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“I guess she has to if she’s writing a story on Tillerson.” He shrugged. “But she’s probably going to be grouchy. She’s pissed because she found out I’ve been stalking her on Diablo since before the wedding.”
“What?” Will coughed, choking.
“You okay?” he asked, giving Will two swift pounds on the back.
Will nodded. “Why are you stalking Taran?”
“Not really stalking. I searched for her and played with her a few times a week. I just didn’t tell her it was me, but today she found out. She’s pissed.” Corey laughed. He shouldn’t think it was funny, but she wasn’t dating Tillerson, and that just made him feel lighter.
“It’s a good thing I was around when you and Beth started dating. Otherwise I would really question your sanity.”
What did that have to do with anything? “Why?”
Will never got to answer because Seattle selected Clayton as the first pick of the draft.
The next night when Corey stormed into Will’s, he had a different agenda in mind.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Will’s eyes narrowed. Corey glanced down. He thought he looked perfect. “Did you get a haircut since the game?” Will asked incredulously. It was an afternoon game, so it had been a few hours. It wasn’t that odd.
“I just cleaned it up when I got a shave,” Corey explained.
“Shaved implies a smooth face,” Will said, and Corey crossed his arms. “You got a haircut, a beard trim, and put on an outfit that should be on a runway for some damn designer, all to come over to my house?” Will clearly didn’t believe this was the case. Which, of course, it wasn’t.
“Want to go out?” he asked his best friend.
“Out? It’s Sunday.”
“Yes. We always sit around here. Let’s go out.” Corey smiled.
Will stood up and crossed his arms. “What the hell? You want to go out Sunday night at ten o’clock?”
Normally this would be a very out-of-character request for Corey, but after the game, the rest of the team had been all about a night out. They talked about it the entire time he did his interviews and as he iced down and when he got dressed. He wasn’t letting them go out without him.
“What kind of out?”
“Beatrice Inn,” Corey said.
“You want to go clubbing the night before a long road trip?” Will cocked his head to the side as his eyebrows pulled together.
“You know if we wait until I get back, Beth and Marc will be home, and then we’ll never go because they won’t. They’re no fun anymore,” Corey explained.
“They have four kids.” Will shook his head. “Whatever. Fine, I’ll get dressed, but I can’t stay out until three a.m. I have swim practice in the morning.”
Corey didn’t want to stay out that late either. He hoped this would be a quick trip. It didn’t take Will very long to pull himself together, and less than an hour later they walked into the VIP area of the club.
“Where we headed?” Will asked over the music.
“Over to the team,” Corey responded, nodding his head to the back where he could just see of a few of the guys.
“The team.” Will’s lips pulled into a firm line, but he nodded. “Of course, I must have been a dumbass not to realize.”
“What?” Corey asked.
“Tillerson’s here,” Will responded.
Corey nodded, and Will rolled his eyes as they headed over. Corey’s gaze zeroed in on the little reason he had come. She stood almost in the corner, about three feet behind Tillerson. She looked taller than usual, and Corey couldn’t help but scan her body—from her short black shorts down her toned legs to the black fuck-me heels on her tiny feet. His attention moved back up to the loose silver tank with a deep scoop neck, the made-up face, and the silver dangles that danced in her jet-black hair. She looked exactly like she belonged in a club surrounded by ball players. No one would be surprised to see her leaving with any one of the many Metros around her. But Corey would be damn sure that didn’t happen. She didn’t seem to notice his approach because those sea-mist eyes of hers were focused completely on Tillerson.
“Taran.” Will got to her first, and she turned her attention to him.
