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Even if Tillerson was laughing, Corey didn’t find it funny. “Is that seriously a possibility?” He’d have to get the kid off that fast, and that was the last thing Corey needed to add on to his life. Of course he couldn’t get a normal rookie to look out for. He’d have to have the one hooked on something.
“What is it with old people and their inability to take a joke?” Tillerson asked, annoyed. There was a crack of an unmistakable laugh, followed quickly by a fake cough, and Corey whipped his head around to where it had come from.
Now that she’d turned to face him, Corey couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her sooner. Taran stood, black pants, blue shirt, hair clipped back, looking exactly like a trainer and blending in like she belonged. He frowned at her.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
“Good to see you too,” she assured him before turning back to Tillerson. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, I’ll take care of all of it on my end. You just sit back and enjoy the ride.” Taran sent Tillerson one of those smiles that did something to Corey’s gut.
“Just the kind of woman I like.” The rookie wrapped his arm around Taran. He wanted to take Taran on the road?
“Fuck, you move through men faster than a two-bit hooker,” Corey snapped at her.
Tillerson looked a bit put off by his comment, but Corey just found himself on the receiving end of one a Taran’s withering looks.
“Every thirty days, but sometimes it’s a woman,” she assured him.
Did she really date women too?
She didn’t explain the comment, just scooted out of Tillerson’s grasp. “Wallpaper.” She said it like it was a reminder, but even as Tillerson smiled in agreement, Corey was lost.
The locker room was filling up as practice was winding down, but Corey couldn’t focus on anything but the petite, dark-haired woman who was hovering around Tillerson’s locker, trying to blend in. He wanted to tell her she was doing a crappy job, because as the trainer finished up with his massage and retaped him, and as he was left to get dressed, all he noticed was her. The way she watched the rookie carefully, analyzing his every interaction. The way she noticed everyone in his vicinity, and the way her mint-green eyes assessed everything about the situation. It was pissing him off. This afternoon, she had told him she wasn’t interested in anything serious, but she was seriously interested in watching the rookie from Alabama good old boy her. She didn’t miss anything going on around Tillerson.
Anything, that is, but him. Corey, she systematically ignored.
He should be getting dressed. He should be gone already. Will couldn’t make the trip out west with the rest of the Evanses for Clayton’s big day because of an important swim meet, so Corey was supposed to meet him at six. They planned to eat before the first round, but at this rate, he was going to be late because he still had to stop at home and deal with the dogs. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
“Tillerson, you up for Poison tonight?” Daily yelled.
Corey watched him almost agree before he looked behind him. Taran raised one slim eyebrow.
He sighed. “I can’t. I have plans.”
That galled Corey. First that Taran had plans with Tillerson, and second that the guy didn’t realize what a lucky son of a bitch he was.
“We can push this back. You were the one who called me,” she assured him, looking like she truly couldn’t care either way.
“No.” He sighed. “Everyone says it’s important. I want to do it.” The reluctance was ridiculous, even as he assured her he was interested.
Corey felt that burning desire to hit something building in his system. Any kind of physical outlet would work, even pinning Little Miss Eyebrow against the wall. Yeah, that would work. Pin her up against the wall. Her body pressed hard against his. He’d lock her hands over her head and hold her tight against him. The swell of her breasts would press into the wall of his chest.
Grimacing, he stopped that train of thought. He was going to tent his towel if he wasn’t careful. He dropped his elbows to his knees and ran his hand over his face. He had to get a grip.
“Hey, Matthews, you coming with us tonight?” Daily asked.
“Eh,” Corey replied, looking toward Daily. He’d never been a huge fan of the bar or club scene in New York. Plus, his plans with Will, which he was now going to be late for.
“Come on. Aren’t the Evans all in Cali for the draft?” another guy asked. Three years ago, not one person in the Metros knew he was close with the Evanses. Now, because of his friendship with Marc, everyone knew. Marc was a lot less private about things.
“Most of `em,” Corey agreed.
“Oh, he has Demoda’s so-called dogs then.” Daily laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’d do it. He might be your best bud lately, but they’re still your ex-girlfriend’s dogs.”
Corey glanced over and saw Taran jerk upright. He shut his eyes. She’d just realized who she’d been talking to online. He couldn’t think about it, though, because he had to answer the guys.
“Yeah, I have the mutts, so unless I want to live in Demoda’s dogs’ pee, I’m stuck home until after Clayton is signed.”
He turned his eyes on Taran, and she mouthed one word: “asshat.” His mood sank even lower. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized he’d been hoping she thought they had become something—friends, maybe. But the look she shot him said that wasn’t the case, and it bothered him even more because she had something going on with the idiot kid.
