Chapter Twelve
Rowan
I fecking hate wearing a bleeding suit. Especially to a meal. Who decided that eating food while dressed to the nines was a good idea? If I’m going to enjoy what I’m eating, I should be comfortable, yeah?
Apparently, the owner of CFC does not agree.
When Coach told us that the big wig wanted to have lunch with him at his fancy country club, I was the only one that groaned in despair.
Having lived in the slums and stolen more meals than I can count, the idea of sitting at a fussy table with fussy men sipping their drinks pinky-out is enough to make a bloke sick.
Also, why are there so many forks at the place settings?
But here I am, in the navy blue suit I bought on clearance last year after Coach suggested we each own at least one for press conferences and the like.
I refuse to wear a tie, though. They’ll just have to accept my white button down and brown loafers.
Even though I feel ridiculous in it, it does tend to boost a man’s confidence when the ladies’ heads turn as I walk to the private room reserved for us.
Doug Tenner, owner of Tenner Sports Entertainment and the Charlotte Football Club, is a large fella who reminds me of Harry’s Uncle Dursley.
His cheeks are red and veined, hinting that he consumes large quantities of alcohol.
My da has the same look about him. The tweed suit jacket he’s sporting is straining across his back and shoulders.
Even though sweat beads at his brow, and he keeps fanning himself with the menu, he doesn’t remove it.
All the while, he’s speaking to Coach about last season’s MVPs and ignoring the rest of us.
Glancing around the room, I’m surprised to find a fully stocked bar built into the corner.
Just the thought of how much the bottles on that top shelf cost makes my stomach hurt.
Leaning toward the teammate to my left, I start to ask him about the menu when I hear a low, familiar voice to my right.
“Yes, sir. We carry several top shelf whiskeys. Would you like the menu?”
Whipping my head in that direction, I’m first delighted to see Alicia, but then confused by what exactly I’m seeing.
Dressed in black slacks and a stiff, white button-up, she’s pouring water into Tenner’s glass.
I can tell by the furrow in her brow that she’s less than pleased and trying her best to stay professional.
“Sugar, why don’t you bring a bottle of Macallan out for these boys here,” Tenner demands, staring at her tits the entire time.
Bristling at the arsehole’s condescending tone and wandering eyes, I clear my throat in an attempt to divert his attention, but rather than his, I get Alicia’s.
Her eyes slip to mine and widen when she realizes it’s me.
She blushes, embarrassment written all over her face.
There’s no way she’d be working here unless she absolutely had to.
I hold her gaze and silently mouth, “You okay?”.
She gives me a subtle nod before turning from the table.
I watch her say something to the bartender before sneaking through the door to where the bathrooms are.
I give her about ten seconds before excusing myself with a sudden need to piss.
Nobody is paying attention to me, so I’m not worried about being gone for a while.
Casually strolling toward the jacks, my eyes inspect the space, finding it empty.
A muffled voice comes from the ladies’ room.
I can’t hear much, but it sounds like Alicia is ranting to herself.
Leaning against the opposite wall, I stuff my hands in the pockets of my trousers and cross one foot over the over to wait her out.
I’m considering texting her when the door swings open and Alicia walks out, eyes red-rimmed.
She freezes, staring at me with her jaw clenched.
“Is there anyone else in there?” I nod toward the door she just exited.
“No, why…” she starts then gasps as I close the distance in two quick steps, her hands immediately latching onto my biceps. “Rowan, what are you doing?”
With my hands on her hips, I direct Alicia back into the restroom and lock the door behind us.
We stand there, just staring at each other.
I’m immediately assaulted by memories of us in the jacks at the club over a year ago, and if the blush fanning across her delicate face is any indication, she’s thinking about it too.
For half a moment, I’m sorely tempted to pick up where we left off that night, but I remind myself why I really came back here.
“How long?” I ask, keeping my gaze locked on those sapphire eyes.
“How long, what?” Her breath fans across my face as I realize we’re both still holding onto each other, mere inches separating our bodies.
Sighing, I give her an incredulous look.
Turning her face away and shoulders sagging, she mutters, “A while.”
I hate that she can’t look at me to answer the question, but I get it. It’s difficult to admit when you’re struggling, especially when you’re Alicia Petersen. She doesn’t ask for—or accept—help.
