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“Can we grab a couple of those, Kendall?” Simon asked.
“Told ya if you stood around talking instead of blending you’d be stuck making these all night.” A brown-haired guy she was pretty sure was the shortstop Pete Saunders, smacked the woman making drinks on the butt.
Peyton glanced over at Simon. Was he going to introduce her?
Instead, he stepped up to the island and grabbed a tortilla chip from the bowl and dipped it into the salsa. Okay, apparently manners weren’t his strong suit. She stared at him.
Wow, he was like a different person when he was alone with her than he was in front of his teammates. The Simon she knew had pursued her hard. He’d been sweet and attentive. This ‘Andy’ as his teammates called him, was a bit of an arrogant jerk. She eyed him speculatively and wondered which one was the real man.
She stepped up to the counter. “Hi, sorry. Looks like Simon isn’t going to introduce us, so I’m Peyton.”
Simon glanced over at her. “Sorry, babe.” He placed his hand on her hip. “Peyton, this is Gonzo, Smitty, Zip, Kendall and—” He paused and turned to the man standing on the other side of Peyton. Wow, he was gorgeous and looked seriously pissed. She sucked in a breath as ice-blue eyes drilled into her.
Simon snorted beside her. “The guy glaring at us is Undertaker.”
“I told you not to fucking call me that,” glaring guy growled.
Apparently, there was no love lost between these two.
“Why not? It’s perfect.” Simon glanced around at the other men around the island. “Don’t you guys think it fits him perfectly?”
“Ah, not really, no,” Pete answered.
Gonzo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I think Ryan is good. No need for a nickname, really.”
“Ace works,” Smitty piped in.
“Come on, you guys, just because Ryan has no sense of humor doesn’t mean the name isn’t perfect,” Simon said as he picked up another tortilla and dipped it.
She turned to Simon. “Sorry, why would Undertaker be perfect?”
“Come on, babe, I thought you were a ball fan.”
She bristled at the mocking tone of his voice. She definitely was not a fan of Simon with the boys. “I am. I just have to agree with them that Undertaker sounds more like he’s a wrestler than a pitcher.”
“How’d you know I was the pitcher?” grumpy guy asked.
She glanced over at him and again was struck by his piercing blue eyes. Sheesh, she’d seen all these guys on TV when she watched the games and the interviews, but she hadn’t been prepared for them up close. The TV did not do Ryan Graves justice. “Like Simon said, I watch sports. It’s kind of a job requirement to understand the game.”
Ryan’s eyes ran down her body, and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. He wasn’t looking at her like she was a desirable woman, but like something he found on the bottom of his shoe. What the hell was that about?
“Yeah? What kind of job is that?” he mocked.
“Oh fuck,” Smitty mumbled.
Ryan’s stare whipped off her and over to Smitty. “What?”
“Incoming,” Smitty muttered and nodded toward the doors behind them.
“Fuck,” Simon groaned and took several steps away from her just as the sliding glass door opened and three women walked in.
“Surprise,” the curvy brunette called as she sashayed toward Simon and leaned in for a kiss when she reached him
Peyton felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. He had a girlfriend? What the heck? She looked over at Simon and the beautiful woman now wrapped around his side. He refused to make eye contact with her. Mother F’er. She shook her head as a sick feeling swept through her stomach.
“Hi everybody,” the woman called.
“Hey Carmella,” Ryan said from beside her.
