Chapter 40
Sam
Four Hours Earlier
He looks tired. Thick slashes of blue have taken up residence beneath his hazel eyes, visible even in the reflection of the elevator doors. His khakis are rumpled, a day of plane travel and coaching unmistakable in the creases.
I blink the thoughts away. I’m here to get a divorce.
The doors open and I exit, going left and left again to find my room. Colin follows, and when we both stop at our rooms, of course he’s next to me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter. Any luck the two of us had all those months ago has left me high and dry. I can’t wait to get exactly no sleep thanks to the knowledge that Colin will be mere feet from me. Shirtless and in his ridiculous boxers, one arm thrown above his head.
“Sam.” His voice is pained.
I’m halfway in the room, but I stop.
Nothing more comes. It’s obvious he wants to say more, but I can’t begin to know what that is. I know what I hope it is, but hope isn’t helping here. With a sad shake of my head, I leave him in the hallway.
The view from up here is disconcerting. It’s the same Strip I stared out at nearly six months ago, the bluish gray of the mountains serving as an immovable reminder that even when the glitz of Vegas fades, life goes on. Matthew becomes Colin. Rules get broken. Love blooms and tears you apart.
Only a few wispy clouds dot the sky, as if even nature itself isn’t interested in fighting the inevitable.
My hand goes to my neck, feeling for the necklace that no longer rests there.
A pang of sadness unfurls in my belly. With a sigh, I turn away from the windows and lay down on the bed, setting a thirty-minute timer.
I’ll take a quick nap, and when I wake, mopey Sam has to be banished.
I meet Neesha on the conference room floor, the both of us gushing over each other.
I’m in a yellow knee-length chiffon dress more suited to winter than March in Vegas, but I’m not going outside, so I figured why not.
Neesha is in a teal-blue suit with a black sequined tank and black and white Nikes with teal accents.
“Do you ever not represent the Granite?” I tease as we walk to the banquet room.
“It’s rare,” she answers. “Unless I’m at home. Then I’m in pinks and greens for my sorority.”
“That’s a college thing, right?”
She nods. “I’m an Alpha Kappa Alpha.” She says it like it’s supposed to mean something to me, but when I don’t react, she laughs. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll teach you yet.”
I smile gratefully. Neesha is a wonderful work friend.
I’ve enjoyed getting to know her, and she’s incredibly warm and welcoming.
She’s the perfect person to run the tiny HR department.
In fact, the only reason she’s on this trip is because of me; she said she wasn’t about to let me be the only female, especially when this was a new type of travel arrangement for the league.
We round the corner. Colin is the only one there, clad in dark blue dress pants and a crisp white button-down.
Even from here, I can see how the fabric strains against his shoulders, the way the rolled-up sleeves show off his forearms. His braided leather belt has been replaced, too, with a sleek brown belt to match the dress shoes he’s in.
My steps falter for the barest moment, my brain skidding offline at the deliciousness of him. Get it together. I recover, walking tall and reminding myself that tomorrow, I’ll be divorcing the man who’s currently looking at me like he’s starving.
“Good to see you both,” he says when we reach him.
Neesha smiles back. “Don’t you clean up nice, Coach. I was beginning to think you didn’t own anything other than khakis and the occasional track pant.”
His grin is knowing, but tight. “Close.”
I throw him a bone. “Fewer clothes just mean fewer decisions.”
Neesha hums good-naturedly. “If you say so.”
We head inside, Colin following, and join the short queue for the food. Dinner is quick, with a few of the Granite players joining Neesha and me at our table when they come in late.
Leaving takes too long, with table after table stopping the two of us to chat. It’s obvious what they’re doing, and the both of us are over it quickly.
“Can we be done?” I mutter after the fifth table.
“Need some help, sis?”
I turn a grateful look to my brother. “Ollie. Yes.”
Neesha smiles as well. “My HR hat was about to come on.”
Ollie waves us ahead and we walk out.
“I could use a night cap,” Neesha says as soon as we’re down the hallway.
Our footsteps are unhurried, the plush carpet absorbing my soft laugh. “Famous last words,” I mumble.
Ollie’s sharp eyes and ears miss nothing. “Need me to stick around?”
“Absolutely not,” I insist, waving him back to the ballroom. “I’m sure you’d like to get a taste of Sin City while you have the chance. Get out of here. I don’t need babysitting.”
We both know the words have double meaning, but after a moment of carefully studying my face, Ollie leans down and places a kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best.”
“I know.”
Neesha side-eyes me as he jogs down the hallway. “What was that about?”
I press the elevator button. “Something between us siblings, Neesha. Nothing to worry about.” As we step in, I wave at all the options. “Where to?”
She hits a floor and my chest constricts. I know where we’re going. “You don’t get enough sports as it is?” I tease.
“It’s March Madness,” she says, as if that’s enough of an explanation for why I’m being marched to the very bar I first met Colin.
Blue eyes meeting mine in the bar’s mirror. A dip of his chin in a silent promise that he’ll leave me alone. And he did. Until he laughed at the asshole bothering me.
My gaze travels over the bar as we enter, memories finally coming back in absolute clarity.
“Do you have rules like me?”
“Something like that.”
Then later, “I’ve got an idea. Heads, we have another drink. Tails, we call it a night.”
“There’s a table over there,” Neesha says, leading the way.
I follow, ordering a soda water with lime from the server when she appears.
