Chapter 9
nine
Brant
“Brant.” Daylen reaches out his hand to mine. “I thought you and your brothers would be heading back to Canada by now.”
I extend my arm and shake Daylen’s hand, not ready to explain to the team owner that my brothers and I made a terrible mistake this morning with one of his employees.
Last night was risky enough--we can’t tempt fate and have a repeat until after the draft.
But that doesn't mean we can’t stay in town a little longer and check on Blair.
“We had some extra time, so we thought we would stay a few more days in town and catch a couple of games.” It’s a terrible excuse, and by the way he’s looking at the three of us, I’m not sure Daylen is buying it.
“Sure, anytime. Have a seat,” he motions for us to sit at one of the high-top tables in the owners’ luxury box.
“Blair is our hostess in the owner’s box tonight.
She’ll take care of getting you whatever you need.
" As if saying her name conjures her, she walks into the luxury box wearing a team t-shirt that stretches tightly across her chest, a short skirt, and heels. She might be dressed like the rest of the servers in the box, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Now, gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I have to give our goalie a good luck kiss before the game.”
Blair rolls her eyes as she walks over to our table, “What can I get you gentlemen…to drink?” She adds quickly.
It’s all I can do to stop myself from pulling her into my arms and never letting her go. “We’ll take three beers, whatever you have on tap.” I manage to say.
Her hips sway seductively as she heads to the bar to get our drinks. I’m pretty sure it’s not intentional, or at least not for us, judging by the glare she gave us when she took our order.
“I bet she spits in our drinks,” Charlie mumbles. “We’re such assholes.”
I don’t correct his assessment, because he’s right. We never should have treated her the way we did this morning.
We keep watching as she smiles and talks with everyone she meets, her smile genuine and sweet, unlike the one she gives us. She slams our beers onto the table, causing the foam to rise and spill over the edges of the glasses.
By the time the game was over, I couldn’t even tell you who won. The only reason I knew the Iowa Poseidon won was because Blair was handing shots out to everyone—everyone except us.
“Will that be all, gentlemen?” Blair stops by our table one last time.
“No, come back to our hotel room with us," I say before I can stop myself, shocking everyone at the table. “Just to talk, so we can apologize.” I quickly add as I see her resistance weakening.
“Fine, but I have to finish cleaning up here and take a shower.” The thought of her in the shower, all soaped up, makes my cock throb behind the zipper of my pants.
“No problem. We’ll send a car to pick you up at your house—say in about two hours.”
With a nod, she turns around and walks back to the bar, setting her drink tray down.
“What are you doing?” Remy asks, removing his hand from his lip now that Blair is too far away to see his scar.
Damn, I hate Jane for messing him up like this.
For years, he struggled with the teasing of ignorant people.
As he got older, he realized they weren’t worth his time, and he was able to shake off any comments about it.
But then Jane set him back years in his progress.
“We’re going to talk to her and apologize for our behavior. I’ll explain everything to her, and if we’re lucky, she’ll forgive us. And if we’re really lucky, she’ll agree to wait for us until after the draft.”
It’s a solid plan. What could go wrong?