Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
GARRETT
O ne week later…
“If you take out your damn phone one more time, I swear,” Harris laughed, waving down the bartender at the Prickly Pear for another round.
“What?”
He gave me a side eye, then ordered an extra side of Pom Guac, the specialty of the Mexican fusion place most of the Fury players frequent during the season. Early April, however, it was just us, and Sebastian Knight, my QB, and his fiancee snuggling like teenagers. A pang hit me, and fuck, I missed Maren.
My wife. Even for just one night.
The girl lodged herself into a place inside me I didn’t know existed. Texting her every few days so I didn’t suffocate her was getting harder to do. And I had a whole damn file of pictures she sent me in a locked folder on my phone.
And the girl wasn’t even mine. Never had been. No, fuck that, for one night she had been.
Until she snuck out and left me without saying goodbye.
Thank fuck Harris had still been with her best friend the next morning. Convincing her to give me Maren’s number hadn’t been easy, but when I told her I had something of Maren’s, I hadn’t lied.
I kept her panties just like I said I would. But I had no intention of giving them back. Ever.
Creeper status officially initiated.
“I still can’t believe you got married in Vegas, Coach.” Harris handed me a beer, and took a long pull before he continued. “That shit’s serious.”
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” I shrugged. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you took her maid of honor back to your room.”
Harris shook his head. “I’m not sure what was better. Winning the championship, or the blo-”
“Don’t disrespect my wife’s best friends, Harris.” I tried to keep my tone light, but fuck, all this talk about Vegas was bringing back memories of that night. Not that I didn’t replay them nightly and sometimes in my morning shower. Fuck, I was jerking off more now than when I was a teenager.
“Believe me, I respect her. A lot.” He grinned. “Along with her skills, her body, and fuck, her mind was pretty amazing, too. But, onto bigger and better things. Like a repeat,” he said, clinking his beer against mine. “Ready for the draft?”
I nodded, grinning. I loved Draft Day almost as much as the season opener. And the Fury head office had an entirely different view on how to handle the team since the new owners took over last season. The possibilities were endless.
I sighed, and waved down the bartender for another one, then thought better of it. Harris watched me closely, then grinned. “What?”
“Hot text date, Forbes?”
“Fuck off.” I stood, flipped him off, and headed for the door, phone in hand, typing away.