Chapter Seventeen
Max
Sutton Hart has officially pulled my head out of the game.
Nearly two weeks have passed since the golf tourney and our near-kiss, and I can barely focus on anything but her.
It’s safe to say the obsession I’ve had with this woman has reached dangerous levels.
I’m useless at Apex and have barely even stepped foot into The Rabbit Hole, though I know myself well enough to know that’s probably exactly where I should go to clear my head.
It’s just… not the same now that I’ve tasted what it might be like to belong to one subbie.
But I scan the list of new applicants daily and she hasn’t shown up at the club.
She also hasn’t revealed my secret to the world., so maybe that was never her intent.
I feel like a cartoon roadrunner, impatiently waiting for a piano to fall out of the sky and land on my head.
I glance at my watch and curse under my breath. I’m late for the Bruins Big Ten game against the Hoosiers. Pulling on my jacket as I head out the door, I grab the keys and race to the garage.
In Friday night L.A. traffic, getting to the stadium should take a good forty-five minutes.
I’m going to do it in twenty.
The parking situation is shit at the Rose Bowl, but my membership to the Terry Donahue Club offers a few perks, so once I’m through the main gate, I’m parked and out of my car in no time.
The stadium is packed tonight, family and friends filling the suites, fans spilling out of loge boxes, and news outlets propping up cameras anywhere they’ve been allowed access.
Everyone and their mother turn out for this event.
Friday night games are a big deal around here, but the first Big Ten game of the season is next level exciting.
And tonight’s match between L.A. and Indiana is slated to be a phenomenal show.
I scan the suite for a familiar face, grabbing a cold beer from a young server as I stride toward the open patio.
Most of the employees here are college students, and I’m always amazed that they’re old enough to sling drinks.
As I get older, I swear these kids get younger and younger.
There’s no way I looked this young at their age.
There are a few other agents here, as expected, but none that I’m worried about. The player I’m here to watch has already built quite a fan following, so it’s unsurprising that I’m not the only one here to observe.
Spotting Gray across the patio, I head toward him, smirking when I see the woman draped on his arm. Sasha has been his on-again-off-again girl for months now, but I had been under the impression she ended it weeks ago.
And he calls me obsessed.
I clink my beer bottle against his by way of greeting, then incline my head to the hottest woman to run a billiards table since The Black Widow. “Sasha, you look lovely as always.”
“Thank you, Max.” She grins up at me, then places a hand on Gray’s chest and her smile falls. “See? Is that so hard?”
Gray shoots me a glare and I take a long pull from the beer to hide my smile. Seems we both have a thing for ball-busters.
The game’s already in full gear, so I watch a few plays, making small talk with the people closest to me, but I have to admit, I’m only half paying attention.
I can’t quite focus on the task at hand, my mind wandering to dark bathrooms and dirty secrets.
The entire first quarter is over in a blink, and even when I really try to focus on the second, my mind insists on wandering.
I can’t get Sutton Hart—or that night in my downstairs bathroom—out of my head.
She’s everything I think about. It was bad before, always there in the back of my mind, the silly hope that I’d bump into her at a charity gala or a sporting event.
For years now, I’d show up to watch a prospective client dominate the field or court, all the while scanning the stands for the woman who gives me nothing when all I want is to give her everything.
But now that I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to take some of that weight from Sutton’s shoulders, I’m positively fucked. That's all I can think about.
“Holy shit!” Gray shouts, then whistles appreciatively. “Did you fucking see that?”
I blink, scanning the field. Goddamnit, I didn’t see a thing.
I look at Gray and he lifts one eyebrow. “Safe to say you’re more distracted than usual. You just missed an epic play by Mac Timms. You know, the kid we’re supposed to be watching tonight?”
I bring the bottle to my lips and finish off the beer, then hand it to a passing server. “One more of these when you get a sec.”
The kid nods and disappears into the crowd of football fans.
“Thanks!” I shout after him as an afterthought.
“This is your favorite game of the year,” Gray says, pulling my attention back to him. “And you’re not even watching.”
“No, I’m watching, I just…” Fuck’s sake.
My eyes drift down to the loge seats on the next level, a head of wavy, dark brown hair catching my attention. I wait, willing the woman to turn around so I can confirm who I think it is. If she’d just look up—
But then she laughs, tilting her head back, and my pulse accelerates. I’d know that woman’s laugh anywhere.
My mouth goes dry.
“Christ, man, will you just get her into bed already so we can all get on with our lives?”
My eyes flick to Gray, then Sasha. “Apologies for my friend. Apparently, he’s an uncouth asshole.”
Gray chuckles. “She’s aware. But you know what I mean, man. This obsession is getting ridiculous.”
Preaching to the choir. “She wants nothing to do with me.”
“I think we both know that’s a crock of shit.”
“Who are we talking about?” Sasha asks, scanning the people around us.
Gray points to the level below. “The only woman to ever turn down a date with the infamous Max Cruz.”
Sasha looks from Sutton up to me, eyes narrowing. “I doubt she’s the only one.”
“Gee, thanks, Sash.”
“No offense.”
“None taken.” My eyes drift down to the loge level, finding Sutton immediately even though she’s wandered away from the box she was in when I first spotted her.
She smiles and laughs with everyone she speaks to and the easy engagement makes my chest tighten with a twinge of jealousy.
