2. Ryan
2
RYAN
Don’t follow her. That’s fucking creepy.
I watched the dark-haired woman from the bar turn and wander down the path to the beach. No way would I follow a woman I didn’t know, not even to explain how my goofball teammates had put me on the spot in front of her earlier.
Instead, I leaned on the bar and put my attention on the scene on the dance floor. Ethan “Twinkle Toes” Rivera had created a flash mob. At least 30 people gleefully followed his moves. He shouted and gestured with his iced tea glass, clearly delighted at the crowd’s efforts.
When the song ended, Dustin and Yuri, two more of my teammates, hurried toward the bar with their partners in tow. They were all flushed and grinning as they surrounded me.
“You should’ve gotten out there, Molls,” Dustin said while they waited on their drinks—actual drinks this time, not the goofy-ass bullshit they’d made me order earlier. They’d pissed themselves laughing coming up with that list. Damn me for not remembering which hockey players had ever worn 69 as their number. To be fair, they weren’t goalies.
I sipped my beer and shook my head. “Why would I be out there? I can laugh at you just fine from here.”
“It’s a hell of a party for sure,” Yuri said after we clinked glasses.
Everyone agreed.
Yuri’s wife, Tanya, looked around. “The house is exquisite. And it seems as if an arena full of people are here! The guest list must be three hundred at least. They invited everyone.”
Dustin’s girlfriend snorted. “No kidding they did. Even a few reporters got in. They’re over there.” Jazzlynne nodded at the table and then frowned. “Hm. I don’t see her now, but did y’all notice they let her in, too?”
“Who?” Yuri asked, echoing the question in my head.
“Mrs. Quentin Paris.”
“Ohh.” The collective murmur only furthered my confusion.
“Audrey and her publicity stunts,” Dustin chuckled.
“Mm, more like keep your enemies closer,” Tanya said with a headshake.
“ Who ?” I asked.
Jazzlynne tossed me a patient smile. “Quinn’s superfan. She goes by Mrs. Quentin Paris on social media and has a huge following.”
“Oh. How, uh, weird that she’s here.”
“She’s press.”
We all turned at Audrey’s voice. Jazzlynne and Tanya shouted and kissed her cheeks in congratulations yet again, as if they hadn’t already done so. Audrey laughed and thanked them while her friend, Stella, stood nearby. Audrey and Stella had both become players’ wives within the week, but their places in the Commodores’ community had been cemented long ago. Well before I’d joined the team. Audrey was the first person I’d met after Coach Delgato.
Audrey nodded toward the press table again. “I wanted her to have the inside story. It’s good for the team’s image. That’s why I put her front row for your wedding, too.” She smiled at Stella.
“You’re a bigger person than I could be,” Jazzlynne said. “I’d sharpen my nails and take out my earrings if someone showed up calling themselves Mrs. Dustin Simmons.”
Audrey shrugged. “It’s not just about Quinn. She promotes the whole team. I figured working with her was easier than making her an enemy. Plus, she’s nice.”
“Like I said, girl. Bigger person.” Jazzlynne smiled and hugged Dustin’s neck.
I absorbed the conversation with almost no interest. Yes, it seemed odd to invite a social media personality to a wedding, but what did I know about such things? Audrey was head of the team’s PR for a reason. If she decided it was right, then why should the rest of us care?
By the time Quinn and Audrey made their exit, I was more than ready for the night to be over. Going solo to a wedding, even a teammate’s wedding, drained me. There was only so much small talk I could endure and only so many beers I could consume until I felt like shit. So I beat the crowd out of the driveway and rode to the inn where several of us were staying for the night. I found a handful of my teammates and their partners in the lobby when I walked in. They greeted me as they headed for the stairs.
“Anyone want to hit the bar for a nightcap?” I asked, not quite ready to be alone with my thoughts.
But the women frowned, prompting the guys to shake their heads no. Even Max, who was my fellow single guy on the team, yawned and said he was done for the night. So, I followed them upstairs and unlocked my room. I sat down on the bed with a sigh and pulled off my glasses.
The room was too quiet, I was too awake, and I had nothing to put my mind on. Preseason was over. The regular season didn’t start for a week. I could’ve reviewed stats or gamed on my laptop, but I wasn’t in the mood. Something about the wedding left me feeling restless. Wanting something different. Routines were my friend, but not that night.
I shucked the suit jacket, dropped my tie on the bed, snatched my glasses, and went to the bar by myself. The old bartender slid a whiskey my way while I climbed on the stool. We chit-chatted about the weather and the ESPN highlights running on the TV behind him for a moment. Then he went back to washing dishes while I stared into my glass.
The inn’s front door opened, sending a chilly breeze straight into the bar. High heels softly tapped the hardwood floor several moments later. From my periphery, I saw a woman with black hair and a black dress slide onto the stool one down from me. She ordered a water and sat motionless while it was poured.
My stomach dropped. What were the odds? What do I say? How do I start a conversation with ? —
“Where’s your blow job?”
A laugh burst out of me. The bartender dropped a spoon with a clatter. Turning my head, I found her smirking with a wicked glint in those blue-gray eyes.
“I swear on this whiskey, those weren’t for me.”
“Yeah, right. They always say that.”
“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”
“Afraid that’s impossible. You’ll forever be the sex drinks guy. Cheers again, sex drinks guy.”
I shook my head. “Cheers.”
Her lips fit around the straw. I looked down at the whiskey in front of me, fully prepared to return to my thoughts. But with another sip, I heard myself say, “Can I buy you a drink? Um, a sex drink or… whatever your pleasure?”
Inwardly, I groaned at my awkwardness. Who do you think you are, trying to sound cool? Leave that to Quinn, Ethan—hell, even Dustin.
But when I glanced over, she wore a little smile. “Thank you, but I’ve had enough for tonight.”
I frowned. “Then why are you in a bar?”