“Not here!” Greg finishes, and they high-five each other. At Jack’s confused expression, she clarifies. “We have a policy of not talking about our kids on date nights.”
Jack laughs at that. “Fair enough.”
Our server interrupts to take my drink order, and this time I wise up and request my usual pinot.Betty can bite me.
“Do you have any nieces or nephews, Jack?” Christine asks, sipping her martini.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s just my older brother and me, and he and his wife divorced before they had any kids.”
“Ah. Well, if you’re bored or hate sleeping, we have a couple we’re willing to lend you.”
Jack chuckles. “Sign me up.”
“So, how’d you two meet?” Greg asks.
Jack’s face lights up and he turns toward me. “Well, it’s a funny story, actually—”
“That we don’t need to get into right now,” I cut him off instantly.
“Oh come on, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a great story.” When I make no move to share it, he turnsback to Christine and Greg, his now-captive audience of two. “You could say she fell into my path.”
I slant him a look. “You could also say he blackmailed me into a date.”
“She was blowing a little hot and cold,” he tells them conspiratorially.
“The details aren’t important,” I say hastily, desperate to wrest back control of this conversation. “Long story short, we crossed paths at a cologne launch party for Eric Jessup a couple of weeks ago that I was covering for Siren. Jack happens to be friends with Eric, and he was kind enough to help me get a quote.”Downplay your professional competence so he doesn’t feel threatened: check!
Greg coughs. “Friends with Eric Jessup? Huh. That’s cool.” He eyes me over the rim of his glass as he takes a long swig of his drink. Pretty sure the poor guy’s head is about to explode.
“I apologize for my husband,” Christine tells Jack, patting Greg’s hand consolingly. “I didn’t give him enough notice about your identity, and he’s very starstruck. He’s trying so hard to be cool and just failing miserably.”
Jack chuckles. “I promise, most of the Brawler stuff is not nearly as exciting as it looks from the outside. Most days it’s just a job like any other.”
Greg considers that for about half a second. “I don’t believe you.”
Christine smacks his arm but Jack only laughs, clearly used to having this conversation. “Fine, the connections part is useful, I’ll give you that.”
“And the access to every major sporting event,” Greg points out.
“And that.”
“And the personal friendships with the greatest athletes in the world.”
“Fine, those too,” he concedes with a grin. “But there’s also unflattering media attention, constant lawsuits, employee headaches, a perpetually dissatisfied board of directors that complicates every decision we try to make... trust me, it’s not all Super Bowls and Stanley Cups.”
I can’t help myself. “Come on, you don’t get to complain about negative media attention whenyou’rethe ones courting controversy.”
“Ah, there she is! That fiery, slightly unhinged woman who told me off at a bar.” Jack’s eyes spark as they fix on me. “I wondered where she’s been hiding.”
Crap.I realize my mistake the second my brain catches up with my mouth: I’ve broken character again.Betty would never talk back to her man.But hot damn, staying silent and submissive issomuch harder than it looks.
“She’s been here the whole time,” I say eventually, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Has she, though?” His dark eyes are lit in challenge and I’m reminded that helikesthis push-pull dynamic between us; he enjoys being provoked. The site is calledBrawler, after all.
So I give him what he wants: a heaping dose of Cassidy. “She has. Guess I just didn’t expect you to play the ‘poor little rich boy’ card. Not sure it suits you.”
I keep my tone playful, careful to ensure I can pass off the dig as flirty banter. He doesn’t flinch—not visibly, anyway—but when I look closer, I see a shadow reflected in his eyes, and for one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, I think I’ve scored adirect hit. Strangely, the knowledge doesn’t give me the satisfaction I thought it would.
