“Pretty sure I sound the same,” I whisper breathily, my hipsbeginning to circle against his hard cock. It’s hitting my core perfectly. “But I still can’t. I have two guinea pigs. I need to go home to check on them.”
His head pops up, a look of disbelief covering his handsome face. “What is it with people in this city and guinea pigs? That has to be the most random pet ever.”
“You know others who have piggies?”
“Yeah, like half the Denver Wolves team has them by now. And my buddy Jamie got with a girl who has five of them. They have this massive cage in his office that must have cost a couple thousand.”
“My two share a normal cage. I’d love to give them a nicer one, but I can’t afford it yet.”
Max’s phone chimes, and he lets out a sad sigh. “We have to go. They’re loading the buses.”
Damn. I was enjoying the chat and the kiss. “Oh. Okay. Let me down, please.”
When Max doesn’t budge, I roll my eyes, making him smirk. “Not until you agree to come home with me. Or let me come home with you.”
I should say no. Tell him again how bad an idea this is, and remind him my job may be on the line. But I get lost in his eyes, and I find myself agreeing. “Okay. You can come home with me. I’ll text you my address.”
Max lets go of my legs, allowing me to slide down from his waist. “I know your address, Lay. Don’t you remember me following you home after our hike?”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remembered it.”
He chuckles. “Remember the awful apartment where you shouldn’t be living? Yeah, baby. I remember it.”
Wow. Calling me baby is new. Max pecks my lips once, then walks into his room to finish packing. He waits for me, then we walk toward the elevator. Thinking about what he said about his friends, I speak up. “How many of your friends have guinea pigs?”
“Well, they aren’t all friends. Jamie is a friend, and I know JaxMitchell through him. Gabe Dawson played with Jax on the Wolves, but he’s since retired. I’m not sure if anyone else has fallen down the guinea pig hole yet.”
“And all of their wives are okay with the pigs?”
“I guess so. I’ve never asked. Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never had friends who also have piggies. It would be kind of cool to talk to others with the same pet. I know there are groups online, but that seems so weird. I’d prefer to know I’m speaking with real people.”
As I hit the down button for the elevator, Max pulls out his phone. “Let me reach out to Jamie. I bet his girlfriend would love to talk to you about guinea pigs. She’s a veterinarian too, so she’s really knowledgeable.”
Well, that would be nice. Max has mentioned Jamie before, but I haven’t looked up Jamie’s girlfriend. Probably some beautiful model who looks wonderful on his arm.
As we enter the elevator, Max’s phone rings. “Shit. It’s my agent. He never calls before a game, so this can’t be good.”
He never calls? That’s odd. I’ve heard tons of players talk about speaking to their agent before a game. Does Max have some kind of superstition where he won’t speak to his agent?
“I’m going to take this here. I’ll see you on the buses,” Max says hastily, stepping out of the elevator. As the doors close, I hear him say, “Hey, Troy. What’s up?”
I’m quiet as I place my bags inside the luggage compartment, then I jog back inside to make sure the conference room we’ve been using has been emptied of all essential supplies. Satisfied that the team cleaned up after themselves, I run back to the buses. As I step onto the second bus, Coach looks at me. “Where’s Callahan?”
“He said his agent called him, and he’d be down in a minute,” I answer hastily. Sitting down, I watch as Max beelines for the first bus, which is peculiar. For the most part, the players have always sat on the first bus, while the stragglers are relegated to the second bus with the coaching staff. I watch, completely befuddled, as JakeHolloway exits the first bus and sullenly boards ours. He slams down in the seat across from me. “You okay?”
“I was,” he snaps. Looking over at me, I’m surprised at the anger in them. “You know, I have superstitions too. So if I play shitty today, it’s Callahan’s fault. Just because he’s older, he gets to order me out of my seat? That’s bullshit.”
“Why’d he tell you to move?” I ask.
Jake shrugs. “I don’t know. Said he got some news and didn’t want to be on this bus.”
What the heck?
Opening our text exchange, I fire one off.
Me
