Chapter 7
VAUGHN
FEbrUARY
Looking out at the sun over the Gulf, I hold a scotch in hand.
That’s it. The end of my career.
A AC joint injury and it’s over. One injury too many and I’m out early in the season.
I refuse to leave as a man sitting on the bench, unable to play.
Instead, I’m going to come to an agreement on the buyout that both sides want so we can end my contract early.
I would much rather retire as a man who had a good last game until the injury in the second period than a guy watching from the offside.
It's already over the sports news, the speculations of my next move.
Still, my career is setting like the sun out ahead.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I choose to ignore it. For the past week, I’ve been getting an abundance of texts, but I’m simply not in the mood to answer.
Not the one from my brother. Nor the one from Connor.
I’m allowed to wallow in this moment, right?
This time my cell rings, and I pull it out purely to hit decline and set my phone on silent. But then I see a name that I wasn’t expecting in the slightest.
Isla.
And for some reason, I answer.
She’s the last one I should talk to right now, considering she made it clear that we really were a one-night thing.
I even got the impression that she really didn’t want to speak to me anymore.
Since we originally did agree on one night, then I haven’t put in any effort to contact her since Christmas.
I bring the phone to my ear. “Isla.” My tone is simple.
“Hey… Vaughn…” She seems to be struggling to put together a sentence.
“That’s it? You called to say ‘hey, Vaughn?’” It causes her to half-laugh which kind of annoys me.
I walk inside, closing the double doors behind me, listening to Isla hum a sound.
“I heard the news and watched the replay. You all right?” Huh, she sounds concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Bound to happen. Is that why you’re calling? To be the hundredth person to check up on me?” I sound exhausted, but I don’t want to keep repeating myself.
“Yes and no.”
“What’s the no part?” I set my glass onto the counter and head to my sofa to kick up my feet on the coffee table.
It sounds like she is walking around. “For some reason, I felt the need to check in, like genuinely check in. See how you’ve been. Did you find a new cheese to like? That kind of thing.”
My lips twist in an attempt to smile because it sounds like she sincerely means it.
“I’ve discovered a Dutch cheese that’s sharp and hard.
I would say it’s like my thrusts, but it is actually a very slow cheese that takes 10 to 14 months to ripen and must contain a fat content of 48%. But damn, it’s good.”
She snorts a laugh, perhaps remembering Connor’s wedding weekend where we mentioned cheese during our flirty yet odd topic conversation. “You can go slow, maybe not 10-to-14-months slow, though.”
“You phoned to talk cheese?”
“No, actually, I phoned to ask you to open the door.”
My eyes dart to my front door down at the end of the hall. “Why would I do that?” I shoot up and begin to step down the hall.
“Uhm, the Spinners played your old team, as you know. I guess you didn’t want to watch, which is understandable. I decided to come down to watch Briggs and also shadowed someone I met at that conference who works in marketing. Then I thought, hey, why not check on Vaughn.”
My pace picks up as I head straight for the door.
I think she is insinuating what I think she is.
Opening the door, I’m faced with Isla who has her golden locks down, a bit darker than last time, framing her face.
She’s wearing a sort of long baggy dress that has buttons and stops short of her knees, and I wish this whole getup would show more.
I slowly bring my phone down until my arm hangs at my side.
Isla’s lips lift gently. “Hi,” she softly greets me.
“Hi,” I rasp.
“The front gate wasn’t keen on letting me in, but an old lady who lives a few floors down took pity on me and let me in.”
I don’t move an inch. “Why are you here? Our last encounter you kind of pushed me away slightly.”
She nods in agreement. “I did. But I figured you could use a friend.”
I can’t think of any reason why she would show up right now. It would take too much energy, and I don’t have that right now. “Are we friends? Because I’m really not in the mood to attempt to be anyone’s friend right now.”
“Fair enough. So, am I just going to stand here or are you going to let me in?” She gives me a humorous look.
I hesitate for a second before I step to the side so she can come inside. I watch her saunter as she slowly enters my home and examines the setting while I lazily close the door behind her.
She notices the scotch glass that I forgot on the side table; I’ve been nursing the glass for the last hour. “Are you somewhat sober?”
“Sober enough to wonder how you got my address.” I follow her until she’s by the window looking out at the near-dark sky.
