakhouse, clutching my small purse beneath my arm. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Coach yelled at us for thirty minutes after the game.”
Miles rises and kisses my cheek. “No problem, beautiful. When you called and said you were running late, I went ahead and came down here to see if the restaurant would move our reservation back a bit. So it all worked out.”
He pulls out my chair, and I sit, placing the crimson napkin in my lap. “I appreciate it. Plus, I wanted to run by the training room to check on Sabrina.”
Miles sits across from me, a concerned look on his face. “I saw her go down. What are the docs saying?”
“High ankle sprain. They’re hoping she’ll be back in a few weeks.”
“Good. I hate to see anyone get hurt.” His eyes sweep over me. “You look absolutely fantastic, by the way. What is this outfit called? A romper? Or is it a jumpsuit? I can never remember.”
I giggle. “According to Carrie, a jumpsuit is full length, and a romper has shorts. So this one is a jumpsuit.”
“Whatever the fuck it is, it looks gorgeous on you,” he says, looking me over appreciatively once more.
“She’s been helping me update my wardrobe a bit. You know I’m more casual, but I need to start getting a few more dressy things. Luckily, this one is really comfortable,” I say, tugging at the stretchy fabric over my ribs.
“I approve.” He pours us both a glass of wine. “You played an incredible game today, but y’all had me worried there at the end.”
“Yeah, we were limited in the second half after Sabrina’s injury.” I scrunch my nose. “We’ve got to draft some more running backs next year. Oklahoma City’s offensive line is brutal, and I’m nervous about playing them in a couple weeks.”
We look over the menu and the suited waiter comes by to take our order. Then the conversation turns back to football. Miles’s team has been struggling so far this season, so we commiserate over that.
When our server drops off our perfectly cooked steaks, we dig in. “More wine?” Miles asks, lifting the bottle of red from the table.
“Sure. We’re traveling tomorrow so we won’t have practice.”
He fills my glass, and I take a long sip. The flavor is rich and warm on my tongue, pairing nicely with the meal.
“So what are your plans for the week?” Miles asks before slicing into his steak.
My shoulders scrunch. “I’m cat-sitting, and I’m weirdly excited about it. I’ve been wanting a cat, but it’s hard with my schedule. I had a kitty when I was a teenager, but she died while I was in college. I miss her furry little butt.”
He chews and nods. “It’s almost impossible with as much travel as we do unless you have a sitter or service. I’d never want to neglect an animal. Who are you sitting for?”
“Phoenix Hale,” I reply, feeling my cheeks warm at the mere mention of his name.
Miles’s eyebrows lift. “The cosmetics guy?”
I pay particularly close attention to cutting my asparagus, keeping my head down to hide my blush. “Uh-huh.”
Miles doesn’t speak until I return my gaze to his. “Why did your face get all red just now?”
“Must be…” I hastily look around for a culprit before spotting a trio of candles on the center of the table, “the candles.” I point at them with my fork for emphasis, and that’s when I realize they’re flameless candles.
Smooth, Jordie. Real smooth.
“Something going on between you two?” Miles asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Absolutely not,” I say quickly, and it’s technically the truth. There’s nothing currently going on with Phoenix and me.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand, his gaze compelling mine to lock with his. “You can talk to me, Jordie. About anything.”
My lips twist to the side for a second, and then I tell him the truth. “We spent a night together, but it was only a one-time thing.”
When Miles leans closer, the fake candlelight illuminates the widening of his green eyes. “Did you…” At my nod, he sits back and blows out a long breath. “Wow. Okay.”
I swirl a piece of asparagus through the hollandaise sauce, but I don’t eat it, instead inspecting the scowl that’s building on Miles’s face by the second. “I feel like you’re judging me.”
His forehead smooths, and he shakes his head. “Never. I guess I’m feeling…” I eat the asparagus as Miles massages the back of his neck. “Jealous.”
“You had your chance, Soren,” I tease, kicking him lightly beneath the table.
He chuckles, the sound self-deprecating. “I’ve never regretted a decision more.” His face turns serious. “I miss you, Jordie.”
“I miss you too,” I say before clarifying, “as a friend.” Because as fond as my memories with Miles are, the chemistry I thought we had pales in comparison to what I felt with Phoenix. What I still feel with Phoenix.
Miles nods in resignation, and we resume eating. “He didn’t take advantage of you, did he? Because I swear to Christ, Jordie, if he did, I will fly to Houston and beat the fire out of him.”
“He didn’t. I promise.” I lift my glass to my lips and take another drink of wine. “It was completely consensual and very, very good.”
One of his eyebrows makes a slow ascent toward his hairline. “Very, very?”
I shrug. “I was going to say very, very, very, but I thought that might be overkill.”
“That feels like a challenge.” He smirks. “Any chance I can take you back to your hotel and see if I can get a fourth very from you?”
A giggle bursts from my lips. “I don’t think so, but thanks for the offer.”
He shrugs and hits me with a dazzling grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“The girls are in the bar,” I say, checking my phone as Miles pulls his sporty little car beneath the hotel’s portico. “I’ll stop in and say hi to them, just to be sociable.”
“Is Sabrina with them? Because I’d like to run in and give her a hug. Let her know I’m thinking about her.” This is one of the things that drew me to Miles. He was always sweet to my friends.
“She’s there with Carrie, Heather, Zena, Jax, and Liz.”
