Chapter 3
MADDOX
Ihave no idea who this woman is, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love.
Where’d she come from? One minute I’m doing what the song tells me to do, and that’s asking the crowd where my Sally’s at tonight, and next thing you know, I see her dancing through the swarm of people, eyes trained on me, not giving a fuck as she works her way through a crowd that never stood a chance against her.
Fuck, yeah, gorgeous. Get up here. Come and dance with me.
When I heard this song earlier today, I knew I had to put it on the celebration request sheet. I mean, it’s a catchy-as-fuck song guaranteed to draw the right kind of attention from the right kind of company. But never in my wildest dreams did I expect her to come up on stage.
I’m grinning like a fool as I keep singing, and thank God I know all the words or I’d be a blabbering idiot right now.
I might know all the lyrics, but I have a feeling she doesn’t.
In fact, I can tell she doesn’t— nor has she seen the viral videos with this song—because at this point everyone always does something to their head signaling a headache.
But this woman? Nope. She’s dancing around, living in the moment. Doing her own fucking thing.
It’s hot as hell.
Of course it is, because her energy is matching her looks in every way.
Her dark reddish-brown hair is shining under the lights of the stage.
Her face is a little flushed, making her porcelain skin rosy.
Her body is perfectly proportioned, with delicious curves in all the right places—and each of those is being hugged by a sparkly little black dress that I’m pretty sure was made to put men in a coma.
Me. I’m men.
But what does me in is her smile. The way I can clearly tell she doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything right now. She’s literally glowing as she dances around on stage. That’s a turn-on if I’ve ever seen one.
“Sing with me!” I yell to the crowd as the last chorus of the song plays.
I never ask for crowd participation unless the song explicitly calls for it.
But this time I’ll take all the help I can get, because if I’m not singing, that means I can pull this beauty in and dance with her.
It’s nothing explicit—the last thing I need is for the Fury’s PR department having to deal with photos coming out tomorrow of me inappropriately dancing with strangers in Vegas—but I do take her hand and pull her in.
I settle my leg between hers, letting me pull her in close as I channel my inner Johnny Castle as we both feel the music.
My hand is resting on the small of her back, and in this moment, our eyes are locked.
There’s no one else in this bar except us.
I can tell the song is coming to an end, so I take her hand and spin her out, before pulling her back in as the final note of the song plays.
“I don’t know where you came from, but please don’t leave yet.”
Our chests are touching, and our eyes are locked. I had no idea what tonight was going to entail. If I know anything from Vegas trips in the past, is that you can never fully prepare for the night.
And I know for a fucking fact I wasn’t prepared for her.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
Her voice is breathy as we each come down from the adrenaline rush.
But her eyes are wide as they blink rapidly; I’m guessing she’s realizing what happened up here.
I smile, and resist the sudden urge to kiss her, as I step away, remembering that I’m still on stage with hundreds of people in the crowd.
Luckily, the DJ comes up on stage and saves the day.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands together for the Fury’s starting safety, Maddox Gallagher!”
I wave to the crowd and bring the mic back up.
“Thank you all! But don’t just give it up for me. Let’s give a round of applause to…”
Shit. How do I not know my future wife’s name?
“What’s your name?” I ask as I lean in, her soft, floral perfume hitting my senses.
“Gabi.”
“Let’s give it up for Gabi!” I hold up her hand like she won a prize fight as every patron of the bar goes wild, cheering for both of us as we take our bows.
I still have hold of her hand as we make our way down the small stairs, my other hand on the small of her back as I lead her down to the floor.
“Thanks for not kicking me off stage,” she says with a laugh. “That was fun.”
“Kick you off? Did you think I was going to?”
She shrugs but also at the same time gives me the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen in my life. The fact that it’s highlighted by a red lip makes it just as sexy as it is sweet. “I was a strange woman inviting myself on stage with a man I’ve never met. You totally had the right to.”
I shake my head and take a step closer. “I believe in a world with multiple universes and timelines. And in none of those worlds, or in any of those timelines, would I have ever kicked you off that stage.”
Her jaw drops slightly at my statement—which is the most truthful thing I’ve maybe ever said—as… something passes between us. Does she feel it? Or is it just me taking in every exciting and thrilling emotion that this night has had to offer?
“Are you here with anyone?” I ask, and I hope she can’t hear the nervousness in my voice.
She nods, our eyes still locked in the hold that something has over us. “Yes. It’s a girls’ weekend. They dared me to go on stage with you.”
I don’t know how many friends she’s here with, but I need to buy them drinks for the rest of the night. “What would they say if I invited you and them to come party with me and my teammates?”
That seems to surprise her. “Really? All three of us? What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” I say as I try to put her at ease, not even thinking, but probably should have, that I’m still a stranger asking her to come hang out with other strangers.
“I’d never want to break up a girls’ trip.
I have a sister. I know those are sacred.
But I really, really, want to keep talking to you, Gabi.
And if I’m lucky, maybe later there can be an encore performance? ”
I didn’t mean the double entendre. I really did mean singing with her again. But the way her eyes darken at my words makes me think that maybe, if I’m lucky enough, there can be an additional victory in my hotel room.
“I’m okay with it,” she says before looking over to a table where two women are watching with rapt attention. “But they have to sign off on it.”