“Why?” I don’t have the right to ask her, but I’m so curious.
Her eyes snap back to mine and narrow.
She’s gearing up for a fight and taking my question as an insult, so I rush forward, squeezing her hips gently.
“No judgment, love. It just doesn’t seem like the kind of place you’d enjoy.
A bunch of demanding old geezers leerin’ at ya like they’ve found their next meal?
” I purposefully run my gaze over her body.
“Not that I blame them—ouch!” Releasing her long enough to grab the hand that just pinched the underside of my arm, I hold it firmly against my chest, surprised that she’s not pulling away.
“Hey, play nice! Look at yerself! Those tight trousers and the way that button-up is plastered over every inch of ya? Ya might as well be walking around naked!”
Her lips quirk to the side, fighting the smile I knew my teasing would coax from her. “You’re such an ass, Rowan.”
My head tips back on a laugh. “Ach. C’mon now, darlin’. You know I’m just slagging you.” When I meet Alicia’s eyes again, she smiles begrudgingly at me. “There’s a good girl. Did Paddy cut your hours or something?”
“No, of course not!” She shakes her head, but doesn’t continue.
My fingers flex against her hips again, pulling her a little bit closer. “If you’re struggling, you can tell me. There’s no shame in it.”
Her cheeks flame, and I can see the tears starting to gather. Ducking her head, her response is barely more than a whisper. “There is.”
“Hey, now.” I tip her chin up with my knuckle, forcing her to look at me.
“Did I ever tell you that I grew up in the slums?” She shakes her head again, so I continue.
“Aye, my da is an addict. A right arsehole, too. My mum took off when my brothers and I were just wee wans. Da refused to do any sort of work, so I learned to beg and steal at a young age. To this day, paying full price for anything makes me a bit sick, to be honest.”
Alicia stares at me a moment before blurting incredulously, “What the hell are you doing here, then?”
Rolling my eyes, I tell her the truth. “Tenner owns CFC and wanted to show off how big his pockets are. Honestly, I tried to get out of coming, but he wanted us all here.”
“Well.” She drags the word out slowly while her hands slide up to my shoulders to brush off imaginary dust before settling on them. “This suit is pretty nice.”
“Yeah? Think so?” I give her a grin. “Got it on clearance. Not sure if it’s my color or not, though.”
“It is,” Alicia says quickly.
I raise a brow at her. “Was that…two compliments, darlin’?”
She laughs, shoving against my shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to escape, but I band my arms around her middle, pulling her flush against me.
Her hands loop around my neck, but she either doesn’t realize it or doesn’t care.
I’m reveling in the feel of her in my arms again.
She fits so perfectly, and while I’ve ached for her these last months, it’s almost like she never left.
The laughter dies when she realizes just how close we are.
Eyes wide, her head tips back slightly, the end of her long ponytail brushing the backs of my hands that are now resting above the curve of her arse.
I’d barely have to dip my face an inch to press my lips to hers.
Shallow breaths pass between us for what feels like a lifetime, but she’s not pulling away…
and she doesn’t appear to be angry at our proximity.
I decide to take my shot and close the distance.
Just as my lips brush hers, there’s a loud knock at the door.
Alicia wrenches herself from my arms, turning her back to me.
Fucking hell.
“Hey, Alicia?” A soft, female voice floats from the other side of the door. “Are you coming back? Your table in the banquet room is starting to get restless.”
“Shit,” Alicia hisses quietly before speaking louder. “Uh, yeah, Hailey. I’m on my way.”
How long have we been in here? It couldn’t have been for more than a few minutes? Impatient fuckers.
“I’ll take care of it,” I assure.
Finally, she looks at me. “How? Are you going to tell them you trapped me in here?”
“‘Course not. Unless you think that will work.” The look she gives lets me know she thinks I’m an eejit.
“I’ll go out first, you go to the bar that’s not in the banquet room and grab a bottle of whatever you don’t carry in that room.
When you come back to the table, I’ll tell them I had a hankering for it and demanded you find it for me. ”
“Rowan,” she starts.
“Go on, lass. I’ll take care of you.”
She gives me one more long look before nodding and turning to leave. Just for fun, I slap her arse right as she opens the door, grinning when she cuts me a look over her shoulder.