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Miles motions me over, so I grab my drink and walk around the table to him and Chase, but they both stand from the couch at the same time.
“I know Banks set this whole thing up, but how long do I have to stay?” Miles asks.
“Why don’t you try relaxing, drink a few drinks, and have a good time?” I arch an eyebrow.
“This just isn’t my scene,” he bites out.
“Cavanaugh forgot to bring his book.” Chase hits Miles in the chest, and although Miles looks ready to tackle Chase, I can’t stifle my laugh.
Miles rolls his eyes at Chase. “You’re telling me you’re having a good time?”
Chase scoffs. “Hell no. What the hell am I gonna do with one of these chicks?”
“Make them cry,” Miles says.
Chase isn’t known for subtlety, and we’ve seen more than a few women in tears over the years.
“We all need to get to know Banks better. It’ll help us be a team on the field.” I raise my drink to my lips.
Chase rolls his eyes. “Fine. But if I have to stay here and listen to this shitty electronic music all night, then you owe me, Burrows.”
“Christ, I’m never getting out of here.” Miles pushes a hand through his dark curls and throws himself on the couch. My attention is drawn to him scowling at the dance floor.
I follow Miles’s line of vision. Brady is still leaning over the railing separating the VIP section from the dance floor, talking to a woman below. I can’t tell if I know her because his body is blocking my view. But I can perfectly make out the woman standing to the right of the woman and see why Miles acted like a toddler.
Shayna.
And Jesus, she puts every other woman here to shame. She’s curled her hair wavy and loose, falling just past her shoulders. Her black fitted dress leaves nothing to the imagination as it dips low enough to show off her cleavage. Her red lipstick makes my dick twitch. What those lips would feel like wrapped around my cock.
“What’s the story there?” Chase asks.
“Later,” I say.
“She went to college with us,” Miles informs him. “They have unfinished business.”
“I’ll gladly take her off your hands.” I scowl at Chase and he holds up his hands. “Hell, I’m kidding. I have rules. I don’t sleep with women I work with or women related to my friends. I like my love life to be clear and simple.”
“You probably make them sign NDAs.” Miles’s eyebrows rise.
There have been rumors, but no one has the guts to ask Chase. When Miles gets pissy, he gets ballsy like he wants a fight.
“Do I look like the type?” Chase asks.
Miles and I both appraise him.
“Yeah,” we say in unison, and he shakes his head, taking a drink.
Brady is talking to the bouncer, and soon enough, Shayna and who I now see is that reporter from theChronicle, Bryce, are coming up into the VIP section. My heart races and a sweat—not from how fucking hot it is in here—beads along my forehead.
I approach Shayna, but she glides right past me and sits on the couch. “How are things, Miles?”
Miles is shocked, stumbling on an answer, and Chase soaks in the scene with amusement, laughing his ass off.
Fucker.
Six
Shayna
