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“Bro,” Daily said, pulling his attention back to him.
Corey let his eyes find Daily.
“Bring her. We all like Bridget. She’s hung out with us plenty. She’s my sister’s friend,” Daily pointed out.
The Silver Lining was a great spot to chill. The bar sat right on the lake, and since Ryan’s sister and her friends had bought it, it had become one of the more popular bars in Lake Tahoe. With the live music outside on the sand, it was the go-to bar this time of year. But Ryan always had his sister close off an upstairs area for the team when they were in town. With the bar, some sofas, and pool tables, it was perfect for the team to relax and let off steam. Daily might be all into the club scene in New York, but he didn’t want the big nightclub when he came home. He wanted a quiet night.
Corey frowned. He and Bridget had hung out with the team the last two times they were here. She was one of the silent owners of the Silver Lining, so it wasn’t weird. But now Taran was here with them. It was stupid to worry about her because she’d made it crystal clear that she didn’t want anything to do with Corey, but it still felt wrong to bring another woman around.
“Worried this time Bridge is going to ditch you for me?” Daily suggested, and Corey rolled his eyes. “You know I’d be more than thrilled to take that little lady off your hands.”
Corey just shook his head.
“Bro, I’m 100 percent serious.”
Yeah, Corey knew that.
Corey’s hand grazed the warm burgundy material of Bridget’s dress.
“You sure you want a drink with them?” he asked her again as they walked into the bar he’d been in many times before. Since it was a day game, it was barely eight o’clock, even after their dinner.
“Corey, enough. I’m the one making you stop at the bar.”
She rolled her dark brown eyes at him. Her dark skin was flawless besides the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She shook her hair, the tight curls dancing around the skin of her shoulders that the burgundy dress didn’t cover. Corey knew the woman a few years his senior was gorgeous. Men had been staring slack-jawed at her throughout dinner, but she never noticed.
She’d also have his teammates’ attention in about one minute, especially since they would be overdressed. When Daily took over the top floor of his sister’s bar, it meant sweatpants. The idea was low key; an invite-only type deal, no ball bunnies, no groupies, no press. It was just the team and friends.
They headed up the last two steps before rounding the corner, and Bridget nodded to security, who let them pass into the top floor without question.
The four women had designed the bar with the wood-on-wood feel of a lakeside cabin or a ski lodge. But the windows sucked the breath out of his body every time he took in the lake view. Damn, the crystal water with the stars reflecting onto the small waves was something out of a movie.
“Quiet tonight?” Bridget whispered as she glanced around, ignoring the view she’d probably seen too many times to look at his teammates.
The last two times she’d been here with the team had been celebrations. Not tonight. Ninety percent of the team lounged around with beers in their hands; nothing crazy, because although they pulled out the win, it wasn’t one to celebrate.
“I sucked,” Corey said flatly.
“Pity party, table of one,” Bridget answered, poking his rib.
Corey frowned.
He felt the heat of the stare before he turned. Taran’s mint-green eyes met his from across the bar. He glanced away. Just because he only looked for a blink of an eye didn’t mean he didn’t take her all in. Converses, cutoffs, and a hoodie announcing that if you say gullible real slow, it sounds like orange. Corey smirked and wondered how many of his teammates had walked around muttering orange tonight. But the smile faded because he hadn’t expected Taran to come. Corey had checked with Tillerson earlier, and he’d said he wasn’t going to the bar. In Corey’s mind, that meant that Taran wouldn’t either, but there she stood with Daily.
“We getting a drink or are we going to stand here like morons?” Bridget prompted.
Corey shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, pino?” he asked.
After her confirmation, he headed toward the bar, surprised to see who stood behind it.
“Shawn?” Corey asked.
The former LA Dodgers starting pitcher crossed his arms over his chest. His dark hair matched the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, and the glare said he wasn’t thrilled. Much like Marc Demoda, an injury had ended Shawn’s career long before it should have been over. But Corey hadn’t realized the former all-star pitcher was now here—bartending in Salt Lake.
“Saw the win.” There was something in Shawn’s voice Corey couldn’t place. When he’d played, he and Corey didn’t come into direct competition often, but they weren’t friends either.
“Yeah, wish today hadn’t happened,” Corey said.
Shawn’s jaw locked. “You might have thrown crap, but you got to be out there, playing ball. Don’t take that for granted, man.”