I smile and put my hand on the small of her back. “Then lead the way.”
Gabi gives me one more glance, making sure that I’m serious before walking toward the two women who are looking us over closer than the TSA. I laugh as their eyes linger on where my hand is placed. They’re owning their gawking. I can appreciate that.
“Ladies, I’ve been told this is the best table in the house. Mind if I join you?”
“Mind? We absolutely don’t mind!” one of her friends squeals, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m Hannah. This is Shelby. And well, you know Gabi.”
Not as well as I hope to. “Nice to meet all of you. I’m Maddox Gallagher.”
“Oh, we know,” Shelby says, giving me a knowing eye. “Nice interception you had tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Did you three watch the game?”
“Kind of hard to miss it,” Shelby says. “But, the more important question is, what brings you over here, Maddox Gallagher? And why aren't you on stage with your teammates?”
By the look of Shelby’s smile, and the mischievous look in her eye, I can already tell this woman is being the ultimate wing woman.
“For starters, they don’t need me for this song.” As if on cue, all of them join in for an epic part of the bridge for this iconic boyband song. “Second, I was hoping that I could invite the three of you to come over and celebrate with us.”
I don’t expect an answer right away; in fact, what’s happening I knew was going to.
They’re having a silent council meeting, all of them having some weird conversation with their eyes about what they’re supposed to say.
I’ve seen this before. My sister also had two best friends, and I swear half of their communication was telepathic.
I can only hope as I watch this that whatever talk they’re having is favorable for the outcome that keeps Gabi in my orbit a little bit longer.
“I have a few questions first,” Gabi says, though I catch a glimpse of both Hannah and Shelby, who look like—unless I royally fuck up this quiz—the answer is going to be yes.
“Shoot. I’m an open book.”
“For starters, are we going to be the only women there? Because I’ve listened to that podcast and it usually doesn’t bode well for the females.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. There are plenty of wives and girlfriends with us. Some are drinking with us, some are sober to make sure we act right.”
“Good to know. Are there going to be more stage performances?”
“I hope so,” I say. “Never in my life have I come to sing karaoke and only gone on stage once. I just hope you’re going to come up there with me.”
Gabi’s trying to fight her smile, but Hannah and Shelby? They’re clearly Team Maddox. Love this for me.
“Will you let me pick the songs?”
“You picking the songs in exchange for you and your friends hanging out with me for the night? Gabi, I’d sing ‘Barbie Girl’ on repeat if that meant I could spend tonight celebrating with you.”
“Well then, that settles it!” Shelby yells as she picks up her purse and stands from the table. “Let’s combine these celebrations!”
Hannah lets out a scream of excitement, following Shelby when the words she uses hit me. “Celebrate? What are you celebrating?”
Hannah and Shelby are headed toward the obvious VIP area where the Fury players are gathered when Gabi turns to me, taking a deep breath before she says the words I wasn’t ready for. “My divorce.”
“Oh.” The sound is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Divorce? Sure, I wondered if she had a boyfriend, and I saw she wasn’t wearing a ring… but divorce?
“Is that a problem?”
Her body suddenly goes stiff, and her eyes turn worried. Me? I’m just confused.
“Yeah,” though I realize again how that sounds as I quickly shake my head. “I mean no.”
Now I’ve confused her. “Then what do you mean?”
“I mean I’m baffled that someone was lucky enough to marry you and let you get away.”
Our eyes are locked as I watch my words hit her.
I know the second she realizes what I said, because they double in size.
But they’re true. I’ve known this woman for a total of twenty minutes, and unless her grand plan tonight is to take me to a hotel and harvest an organ, I don’t think I’d ever divorce her if I was lucky enough to have my ring on her finger.
“I… oh… um…” I’ve officially left her speechless.
She’s shuffling her feet back and forth, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I made her a little nervous, which is a shift from the confident woman that was just on stage with me.
Then again, if that was a dare, I have a feeling this is Gabi.
And seeing both sides of her, I now want to know everything about her.
“How could you possibly know that?”
I give her a slight shrug and take a risk by reaching for her hand. I relax when she doesn’t shove it away. “Call it a special talent.”
She lets out a slight laugh, her eyes looking up at me again, but this time in a little wonder. Like she really can’t believe the words I’m saying, or that I’m holding her hand. Her eyes are bouncing around as if she’s trying to assess my bullshit level.
“So you can sing. You apparently can read people after knowing them for thirty seconds,” Gabi lists as I watch in real time the spark come back in her green eyes. “I watched enough of the game tonight to know you’re pretty good at football. Are there any other talents I should know about?”
The smirk that hits my face lets her know that there are so many things I want to say that are not limited to, but including, make her come with only my tongue and/or through nipple play; make her so wet she’d need to change her panties from a few dirty words; and, of course, fucking her until she’s speaking in tongues and not able to walk the next day.
But I don’t. Because I’m a fucking gentleman.
“Oh Gabi… there are so many for you to discover,” I say, figuring that’s the safe way for me to flirt without also coming across like a fucking douchebag. “But there will be plenty of time to learn about those later.”
“Oh, will there?”
“Yes, there will,” I say, putting my hand on the small of her back as I lead her toward our VIP area. “If this is truly a celebration, there’s something drastically missing.”
“What’s that?”
“Unlimited champagne.”