Chapter 27 #2
“The worst of it is”—Kathy sniffles into her blue drink—“he never actually told me he loves me. I would tell him I loved him, and he’d say, ‘Of course you do.’ Guess you’re right, Winnie. I am a dumb blonde.”
“Dumb brunette.” I pat my sister. “You dye your hair, remember?”
Kathy hiccups.
“We’re going to get Knox,” Carolina promises Kathy. “Just you wait.”
“I can’t believe he’s here. It’s like I can’t just get away from my bad decisions.” Kathy dabs her eyes.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I drain my glass.
Kathy gives me an odd look.
But the hockey game is over, and the suite door is bursting open with several Seattle players.
“Hide the lobster,” Gran hisses at us, shoving the Tupperware into her bag.
The WAGs all cheer and rush to the winners. Still in their jerseys, they hug their wives and girlfriends.
“I don’t know how they can pick them out of the pack,” Carolina jokes. “You think they ever accidentally take the wrong WAG home?”
Kathy self-consciously touches her roots as the media fawns over the players and their trophy women.
“Photo—a photo with the team owner.” One of the Orcas media people gestures.
“Mr. Svensson.” Knox approaches Fitz with an outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir, for this opportunity.” Knox has his good-ol’-Midwestern-boy act on full force. “I’m real excited to be on this amazing team. There’s some great history here.”
“Fitz created this team four years ago,” I hiss.
The high school child giggles on his arm while his mom looks on with tears in her eyes.
“Barf,” Carolina whispers.
“Ugh, don’t say that. I think I ate too many crab cakes.” I swallow.
“Looks like we made a good decision trading you,” the GM says, shaking Knox’s hand again.
“Well, if you want to upgrade me to captain, just say the word, sir.”
He laughs. They laugh.
Fitz even laughs.
“He even laughs like he has money,” Carolina marvels.
“Where do you think they learn to do that?” Kathy hiccups. Her lips are blue from the frosty.
“It’s cheaper to move hockey players around than my football players,” Fitz says with a smile. “We might bring some of your friends here too.”
“Oh, you own the football team too?” Knox asks in shock.
“And the basketball and the soccer and the baseball teams,” the GM adds.
“Wow.” Knox looks taken aback.
“Probably the first time in his life someone’s effortlessly big-dicked him,” Kathy snickers.
“Yeah, Fitz didn’t even have to try. You can’t admit it’s not a little bit hot.” Carolina pokes me.
It is a little bit hot.
Fitz just stands there with that bland, friendly expression, gray eyes still a little cold.
Maybe I should just ghost the stalker and give it a go with Fitz.
It’s the alcohol talking.
Knox’s mother has weaseled her way in to butter up Fitz. She’s braying loudly, telling him funny stories about her son, subtly—not so subtly—telling Fitz what a great team captain Knox would make.
“Yeah, now I am going to barf.” I push off the bar.
“I might try to switch to wine.” Kathy frowns into her empty glass.
“I’m going to get some more crab dip.” I try not to look drunk as I push through the crowd of pretty people to the untouched food table.
“You’re not actually with him, are you? Girl like you? You can’t snag a billionaire like Fitz. Maybe your sister can, but you?” Knox shoves that verbal knife between my ribs. I drop the crab cake then pick up the tongs again, determined not to let him see he got to me.
“Billionaires like him—they don’t marry girls like you,” Knox whispers, the devil in my ear. “He might just be chubby-chasing this week. Once he actually has sex with you a few times, he’s going to be done.”
“Why do you care?” I snap.
Knox is smug that I took the bait. “I’m just a concerned friend. We’ve known each other since high school, Winnie. I was your first,” he taunts me.
“So we’re just going to be friends now?”
“You’re graciously hosting my mom and my girlfriend. Sounds friendly to me.” He scratches his balls.
“You’re sick.”
“Besides, you secretly want it.” Out of view of everyone, his hands come up to grab the curve of my ass. “You want to be friends with benefits.”
I bite back a curse. “Stop it.”
“Knoxie-poo!” His mom calls him away.
I take my food and my wine out to the bottom row of the tiered stadium seats to eat alone.
“Did you know I own this stadium?” Fitz takes the seat next to me, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sits down.
“Is that how you pick up women here?” I ask him.
The stadium has quickly emptied out. A few stragglers are left taking selfies. The party’s still going in the skybox behind us, though.
“Man, if I’d known I was going to watch you get your dick sucked tonight, I’d have brought some wet wipes for you.”
“I’d make a really off-color joke about you getting your pussy eaten if there weren’t a bunch of media around.”
The thrill of the heat of his words on my neck makes me shiver.
“But I don’t think you want me to make you come in front of your parents.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.
Maybe he could be exciting. Maybe not like my stalker, but still—he’s not exactly nice.
I turn to look up at him.
“Or I can bring you some to-go containers. Might be better than stuffing crab cakes in your purse.” He trails his fingers on the back of my neck.
I jump at the sensation.
There’s almost something familiar about how those fingers tighten on the nape of my neck. It’s brief, then I’m forgetting the sensation in the haze of wine and expensive food and the smell of his cologne.
I turn, practically in his arms.
Fitz looks down at me, gray eyes warm. “Did this meet your standards for our second date?” he murmurs.
“What?” I squawk. “It’s not a date.”
“This skybox isn’t cheap, Winnie.”
“We didn’t even have a first date.”
“The elaborate dinner at your lovely home? Though that was a little forward, having me meet the parents on the first date. Though I do appreciate the one hundred percent commitment to us as a long-term couple.”
“No, no, it’s not a date—you’re doing me a favor as a friend.”
“So you friendzoned me,” he says with mock indignation.
“No, you friendzoned me.”
“Prove it. Touch my junk.”
“I’m not touching your junk.” I smack his chest. My hand lingers.
He takes it in his larger one.
His other arm still cupping the back of my neck, he leans in to kiss me.
His mouth is soft but unyielding.
Drunkenly, I try to kiss back.
His tongue tangles with mine, the hand on my neck pulling my head back so he can kiss me deeper until I feel like I’m drowning in him.
I’m panting when he breaks the kiss.
This should be what I want. What every girl wants.
The billionaire to love her.
So why can I not stop thinking of the degenerate who fucked me in the alley?