Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(43)

The woman next to me nudges me. “You’re the new ‘it’ girl for Jason, right?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Cowboy told me about you.” A redhead wearing a floral western shirt, who I guess to be in her thirties, she says, “I’m Sheila. Cowboy’s wife.”

“Oh, hi,” I say. “Yes. I met him earlier.”

“He told me. I was kind of blown away that Jason actually brought a woman with him. He never has guests who aren’t his parents.”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” I say.

She turns to look at me. “That’s why Cowboy and I were so intrigued.” She blinks. “Things between the two of you must be pretty hot and heavy if you’re here, but he’s let on to no one.”

“Because I’m just another groupie,” I joke.

She laughs. “That is so not true. But you know, I’m kind of loving this idea. Maybe now he’ll be distracted enough to screw up once in a while.” She snorts, adding a mumbled, “We can all only hope,” before facing forward again.

My brow furrows in disbelief, and then I have the worst thought. Maybe fear of distraction is exactly why Jason’s stayed single. And while I worry that’s what I am right now, the fact that Sheila rejoiced in that idea really bothers me, and I don’t like it one little bit.

I look toward Jason to find him staring at me, giving me a questioning look. Distracted, just as Sheila had hoped. Focus, I mouth vehemently. He laughs and returns his attention to the table. Fifteen minutes later, he’s won this cycle and I can breathe again.

“Looks like both our men won,” Sheila comments as the buzzer goes off, moving away from the railing, as does pretty much everyone.

Since Jason is quickly striding toward me, looking rushed, I stay put. In moments he’s in front of me, his hands next to mine on the divider wall. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” I say, smiling. “You won.”

That sexy mouth of his curves. “Yes, baby. I won.” He sobers quickly. “What did Sheila say to you?”

“Like everyone else, she wants to know who I am to you.”

“And you said?”

“A groupie.”

He chuckles. “That’s one way to answer, but you know they won’t believe that.”

“Because you never bring a woman to these events.”

“No,” he says, his voice softening, his eyes warming. “I don’t bring women to these events.”

“Please tell me that my being here isn’t a distraction that will make you lose.”

His brow furrows, and he laughs. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Sheila said she hopes that whoever I am to you, I distract you enough to make you lose.”

“She did, did she?”

“She did, which frankly pissed me off, and I’m really glad you won.”

He leans around me, scans the bleachers, and calls out, “Sheila! That fantasy you had of me losing? In your dreams, honey.”

“Every king must fall, Red Bull,” she shouts back.

“Like I said,” he repeats. “In your dreams.” His attention returns to me. “Ignore her and anyone else trying to plant nonsense in your head. I would have warned you, but I wanted you to get the real picture.”

“The real picture?”

“Of who I am.”

“I won’t get that from them, Jason. I can only get that from you, which is why I’m asking them no questions.”

“None?”

“None. I’d rather ask you my questions.”

“What questions?”

“Nothing appropriate for here.”

“Try me.”

“Why do you need control?”

“That’s better answered naked,” he says, his voice now lower, rougher. “And you’ll have to decide if that’s where you want to go with me.”

“It is,” I say, nerves fluttering in my belly, but I’m not backing away from this or him. Not this weekend, and not with this man.

“Good answer, baby,” he approves. “Right now, I have to go film a segment that went wrong, but be cautious with Mandy. She’s Ricky D’s sister and manager. She’s known to play dirty and he’s on one of his notorious losing streaks, which always brings out the worst in her.”

“His manager,” I say. “That’s interesting.” I open my mouth to tell him about Daniel, but his name is called over the intercom.

“Gotta run, baby,” he says. “I’ll have more time after the next cycle.” He backs up and shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Groupie.”

We both laugh and he walks away. I linger at the barrier, watching him depart, admiring the casual way he carries himself that somehow still manages to have an effortlessly commanding presence. As if he doesn’t have to demand that control he values, as other men I’ve known have. He simply embodies it. I’m about to turn away when Daniel suddenly appears on the floor, obviously with some sort of special pass, and most certainly about to butcher me, which doesn’t bother me. Jason is his own man and decision maker, but he has a game to play, and Daniel’s a real ass for doing this right now, when Jason has a tournament to win.