“Hadley had your address from when she sent out wedding invitations last summer.” Isla seems nervous, and God, I hope it’s because we are alone with my bedroom not far away.
“Look, Isla, I have to be honest right now. I’m not in the best of moods. I can’t be a friend, and I sure as hell can’t be anything but a great fuck. So that’s the boundaries for tonight.”
She scoffs a sound and crosses her arms over her chest. I could swear her tits seem firmer or larger, which causes my dick to press against the zipper of my pants.
“That’s clear then. You do seem like you’ve seen better days.”
“It’s fine. This time was always going to come, but it’s a subdued feeling.”
She takes one step in my direction then pauses. “You don’t want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm, sounds like you might see the light at the end of the tunnel after allowing a few days of misery first.” She’s analyzing me, and it’s irritating but spot-on.
Glancing to my open kitchen, I’m tempted to pour a fresh round. “Want a drink?”
“Oh, uhm, maybe water?” Not what I had in mind, but sure, I need her hydrated if she’s planning on staying any longer, because I do need her support right now. In a way that only she can offer.
Into the kitchen I go and straight to the fridge to grab a water bottle, and when I turn, she’s there. We bump into one another when she reaches for the bottle, and the touch of her hand blasts a carnal need to bend her over the counter behind her.
“Thanks.” She takes the bottle from my hand, causing our fingers to skim with a friction of energy crossing. I’m tempted to capture them and pull her to me tightly.
Isla twists the cap then takes a long drink. “I think you’re not in the mood for conversation.” She sounds near deflated.
“That’s obvious? Great.” My tone is mundane, and it causes her to raise her brows, not exactly pleased with my attitude. I don’t care and trap my sight on her lips then slip my gaze down to examine her breasts again which only makes me harder.
“I have to be honest. I came here hoping we could talk, have a few snacks and… never mind. This was a mistake for me to come here.” She begins to turn to leave, and as she walks away, I’m trailing hot on her heels until her hand is on the handle of the front door.
Isla’s barely been here and now she’s escaping, that’s just not fair.
I’m quick to grab her arm, causing her to glance at me sidelong before her eyes draw down to examine my hand on her arm.
“You came here for something. In fact, I’m confident you knew the risk of what would happen when you did.” My tone is serious, I’m not going to play games.
Her breath hitches slightly. “Trust me, all scenarios have crossed my mind.” Why does it feel like she has her own version of tonight that I’m not familiar with? How could she not expect that it was dangerous showing up at my door?
Our gazes connect, and a wistful glaze shades across her eyes. “You’re really not in the best of ways, are you?” She states it more than she asks.
“Again, I’m allowed to have a bittersweet goodbye to my career and sulk a little.” I don’t let go of her arm.
“Vaughn, I’m not sure what to say to make you feel better. I can only bring you complications if I open my mouth.” Her sentence causes me to ponder for a mere second. “Anyway, I need to get out of here. This was a horrible idea. I’ll go downstairs and order a cab.”
Everything inside of me sinks to the ground with disapproval. I have whiplash over what the last few minutes were. I could pin her to the door and make her admit that she wants what I desire in this moment, but her eyes seem to plead for me to give no such attempt.
I do the next best thing.
“I barely drank… let me drive you back to your hotel.” Being a gentleman, that is a turn of events I wasn’t expecting.
She sighs but then nods that it’s okay. I grab my key fob from the side table, and we head out in a silence, the entire elevator ride down with tension sharp between us and our gazes fixed. We’re both probably thinking a dirty thought and simmering in an attraction that isn’t good for me.
Heading out of the elevator, my Ferrari beeps when I unlock it, and we get in the car, where she tells me the hotel, and I type the address into the navigation. But before I start the engine, she speaks again.
“I wish I could help you right now.” Her authenticity is strong, and she’s looking forward, lost in a thought.
“You’re a confusing woman, Isla. The queen of mixed messages. Yet still you manage to keep me on this thin tether which is fucking annoying.” I’m getting aggravated.
Her eyes dart to mine. “A tether is a connection, you know.” Her tone is simple.
“We have a sort of fucked-up one, don’t ya think? Somehow, I have no regrets either.”
Her mouth opens and a sound croaks out of her lips. “I’m not sure… maybe I might be a regret for you soon.”
My eyes squint as I try to figure out what in the world is going on with her. “You’re speaking in tongues. You have me at a loss.”