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“Do you trust me?” I asked.
Her eyebrows rose. She turned in the stool toward me and her knee bumped my leg. “Yes. Within reason.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I’m shouting to be heard.”
“We just got drinks,” she said, but it sounded like a weak protest. She was smiling as she said it.
I lifted my drink, opened my throat, and took the dirty martini in one gulp, like a shot. I swallowed and shook my head a little. It burned, but it wasn’t too bad. “I’m finished with mine.”
Dakota laughed. “That was impressive.”
“I went to a lot of frat parties in college.”
“I didn’t go to college.” She took her glass of champagne and tipped it over my empty martini glass. She poured the liquid straight down onto my abandoned olive and vodka dregs. “Oops. I spilled my drink.”
Yeah. She made my cock hard. No fucking question about it.
“What should we do about it?”
“We can leave.” She opened her purse and started to pull out her credit card.
I touched her wrist. “No. This is on me.”
“Thank you.” Dakota tucked her card back in her purse. “So is this where you tell me you know a quiet place where we can get a drink and it turns out to be your apartment?”
That would be cheesy as fuck, but I would have gone for it if it was an option.
I shook my head. “No. My daughters are at home with the nanny. There is no drinking, or anything else, happening at my apartment tonight. I really meant a bar with less people, if such a place exists. Or a restaurant.” I glanced at my phone. “It’s only ten.”
“You have daughters?” She sounded surprised.
I nodded. “Two. They’re twelve and eight. I have full custody of them. Their mom lives in Florida.” I didn’t want to elaborate too much but I wasn’t going to avoid the subject either. This was my life. The girls were my priority.
“Oh, I see. Do you have to be home at a certain time?”
“No. The nanny lives with us. She’s not expecting me home until late.”
“Do you have time to go to Harlem? Because I know a quiet place where we can get a drink and it’s my apartment.”
That wasn’t exactly around the corner, but fuck if I cared. “I definitely have time to go to Harlem.”
I tossed far too much money on the bar for our tab, making eye contact with the bartender and nodding as I slid the bills across the bar. I wanted out of there as soon as possible. “Are we good?” I asked him.
His eyes widened. “Yep. We’re great. Have a good night, sir.”
“Thanks, you too.” I moved away from the bar and offered Dakota a hand to help her off the stool. “Ready?”
Dakota took my hand. “Very.”
I led her toward the stairs, thinking running into her—or her running into me, technically—was the best coincidence I’d ever experienced. On the field or off.
Her hand was smooth in mine as we walked. Neither of us let go. The night we had met, I had done the same. It had felt more innocent then, friendly. Now it felt weighty, heated, sexy.
I had zero intention of finding Carson and Matt and telling them I was leaving. I didn’t want to hear their opinions. Carson would fret like my mother and Matt would razz me about potentially getting laid. I would just text them and let them know I’d left.
Out on the sidewalk, I raised my hand for a taxi.
Then impulsively, I bent down and kissed Dakota.
