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I didn’t have to work on my story; it would be with the editor.
“Um… I…”
“We’re celebrating you finishing your book in Vegas. Leaving Friday morning.”
He was no longer asking. He was telling. I was a little stunned. Overwhelmed. But… happy. “Okay.”
He stared at me in surprise, as if he never expected me to give in. “Okay?”
I nodded. Oh my God. I was going to Las Vegas. With Dex!
He stood, carried me into the bedroom. “Now, about those fun and different things in bed. What are your thoughts on toys and my dick?”
40
DEX
* * *
“–and he did it without any pants!”
The entire table broke out in laughter. At my expense. I was used to the ribbing. Teammates always screwed around and took potshots at each other. We might be adults, but we behaved like children more often than not. Whatever. It was the way of being on a team, which was like being part of a huge, hockey stick-wielding family. Totally dysfunctional and had each others’ backs.
“You know what they say,” I began, and everyone looked to me. “You gotta let things air out.”
More laughter and a blush to Lindy’s pretty cheeks. I leaned toward her, cupped her nape and gave her long hair a gentle tug. Then a kiss.
The tournament finished three hours ago. The only thing hotter than playing golf in Vegas in July was Lindy in her pretty sundress. The organizers had ensured the players were well hydrated–water and alcohol–and after, a few of us ended up at a restaurant on the Strip, totally buzzed.
The place was well known and popular, tables hard to come by. Not for us. A perk behind being a celebrity sports figure was this kind of access. Steak was the specialty and they’d delivered perfectly grilled cuts of meat, but it was the drinks they ensured remained full.
Around the long rectangular table was me and Lindy. Max Johansson, a former Silvermine who now played for Nashville, and his wife. Torrey Amano, a Silvermine defenseman. Ethan Grimm, the only other hockey player at the tournament. He played for Miami. Somehow, Lamar Krepke, a football left tackle the size of a VW Bug got pulled into our group.
We were working our way through a third, or fourth, round of drinks. Maybe fifth. I wasn’t keeping track. No one was. I’d never seen Lindy drink anything but iced tea or water. Seltzer was fancy for her. But tonight, she was keeping up with the rest of us and it was fun to watch.
We’d arrived in Vegas the day before, but I was immediately pulled into another press gauntlet. Lindy had steered well clear of that and after, we’d decided to do room service and fuck instead of gambling. We stayed in the suite until a car was waiting for me to go to the tournament this morning. Golf was a hard sport to spectate–it wasn’t like there was an assigned seat in an arena–so I pampered her with a spa day while I played as a reward for finishing her book.
I wanted to read it, but I wasn’t going to push her. She’d share it. Eventually. It didn’t matter that she didn’t trust me with it. Okay, it did a little, but while I was balls to the wall for her, we’d only known each other two weeks.
Only a rogue squirrel kept her from leaving my bed. I had to be patient. She was here in Vegas with me and having fun. For now, that was enough.
“Air out? I can’t believe you said that!” Lindy whispered to me, although it wasn’t a whisper at all, then tipped back her vodka cranberry, the ice rattling around in the glass.
“Not sure why your balls need to air out,” Lamar added, as if the topic wasn’t a little intimate for a table in the middle of a busy restaurant. “But a lady’s got delicate parts and my four sisters all told me they need some air at night.”
Ethan piped up. “Why do you know so much about your sisters’ pussies?”
Lindy bit her lip to keep from smiling.
Lamar gave Ethan a scary look, but Ethan was his team’s enforcer and not intimidated, or he was too drunk to notice. “Growing up with four older sisters and I’m a pussy genius. I know all the things.”
“Yet you’re single,” Torrey pointed out. His name was short for Salvatore, so the guy was pure Italian. He had the tall, dark, ripped and handsome thing down. He was single too, but I knew he loved all women and wasn’t ready to settle down with just one.
“And you’re not?” Lamar countered.
Torrey winked. “They all love me. I can’t make any of them sad by picking just one. The strip clubs here are famous for the pretty ladies. Let’s go there next.”
Max Johannson and his wife glanced at each other. “The kids are staying with my parents this weekend. The only tits I’m looking at are my wife’s.” Max looked at Mia as if he wanted to bend her over the table or push her to her knees beneath it. Mia fiddled with the top button on her dress, totally teasing him, and Max popped to his feet. His chair slid across the floor in his haste. He grabbed his wallet, tossed a bunch of bills on the table. “We’re out.”
