Page 2 of The Player I Can’t Pick

There’s no way I can sit here and listen to this.

At the same time, I can’t exactly do what I want to do either. She’s too young, and I already know I wouldn’t trust myself around her. I’d walk over there intending to help, and five minutes later, I’d be asking if she wanted to leave with me.

“Her profile says her name is Nicole,” one of them says.

I’m still eavesdropping, but I don’t give a damn anymore.

Nicole. I let the name roll around in my head. It suits her.

The men laugh again, and the sound grates through me.

“Maybe I’ll go over there,” the one with the phone says. “See if she’s desperate enough to put out.”

My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand, and both men look up at me.

For a second, neither of them seems to recognize me. Then the one holding the phone narrows his eyes. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re Guy Brody.”

I lean down and look him in the eye. “And you’re about to delete her number.”

His mouth opens. “What?” he stutters.

I glare between the two of them. “Delete her number.”

“Who?” he asks dumbly.

I grit my teeth. “The woman you’re disrespecting.”

His friend looks between us. “We were just joking.”

I glare at him. “I didn’t hear anything funny.”

The guy with the phone swallows hard. “Look, man, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“You matched with her, made plans to meet her, and now you’re sitting back here talking about her.” I hold my hand out. “Unmatch her.”

He stares at me, and I raise my eyebrows. There’s no way this asshole is getting out of here without unmatching himself to Nicole.

He quickly looks down at the screen, taps a few times, and holds the phone up as proof. “Done.”

“Good.” I straighten and look at both of them. “Now leave.”

Neither one argues. They grab their beers and disappear into the crowd so quickly that I almost smile.

When I turn back around, Nicole is watching me. There’s no doubt about it this time. Her eyes move from my face to the empty chairs behind me, and a small crease forms between her eyebrows. I wonder how much she heard or if she saw them leave.

She looks toward the entrance before checking her phone. The corners of her lips turn down, and her shoulders drop slightly.

Fuck. I did that.

No doubt she just received the notification that the asshole unmatched with her. She doesn’t know what he said or that I made him leave. As far as she knows, he took one look at her and decided she wasn’t worth staying for.

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

She shouldn’t feel embarrassed. She shouldn’t be sitting there wondering what’s wrong with her when there isn’t a damn thing wrong. The only person who should be ashamed is the asshole who walked away from the most beautiful woman in the room.

I’m not going to touch her. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

I’m going to walk over there, explain what happened, and offer her a ride home. That’s it. I have a flight to catch, and she’s too young for me. Getting involved with her would be a bad idea for more reasons than I can count.