“We have a good selection of mocktails here if you’d like to see them,” she offers, pointing at a not-insignificant chunk of the menu.
“I appreciate that,” I tell her, and I mean it. “The soda with lime is perfect.”
Neesha orders something I don’t recognize, and we settle into our seats a few minutes later when we have our drinks.
“People watching is something else,” Neesha observes, watching two women in full-length glittery gowns move through the bar. “Is this your first time in Las Vegas?”
“No,” I admit honestly. “I came here before I started with the Granite.”
“What’d you do?”
Got married after fifteen coin flips. “Did some hiking nearby, caught a few shows, the usual tourist stuff.”
“I’ve been up here a couple of times. Sorority meet-ups with my sisters from college, that sort of thing.”
“You’re still close with people you went to college with?” The concept is completely foreign. Except for Kari, I’ve moved on from any old friendships. Not on purpose, exactly, but more or less because we all just…moved on.
Neesha smiles. “Yeah. It’s a sisterhood for life.”
We’re into our second round when one of the guys from the Lights appears at the table. “I was hoping I’d run into you ladies,” he drawls, pulling out the empty seat without waiting for an invitation.
He’s every bad rugger cliché: hair cut short on the sides but longer in the back, a hideous mustache that he definitely thinks looks good but absolutely does not, a thick neck leading into a barrel chest that’s barely contained by the polo shirt he wears, and tattoos covering his arms. He’s not a bad-looking guy, but the attitude he’s bringing to the party is a huge turnoff.
“We didn’t ask you to sit.” Neesha’s voice is firm.
“Didn’t have to,” he says, turning to wave down our server.
I catch her eye first and shake my head. A dip of her chin in acknowledgment, because of course she understands, and she gives the server a one-moment gesture before swiveling back to our table.
“You should leave,” I say, my voice cold.
“And miss out on talking to the prettiest girl in the room? Definitely not.”
I take it back. He’s not good-looking at all.
“What’s your name?” Neesha asks.
“Dylan,” he answers, angling toward her and turning on the charm. “You’re Neesha. And you, beautiful, are Sam. What’s that short for? Samantha?”
“It’s short for leave, we didn’t invite you to stay,” I answer. It’s remarkable that my voice is steady, because my pulse is racing. This man is everything wrong with his species, and I’m a mix of irritated, scared, and flat-out angry.
His expression falls.
I bolt upright, needing to dispel the crackling energy running rampant through me.
“I need to use the restroom. I trust you’ll be gone when I return.
” With an apologetic look at Neesha, I practically sprint to the restrooms, my only thought to get away from Dylan.
It’s why I don’t realize that the asshole has followed me.
A hand closes around my arm, stopping my forward momentum and causing me to stumble to a stop. Fear spikes in my chest and it’s hard to breathe, but it doesn’t override the absolute fury at being touched without permission.
“Get your hands off me,” I growl up at Dylan.
His smile is a little dangerous now. “You don’t mean that.”
It seems that Vegas must be the town where men really lean into the worst versions of themselves, because this is the second one to tell me what they think I mean. “I said I wasn’t interested.” I yank my arm, but his hand tightens.
The sheer size of him registers as he looms closer, his bulk blocking the light above as his inebriated eyes darken with danger. My heart leaps into my throat as he leers down at me. “You’re just playing hard to get.”
A flash of movement behind him draws my attention. It’s Colin, his face a mask of absolute rage.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife,” he snarls.
Dylan doesn’t get a chance to react before Colin’s fist is flying through the air, connecting with a sickening crunch. Blood flies from Dylan’s nose as he releases me with a surprised yell and turns to fully face Colin.
“Holy shit,” I stammer, nearly tripping over my own feet as I press myself against the wall.
“The fuck?” Dylan sputters, his hand coming up to test his nose. When it comes away bloody, he glares at Colin. “You’ll pay for that.”
Adrenaline coats my blood as Colin’s hands hang loose at his sides, his entire body tense and ready to respond to Dylan’s slightest movement. Which is good, because Dylan surges toward him.
Colin steps to the side, deftly avoiding Dylan’s less than steady punch while landing one of his own against Dylan’s ribs.
Dylan turns, howling with rage and readying to lunge again, but two massive security guards appear. He halts at their appearance, and judging by the looks the two men give all of us, they know exactly what’s going on.
“Time to go,” they say.
“It’s not my fault!” Dylan protests, pointing a finger at me. “She –”
“Didn’t do a fucking thing and you should be arrested for assaulting me, you fucking prick!” The words fly out of my mouth, driven half by rage and half by relief.
One of the guards nods, and they turn to Dylan with a let’s go movement. He doesn’t bother fighting them about it, choosing instead to spew a final “Fuck you, bitch” at me as he walks away.
Colin growls as I glare at the asshole’s back. When they round the corner he turns to me, his eyes wide with concern. All the rage is gone. “Are you okay?” His tone is gentle as his hands slide up and down my arms, inspecting me.
It’s not until he grips my hands in his, their steady warmth seeping in and grounding me, that I realize how badly I’m shaking.
“C’mere.” His voice is low and comforting as he curls me into his chest, banding his thick arms around me and holding me close.
My ear presses against his heart. It thumps wildly as I inhale a choppy breath.
“Your wife?”
Even cocooned against Colin’s body, there’s no mistaking that voice.
Frank.