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“There’s a price that comes with fame. Look what happened to Parker with his puck bunny scandals, and Donovan has had his fair share of public incidents. Coming into the league at such a young age, I was not prepared for the fame. I only wanted the money and recognition that comes with it. But after my entire life had changed and I had nothing but people around me who were after my money or to use me to achieve their own fame, the shit got old fast. I cut everyone out of my life except Donovan.”
“I can tell you and Carter are close just from what I’ve read in the papers. That’s why I asked about women. I have only ever seen the two of you together in pictures outside the rink.”
He shoots me a repulsed look. “I’m not gay. We’re not…no, you have the wrong idea.”
I laugh so hard I snort, thankful my mug is empty, or I would have spit macchiato all over him. “I never said that. No, I do not think you are gay, Tyler. Trust me. You inspected every pair of tits and ass that has walked into the café since we sat down over an hour ago. A gay man would not do that.”
He flashes a shit-eating grin. “Not every pair. I can’t see what you have going on under that sweater. Did your grandmother knit that thing for you so men couldn’t figure out how to take it off you?”
This time I spit when I laugh, and he leans back in his chair to get away from the Slobber Queen. “No, my grandmother didn’t knit me this sweater. Sydney dressed me today I will have you know.”
“Nuh-uh. I’ve seen Sydney around, and she dresses like a runway model.”
“Enough about my clothes. You seem to have a hard on about it for whatever reason, and I haven’t finished answering your question about the blog.”
“I have a hard-on all right.” He smirks. “For the record, I hate the sweater because I have to imagine what’s underneath, and it does not suit you at all.”
Ignoring his comment, I decide to continue our conversation. “Anyway, Sydney wanted to name our blog Sex and Syd in the City, and of course, I vetoed that from the start. Originally, Sydney had planned to write on her own as part of her author branding until I agreed to be her co-blogger to fill in for her when she was on a tight deadline. The closer she gets to her pub dates she gets whacky. Writing alongside her happened to work out well for both of us. For me, it helps me keep my word counts up each day, and the same goes for Syd, but it ended up being a really great marketing tool for her books.”
“Long Sticks and Hard Shots,” he mumbles to himself as he removes his phone from his pocket.
I hold out my hand to stop him, mortified of what he will say when he reads our latest article. “Stop! Whatever you are doing just stop right now. Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” He gives me a mischievous grin, his fingers moving at a rapid pace along the keyboard. After he stops typing, his eyes widen as he scrolls down the screen.
“What?” I am dying to know what he is reading on our site that has him so intrigued.
“How to react when his stick ain’t all that?” He bursts into laughter, his voice so loud in the quiet café that the few people who are left, including the staff, are now staring at our table.
“Stop making a scene,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Everyone is staring at us.”
“So what. Let them stare.” Without looking up from his phone, he settles down for a few seconds before he has another outburst. He finds my article entertaining.
“You know this is the exact reason why I never tell anyone about the blog.”
“This is good stuff.” He points at the screen, still focused on the page. “You’re funny. Who would have known?”
“If you knew me, then you would know that I am not all business and no pleasure.”
He glances up, one eyebrow arched. “Is that so? Prove it.”
“How do you expect me to do that?”
“Go out with me, live a little, but please don’t wear that sweater.”
I roll my eyes at him, and he smiles in response. “How about I wear black leather pants and a mid-rise tank? Or maybe I will wear a bandage dress so tight I can’t breathe when I sit down. Would that be sexy enough for you?”
“Ah, yeah, that would do it.” Lowering his voice to a near whisper, he locks eyes with me. “My dick is getting hard just thinking about you in a dress.”
“And there you go ruining the moment.” Grabbing my jacket and purse, I push my chair out and stand. “Thanks for the coffee and shit conversation.”
Tyler hops out of his seat so fast he kicks the table with his foot, causing the mugs to clang as it rocks forward and back into place, setting down with a loud thud.
“Please don’t go. I shouldn’t have said that. I can be a jerk sometimes.”
“I would say that is a factual statement.” I slip into my jacket, trying my best to hold back from saying too much. “Do you even think before you speak or do you just shout the first thing that comes to mind like a child? You can’t go around talking to a lady like some hooker on a street corner.”
“Would a lady talk about cocks on the phone with strange men?”
