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“Maybe.”
“Bartender!” he shouts out, his arm raised to flag him down.
“No, stop. I don’t need to be plied with anything.”
Conversation isn’t exactly easy to have in the club, but the funny nonsense we keep saying into each other’s ear is enough to make me realize what a great guy he is. Sweet. Funny. Sexy as sin. It also makes me realize he has potential. Like, real potential for me to actually like him. Something that doesn’t happen often.
It’s the very thing I am pondering when Abbie’s voice calls out my name as though it’s some sort of reprimand. I immediately wince at the sound.
“Hey, Abs,” I say with a weak smile. “This is Carter.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
The fact of the matter is, being with Carter, in any capacity, isn’t a good idea. For him. For me. For my career. No matter how much I might like the guy, I’ve only just met him, which is not worth me throwing away my dreams for.
Smiling at Carter, I excuse me and my rude friend, then drag her off to the bathroom.
“Please explain to me what that was all about?” She’s standing in front of me, hands on her hips. Abbie may not be a sports connoisseur, but everyone knows who Carter Wallace is and what team he plays for—my dad’s.
“He asked me to dance. That was it. Innocent. I swear.”
“The way he was looking at you, Lex, was anything but innocent.”
“We were just having fun.”
“Another couple minutes and that fun would be horizontal.”
Pressing my lips together, I stifle the smile that the thought of him inside me, me riding him until we both explode with passion, brings me.
“Lexie…”
“It was just a dance… and a drink of water.” I sigh. “The guy is… he’s hurting. He’s lonely. He just needs a friend.”
Dark hair and sad blue eyes tugged on every damn heartstring. While I can only imagine what he’s been going through these past few months since the accident, I know for certain it hasn’t been easy, and it’s taking a toll on him.
Wouldn’t I be doing my father a disservice to leave his player in such a condition?
“Listen, I could give two shits what you do, you know that, but you’re the one who wants to work for the Knights. If you start fucking one of your dad’s players, you think he’s going to hire you?”
“You said yourself, he’s never going to hire me, anyway.”
“And I fully believe that, but you don’t. You still want to try. You want to work for the Knights and with you dad. Anything that happens between you and Carter is going to mess that up.”
“What if I heal his arm? What if I put him on that new program I’ve been studying, and he can come back before the season ends? My dad would have to hire me then, right?”
“Or he might kill Carter, and all your work would be for naught.”
The Masterson last name is synonymous with football. My grandfather coached. My father is coaching. The minute any man who knows anything about football hears my last name, they run. Not just because they’re scared of the intimidating coach, but because they’ve heard the warning given to every player in the league—stay away from my daughter.
Cliché bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.
“It’s not fair. Either way I go I stand the chance to lose.”
“You’re right, it’s not fair. Not the fact he won’t hire you. Not the fact if you date one of his players, he’ll lose his shit. But, Lex, come on. You know he will. Even if you wanted to put it all on the line, what about Carter? He doesn’t deserve that. Unless, of course, you tell him who you are, and he makes that decision knowingly.”
“I tried.”
“Then either try harder or walk away.”
