Page 28 of Out of Bounds

“You guys really don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

Devlin let out another laugh, seeming to relax a bit. The look on his face changed from a professional, customer service smile, to something a lot more natural. Like he was just another one of the guys. “Bunz is a sports bar she-shed.”

“I don’t get it,” Gunnar said, glancing back and forth between the two men. He was missing something—he just couldn’t figure out what.

“It’s Hooters for chicks…women,” Cowboy told him.

“Is that a reference I’m supposed to get?”

“Hooters is a restaurant here in the States where the waitstaff, which is almost universally female, all wear these short little shorts and tight, low-cut tank tops showing off their…”

“Hooters,” Devlin interjected, holding his cupped hand in front of his chest miming boobs.

A wave of panic washed over Gunnar as he listened to these two explain, thoughts racing through his head. This is where his daughter was working?

“We’re not gonna see any dick, right? They’re not my thing. After a career spent in locker rooms, I’m more than comfortable with them,” Cowboy said. “Just not with dinner.”

“Place is called Bunz, not Pythons.”

Ignoring the conversation happening around him, Gunnar looked over at the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Talia to see what she was wearing. Please do not let her be in some low-cut tank top, he thought. The idea bothered him way more than he knew it should. He had no say in the matter, but he would much prefer that she work some place where everyone remained clothed.

A few more people had sat down on the side of the bar he could see since they’d arrived, making it so it was hard to see if Talia was over there or not. What did catch his eye, however, was the golden hue of a certain blonde sitting by herself at the end of the bar.

Felicity.

Her long legs were crossed at the ankles, tucked under the stool, the rest of her sitting up as straight as an arrow. A tall, dark-haired woman who looked to be about Felicity’s age slid a martini in front of her, giving her a small smile before disappearing from his view. He watched as Felicity’s body slumped slightly, her middle finger slowly tracing the rim of the martini glass. He felt an anger start to bubble inside him as he watched her, not sure where it was coming from. Maybe it was that she’d run out on him in the middle of the night last night, even after he’d put her to bed and stayed with her, or maybe it was just that she’d gotten his daughter a job at a place where she was potentially going to be viewed as a sex object, but either way, he was suddenly itching to let her have it.

Pushing up from his seat, he brushed past Devlin, who was deep into conversation with Cowboy about who knew what, making his way straight to the too-sexy-for-her-own-good blonde.

“Where are you going?” Cowboy called. Gunnar didn’t even bother turning around to acknowledge the question. He was on a mission now.

“Effie,” he said, his voice low and gruff. Felicity jumped at the word, almost knocking over her drink in the process. She must not have heard him come up behind her. Good.

“Don’t call me that,” she growled in response, sneering at him as she picked up her drink to take a sip. Everything about her was long and graceful as she lifted the glass to her mouth, her neck muscles quivering ever so slightly as she swallowed. His mind immediately flashed to the thought of her swallowing other things, and he had to remind himself to get his head out of the gutter.

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want,” he said. “Especially now that I know just what kind of place you got my daughter a job at.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“This…this…meat market.”

“It’s not a meat market. It’s a sports bar geared toward women,” she snapped back.

“It’s a sausagefest! She’s surrounded by nothing but half-naked men, like it’s Magic Mike or something!”

“One, Talia is an adult, she can make choices on her own. Two, did you not read the back of the fucking menu?! This place is meant to be a safe place for women. It has nothing to do with Magic Mike!”

“Then what do you call that?” he asked, pointing over to a booth full of women who were very obviously staring at a waiter who was down on all fours, retrieving something underneath a nearby table.

“Oh my God, seriously?! He must have dropped his pen or something. And don’t act like you’ve never stared when a woman walked by in a tight skirt,” she accused, her finger pointed at him.

Like I was staring at yours the other day…

“Link, give me one of those, please,” she demanded of a sandy-haired waiter who was walking by. The guy handed her one of the menus, giving her a smile and a wink before he turned to go. Clearing her throat, Felicity gave him a pointed look, before reading from the menu. “For the love of the game—that's why we’re here. Football, hockey, baseball, soccer, basketball, rugby—you name it, we’re here for it. What we’re not here for is to be told that there is no way we really understand the offside rule, when something is out of bounds, or if we know what we’re talking about when we give our opinion on never-ending debate regarding abolishing the designated hitter. Yes, I am a woman. And yes, as a woman, I do know what is and isn’t a completed pass, a goal, when they should face off, or whether something was a foul. I don’t need to be told. And I most certainly don’t need it mansplained. So, whether you’re here to swear at the refs without your children hearing, just want a night out, or simply because damn, those players look good in their uniforms, then welcome to Bunz. We’re happy to have you.”

Felicity slapped the menu down on the bar, not even trying to hide her annoyance from him. He could tell by the look in her eyes that her own anger was rising inside her.