Why everyone else gets this side of her will always be a source of confusion and frustration for me. She works so hard to push me away—
“What’s stopping you from going down there?
You need a pep talk, buddy?” Gray steps into my line of sight and grips my shoulders.
“You’re Maxwell fucking Cruz, man. Best QB in the league.
Three-time MVP and two-time Superbowl champ.
I mean, shit, man, look at you.” He cups my cheek affectionately.
“You’re nearly as handsome as I am. You run the biggest and best sports agency of our time, and you still have all your hair—”
“I sound like a douchebag.”
Sasha giggles, then quickly tries to cover the sound by clearing her throat. She gives me an apologetic smile, then focuses on something extremely interesting on the floor.
“I’m just saying. You’re not some schmuck who can’t get a girl and has to pine over them. We’re go-getters, you and me, so fuck, bro, go get her.”
I glance at Sasha, who gives me an encouraging nod. “She’d be lucky to have you.”
Smiling, I straighten, then give them both an affirmative nod. They’re right.
But even if they’re wrong, I’m not giving up on this woman.
She may pretend to hate me, but I know she doesn’t, not truly. Sure, she’s pissed off about that Vegas trip, and rightfully so, but if I got her attention once, who’s to say I can’t get it again?
And this time I won’t throw it away.
This time, I’ll be the man she deserves.
No, I am the man she deserves.
Smiling at people as I pass but avoiding any attempts at conversation, I make my way through the suite.
Sutton’s here, at my favorite event for my favorite fucking team. I’ve never seen her at a Bruins game before. That has to mean something.
Either she’s here because the universe is intent on fucking with me…
Or she’s here because we’re meant to give this thing a shot.
I move quickly toward the level below, searching for that head of wavy brown hair as I make my way through the crowd. As soon as I stop in the general area she was in when I spotted her from above, something happens on the field and the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
Fuck, I missed another impressive play.
But now that everyone’s standing, it’s impossible to find her. I frown as I scan the crowd—
“Yikes. Who crapped in your cereal?”
Relieved, I turn toward the sound of Sutton’s voice. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Her smile falls. “I haven’t seen my mother since I was five years old,” she deadpans.
I swallow hard, scrubbing a hand through my hair. “Jesus, Sutton, I’m—”
Her lips quirk up into a gorgeous smile. “I’m fucking with you. I’ve worked through that trauma in therapy.” She pats my chest with one hand as she brings a beer to her lips with the other, then proceeds to drink half of the pint in one go.
My eyes widen as I watch her throat work around each swallow. My hand twitches, the memory of what it felt like to press against that slender neck etched into the very skin of each finger.
She brings the glass away from her mouth, licking the beer from her lips, then her brows furrow as she holds my gaze. “You’re doing it again.”
I swallow, trying to dislodge the thickness from my throat. “Hm?”
“You’re looking at me like…” She frowns.
“Like what, Sutton?”
Eyes narrowing, she searches my face.
“Speak your mind.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, narrowing briefly. “Sometimes you look at me like…” She giggles awkwardly. “Like you’re going to eat me alive.” She swallows hard, then drags her teeth over her bottom lip, that crease of contemplation appearing between her brows.
Fuck me. I have to change the subject. “How many of those have you had?” I point to the beer.
Sutton laughs. “Not enough to let you eat me alive, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
I choke on a laugh and quickly break into a coughing fit, drawing the attention of the people walking past.
Grinning, Sutton asks, “What are you doing here?”
When I can compose myself enough to speak, I motion toward the field. “Aside from the whole sports agent thing, this is my team.”
Sutton’s eyes narrow, then she nods, as if accepting my answer. “Huh.”
“What, huh?”
She shrugs. “I just would have pegged you for more of a Trojan.”
My mouth drops, and I grab her elbow, tugging her away from the crowd and into a nearby alcove of plants. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Do you make it a habit of manhandling women?”
I drop my hand lightning fast. “No, I-uh—”
Sutton laughs. “I’m teasing you.”
I force a smile, but she’s unnerved me. I’m usually better behaved, and I certainly don’t manhandle women without explicit permission.
And begging. Plenty of begging.
But what is happening here? Sutton Hart teasing me? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.
“You look like you need a beer.” She jerks her head toward the level above. “You going to stick around, or are you heading back up to the fancypants section?”
Smirking, I tilt my head. “You saw me.”
“You’re hard to miss.”
“Because I’m so hot?”
“Because you’re so big.” She focuses on my forehead. “Do they even make hats your size?”
I chuckle, then step out of the alcove. “Ha.”
“I’m just saying,” she says as she strides past me, “it’s got to be difficult trying to find a hat that will fit that big ol’ head of yours.”
She strides up to the complimentary drink station, then looks back at me over her shoulder. “You’re an IPA guy, right?’
“I don’t even own any Carhartt flannels,” I tease, then turn to address the bartender. “You got any of that Fast Lane Amber back there?”
Nodding, he grabs a cold bottle out of the ice, opens it, then hands it across the bar, looking at Sutton expectantly. “Another IPA?”
I snort, lifting my bottle in salute when she glares at me.
“It’s a hazy, west coast style,” she says as if I give a shit.
“Hey now, I’m not judging. If you’re an IPA guy, that’s between you and your god.”
Sutton clinks her pint glass against the neck of my beer bottle. “Loser buys the next round.”
My mouth drops open as she brings the beer to her lips and begins to chug.
Is it too soon to tell her I’m in love?