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“Does she have a crush on one of the players?” I asked when it was my turn at the door.
“Any of the single guys will do, as far as she’s concerned,” Stephanie mumbled from behind me.
“Happy birthday,” the bouncer murmured as he handed my driver’s license back to me. “Enjoy yourself tonight.”
I flashed him a smile before tucking my ID back into the holder stuck on the back of my phone. “Thanks.”
After I walked through the doors, Ivy wrapped her fingers around my wrist to tug me toward the bar to a small stand to our right. “C’mon, Naomi said we need to check in over here to let them know we’re pre-booked for bottle service.”
“So awesome.” Darla rushed over to the woman who took our information and led us to a table with a reserved sign.
We piled into the curved booth, and before we could even look at the drink menu, our server arrived. “Good evening, ladies. I’m Melanie, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. I understand you’re celebrating a birthday?”
Ivy slung her arm around my shoulders. “Yup, my roommate just turned twenty-one this morning.”
“Fantastic!” Melanie beamed a smile at me. “I’ll bring over a fun shot to help get your night started, along with your bottle service. For that, you have your choice between vodka, rum, or tequila, gin, whiskey, or champagne. And we have a ton of mixer options as well. Everything’s already been taken care of, so feel free to choose whatever tickles your fancy.”
Darla let out a low whistle. “Dang, your client really came through, Ivy.”
“Mm-hmm.” My roommate flashed an apologetic smile at the server before we placed our order, selecting a bottle priced smack-dab in the middle much to Darla’s irritation since she’d wanted to go with the most expensive one. I had a feeling we would regret letting her come along…unless she managed to snag herself a football player.
2
COLE
“We’re looking good for this season,” Lennox, the owner of the New York Nighthawks, said as he sat in the chair next to me. “Some of those plays you’ve been calling shocked the shit out of me.”
I grinned at my boss and friend. “Just call ’em like I see ’em.” As the offensive coordinator for the team, I was in charge of the team’s offensive strategy and called the plays during the game. I was damn good at my job and had a reputation for keeping the other teams guessing.
Lennox chuckled. “Well, keep it up. I still have a couple of fingers that need a ring.”
“One finger,” chirped Lennox’s niece, Finley—who was also married to one of our offensive linemen. She sat across the table from us in the VIP section of a club owned by the friend of our head quarterback. She held up her left hand and wiggled her fourth digit. “I don’t think Aunt Brielle is gonna let you replace the one you already have on there.”
“Touché,” Lennox replied with a smirk, then he looked at me. “Don’t worry about stopping at nine, I’ll just switch them out on the other fingers.”
I laughed. “You’re the boss.”
“Damn right,” he grunted. Suddenly, he tensed, then yanked his phone from his pocket and answered excitedly. Lennox’s wife was due any day, so every time his cell rang, he expected it to be “the call.”
“Baby? Is it time? I—” He stopped, then sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Sure, baby. I’ll bring home some taquitos and plum ice cream. Yeah. I’m leaving in a few minutes. Of course. Love you too.”
Finley’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Who’s the boss?”
Lennox’s eyes narrowed as he stood and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “You’re still little enough for a spanking, Fin.”
Her cheeks turned pink, but the stubborn look in her eyes told me that Lennox wouldn’t like whatever she said next. “The only person allowed to spank me is Rhodes,” she said with a haughty sniff.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Lennox’s face turned purple and his head whipped around, looking for his nephew-in-law with murderous intent clear in his expression.
“Don’t you need to be getting back to your wife?” I asked, jumping to my feet and grabbing his arm. Anxious to avoid any injury to one of my best players, I started guiding Lennox toward the door that opened at the top of the stairs, which led down to the main floor. “Something about ice cream and Mexican food?”
Lennox glared over his shoulder, but he didn’t fight me when I nudged his shoulder to get him moving down the steps.
“If it wouldn’t make my niece hate my guts, I’d kill that kid for…” He gulped, obviously uncomfortable with even the thought of the girl he’d practically raised having sex.
“Just keep pretending they’re platonic friends,” I encouraged, biting back a chuckle.