Miles hops out and comes around to open my door before tossing the keys to the valet. “Keep it close. I won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Soren,” the young man says.
Miles places his hand on the small of my back, but before we can enter the hotel door, we’re interrupted by a squirrely looking dude with a cameraman in tow. Great. Paparazzi.
“Jordie, Miles. So good to see you two together again. Are you rekindling your romance?”
“No comment,” Miles says, guiding me to keep up with his increased strides.
“Yeah, but you had dinner at Flank, and now you’re going into a hotel together,” the man taunts. “Does that mean you’re going to—”
Miles whirls around, fire simmering in his voice. “I don’t think you want to finish that sentence, you little fu—”
“Miles! Ignore him. It’s not worth it,” I snap, tugging his hand until he reluctantly follows me into the hotel lobby. But I can practically feel the camera lens burning into my back. How did they even know we had dinner together?
Fucking vultures.
Miles stayed for one drink before leaving, and then my teammates and I headed up to the fifteenth floor, where we checked in with our team’s security agent. After making sure Sabrina was comfortable, I entered my room across the hall and immediately kicked off my heels.
Ten minutes later, I’m fastening my hair into a ponytail as I climb onto the king-sized bed. Hooking my phone to the charger, I slide beneath the covers and flick off the lamp, exhaustion making my body feel like I weigh a ton.
Before my head has even sunk into the cushy pillow, my phone rings, and I push up onto my elbow, reading the name on the screen.
Phoenix Hale.
Worried something might have changed with the cat-sitting gig, I swipe to answer with a “Hey. What’s up?”
A low, slightly garbled voice comes over the line. “Did you fuck him?”
What the…
Pulling the phone from my ear, I double-check the name displayed. Yep, it’s definitely him. When I bring it back to my face, I stupidly ask, “Phoenix?”
“Yes,” he replies with uncharacteristic curtness. “I’ll ask you one more time, Jordie. Did. You. Fuck. Him?” The last four words sound like they’ve been uttered through gritted teeth.
“Did I fuck who?”
“Soren,” he seethed.
My mouth gapes open, and my eyelids blink so rapidly I’m surprised I haven’t taken flight. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t sleep with Miles. Why are you acting like this?”
“I don’t want you to fuck him, McNamara,” he snaps. I’m about to go off on his unreasonably overstepping ass when his voice noticeably softens. “Because I don’t want you to be with anyone but me.”
My emotions are on some kind of wild rollercoaster ride, and with a heart that’s about to beat out of my chest, I croak out one word.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I don’t want anyone else to smell your apples. Fuck if I know, Jordie. I just can’t bear the thought of anyone else touching you and kissing you the way I want to.”
Yeah, my rollercoaster car has officially jumped the tracks, and I’m soaring. He just said everything I’ve been wanting to hear. Except for…
“What was that about smelling my apples?”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “You always smell like apples.”
My lips curve up. “It’s my green apple body spray.”
Phoenix sighs, but it’s not an exasperated noise.
He sounds dreamy. “I like it. It makes me want to eat all the apple dishes.” Then he turns into a fruit-loving version of Bubba from Forrest Gump.
“Apple crisp, apple strudel, apple pie, apple dumplings, apple cake, apple turnovers.” He continues rattling off various apple desserts, ending with, “And cimmannon apple cheesecake.” He completely butchers the word cinnamon, and I have to stifle a giggle.
“Have you been drinking, Phoenix?”
“No, I’ve been drinking whiskey,” he slurs, and I press my fingertips over my lips to once again hold in my laughter. “Do you think they make apple whiskey?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure.”
There’s a moment of quiet, and I check the phone to make sure the call wasn’t disconnected. Then he says my name in a voice just above a whisper.
“Jordie?”
“I’m still here,” I answer just as quietly.
“Have you been with anyone else? Since… you know, our night together?”
“No,” tell him honestly before scrunching my eyes shut and asking the one question I’m not sure I want the answer to. “Have you?”
“No, baby,” he breathes, and I release all the air from my lungs in relief. “I haven’t even looked at another woman since you. Sometimes I sleep with the robe.”
I open my eyes and blink at the corner of the room, attempting to decipher what that means. “What robe?”
But all I hear is a light snore on the other end of the line.
I listen to his sleep sounds for a long while, remembering the morning after we were together when I’d awakened before the sun was up.
Phoenix was draped half over me, his muscular thigh wedged between mine and his arm holding my back to his chest. He’d made soft snoring noises then as well, his breaths puffing against my hair.
I don’t remember ever feeling more content and peaceful than when I was in his arms in the darkness.
Finally, I say, “Phoenix?”
He makes a snuffling noise before he speaks. “Hmm, sorry, I think I dozed off.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Why don’t you get some sleep since you have a flight in the morning?”
It sounds like he’s scrubbing a hand over his face before he answers. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“And don’t worry about Honey. I’ll be there tomorrow to keep her company.”
“You have the key I gave you?”
“Got it. I hope you have fun with your mom and Reece.”
He makes a sleepy little humming noise. “I wish you were going with us.”
God, the things he’s saying tonight are blowing my mind, and I’m not sure how to process all this.
After hanging up, I stare at the phone, my brain going through our conversation. He doesn’t want me to be with anyone else. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching me.
But what does all that mean? Could he really have feelings for me? Or is he just drunk and horny?
Flopping back onto my pillow with a frustrated grunt, I decide the latter is the most probable.
No sense getting my hopes up.