Chapter 19 Lola #2
“I’m just here for this game. Then Randie and I will fly back to Maine,” I say and take another sip of beer. I don’t miss how his eyes move to watch my mouth.
Redov stands up. “Are we all done? Time for dessert?”
“What’s for dessert?” Micheals asks.
“Tequila shots!” Redov yells, and everyone laughs.
“And I’m out.” Theo stands up. Pulling cash out of his wallet, he tosses it onto the table. “You guys have a great night.”
I watch as he literally walks out of the restaurant. He never even looks back.
I stand. Callan glares at me. “Lo.”
“What? I’m not allowed to pee?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
I ignore him and walk toward the bathroom, which thankfully is in the same direction as the front door.
So when I peel off and march right out the door instead of left to the restrooms, no one will notice.
Hopefully. Theo is on the sidewalk, staring at his phone.
“Uber or asking your hook-up to come back for round two?”
“What?”
“I mean, I know you like two rounds.” I shrug as he looks over his shoulder at me. “So it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re calling her back to the hotel.”
“Who?” He’s a really good actor. He looks genuinely confused.
He glances around, I’m assuming to make sure none of his teammates have followed us, and then he steps right into my space.
So close his coat, which is hanging open on his wide frame, brushes against me.
“I left because I’m not going to watch you get drunk and even more flirty with Redov. ”
“I wasn’t flirty.”
“He was flirting, and you didn’t seem to mind.”
“But you do?” I ask, tilting my head like the idea is absurd, because it is. “You who let your booty call trot right by me back at the hotel? You get to tell me who I fuck next?”
“My…” His mouth falls open, and his eyes widen. “Harlow is not my booty call. She’s my sister.”
Her image flashes through my head, and suddenly it’s obvious. Same glossy dark hair. Same eyes, the color of coffee with just a splash of cream. Same strong jaw and… “Why is your sister here?”
“She’s skating at nationals, and they’re being held here this weekend,” Theo replies. “She came to tell me. I had no idea she was back into skating and trying to qualify for the Olympics.”
“She… is?” I blink. I know little to nothing about his family.
I mean, I know who his dad is and that he’s not related to Grady, but he's related to Grady’s cousins.
But for all I know, he has 12 sisters who skate, are acrobats, or something.
“I missed Thanksgiving, so how would I know you have a sister?”
“Right. Well, I do. Just the one. And she used to be an incredible figure skater,” Theo explains.
“She quit years ago but has picked up ice dancing recently, and well, she’s working on qualifying for the Olympics.
I guess she hasn’t told anyone in the family until now.
Probably because everyone was busy worrying about me. ”
His voice gets thicker, like it’s choked with guilt as he finishes that thought. “Well, it’s cool she’s back at something she loves, right?”
“Sure. Yeah. It’s great. Harlow deserves the best,” Theo says and then clears his throat before changing he subject. “You thought I was hooking up with her?”
“I mean, I didn’t get a good look at her, so I didn’t see a resemblance, and when a hot chick wanders out of your hotel room, why would I think anything else?” I ask, feeling stupid.
“Because I deleted the hook-up app,” he informs me and leans down, so his head is closer to my ear, “and unlike you, I wasn’t ready to move on.”
“Unlike me?” What the hell is he talking about?
I glance around him and into the restaurant through the front window.
The team is still at their table, probably doing shots.
But they don’t have anything harder than a video review meeting tomorrow, so I know they’ll be moving the party to one of the bars soon. “Can we talk about this elsewhere?”
“I called an Uber. I’m heading back to the hotel.”
“Okay. Then I’ll hop a ride. I have my own room at the hotel.” I say.
As if on cue, a dark SUV pulls up to the curb. Theo glances at his phone and confirms the license plate number, and then stalks over and opens the back door. He says hello to the driver and then turns to me. “Get in.”
I slide in, and he joins me. We don’t speak for the first half of the ride, and then, glancing at the driver to make sure he’s not paying attention, I whisper, “Why do you think I’ve moved on? To who?”
“Landon said you couldn’t watch Randie one night because you had a date.”
I stare at him. “When? With who?”
He turns from the window and glares at me. But it’s not just an angry glare. There’s more in his dark eyes. Something that looks a little bit like hurt. Or longing. “After our last home game. And I don’t know with who. He said you were acting weird, and you only do that because of a guy.”
“That wasn’t a date as in something you go with a person,” I say. “It was Date with a Brush. A paintbrush. It’s a night I helped organize at an art gallery where people come, and we serve wine, and they paint. The only guy who has made me weird lately is you.”
“What?” He cocks his head like I just recited a monologue in Russian, and his brain isn’t computing. “Like… a…”
“Like a giant girls’ night with wine and canvas.
I saw it online and suggested it to this art collective I volunteer at, which hosts one to help make money because they’re hurting for money,” I explain.
“And I don’t want them to close because I hate my career, I quit the bar, and the free art classes, and my volunteer work there is keeping me from going insane.
That and babysitting Randie, which is why I blew off work to come here and will probably get dropped by the doula association I joined.
Which is fine because I think I should quit. ”
He’s staring at me with wide brown eyes and a jaw set slightly agape. Great. Now my situationship thinks I’m crazy. I take a deep breath and try to smile apologetically. “Sorry. I know bed buddies don’t sign up for this level of TMI.”
Luckily, the driver is pulling up to our hotel.
There’s a gaggle of cabs dropping off other people in front of him, so he slows down, almost coming to a full stop.
I reach for the handle and give Theo one last look.
He’s still staring at me like I just shot a confetti cannon in his face.
I kind of did. An emotional one. I can’t wait to disappear into my hotel room and die of embarrassment.
“So, yeah. No actual date. Landon has baby daddy brain. Fathers get it too, I guess. He just doesn’t listen to exactly what I say unless it has to do with Randie.
” I use my free hand to slap his thigh in an overt, unhinged act of friendship.
“So, thanks. It’s been great! No hard feelings.
Oh, and your sister is hot. Congrats on that. ”
I open the door, even though the driver isn’t fully stopped.
I make it out without killing myself, but maybe that isn’t a blessing.
The driver calls out something, but I just give him a thumbs up and storm straight for the main entrance.
I don’t realize I’ve been followed until I step into the elevator and Theo steps in behind me.
We’re not the only ones. An older couple who step in, too, so we don’t speak.
I stare at the illuminated numbers as they flick up with every floor, and he stares at me.
I can feel it. We hit four, and I get off, but he does too.
I kick into power walk mode and hear him snicker.
Great, laughter sprinkled on top of my humiliation is exactly what I need.
I dig out my key card and immediately drop it, cursing because now I have to stop to pick it up.
“If I were a serial killer, you’d be dead now,” he says, his voice calm, which somehow adds to the embarrassment. Like he’s the rational parent and I’m the toddler who just had a meltdown.
“If you were a serial killer, I’d stand still and welcome death,” I mutter, and as soon as I’m upright, he wraps an arm around my waist, stealing my breath.
He’s so close, and his scent is so familiar and welcoming, and it feels so good to be held by him.
This sucks. He plucks the keycard from my hand and presses the softest, sweetest kiss to my cheek, his lips still brushing my skin when he speaks.
“We’re gonna go into your room, and you’re going to tell me all about this career crisis. ”
“Bed buddies don’t do that.”
“This is Theo from the snowstorm. The one you were becoming friends with,” he informs me and steps away, moving to my door. He swipes the card, turns the handle, and pushes the door open. “Let’s go.”
I don’t know if this will make things worse or better, but I follow his orders, so I’m about to find out.