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“She’s a menace,” I corrected. “That mouth on her should be registered as a weapon.”
“Hopefully, in a good way,” Hickey said, waggling his brows.
“Don’t be a dick,” I chided before taking a drink of my beer.
“How about we make friends with chicks that actually like us?” Claude suggested. “I mean, if you’re into women with their grip on your balls, then you do you, Knight.” I flipped him off again. “I prefer a softer hand myself.”
“Is that why you always got lotion on your hands?” Hickey joked.
“Fuck you, dude,” he chuckled back.
Remembering why I was here in the first place, I turned my attention back to the television, but it was hard to concentrate when all I wanted to do was continue talking to the she-devil throwing out expletives at any Spartan player making a play. She was even berating the refs, and not one person was side-eying her, making me wonder if she was a regular here or something. Maybe she was related to the owners, which would make sense of why no one was concerned with her colorful language.
Before I could think on it more, a tall guy walked into the bar, and I could actually feel my stomach roll a bit when he walked up to my nemesis’ table like he had every right to. I stared as she grinned up at him, and I hated how she looked genuinely thrilled to see him. I hated it even more as he took a seat, stealing her beer and making her laugh.
Holy fuck.
That laugh.
“That sucks.” I turned to look at Claude. “Looks like she’s taken.”
“Yeah, that’s not a blind date,” Hickey added. “They’re too familiar.”
“It’s not like that,” I lied just as the new guy’s voice hit my ears.
“You’re so fucking lucky that I love you the way that I do,” he told the brunette. “Watching you watch football is my own personal nightmare come to life, I hope you know.”
“I know,” she replied cheekily. “And your sacrifice is duly noted and appreciated.”
“And you drink shit beer,” he tacked on. “At least order the good shit.”
“That’s for fancy chicks,” she replied. “I’m not fancy.”
“Don’t I know it,” he grumbled, and my head turned of its own volition to see him flagging the waitress down.
“It’s not worth it,” Hickey said, dragging my attention back his way. “You don’t need to get suspended for acting a fool off the court, Knight.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” I automatically denied.
“Yeah, right,” Claude snorted. “So, you were just growling for the hell of it?”
“I wasn’t growling.”
Was I?
“Let’s just watch the game,” Hickey said. “Then we can get friendly with the trio across the room.”
I didn’t want to get friendly with any of the other women that were here. I wanted the jerk next to me to quit talking shit about the Spartans, Raven in particular. I wanted her to switch loyalties, and even if she was a die-hard Hawks fan, she could still like the Hawks and not hate the Spartans. After all, they weren’t in the same division, so I didn’t see the problem.
I also wanted to know why the fuck she had a boyfriend.
Chapter 8
Sinclair~
Ibelieved in the significance of energy. I believed that a person could change the vibe in the room by just walking into it. I believed that you could feel another person’s energy lick down your spine while you weren’t looking. I also believed that I wasn’t imagining the change in Orion Knight’s demeanor after Harley had sat down, berating me about my taste in beer.
Was he still mad because I was talking shit about Raven King?
