Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(44)

Inhaling, I turn away to find an empty chair that sandwiches me between Sheila and Mandy. While part of me sees them as piranhas nipping at Jason’s heels, better avoided, I take his lead and go full frontal, charging forward and sitting down. I won’t let them think they got to me, and thus to him.

“Big mouth,” Sheila snaps almost instantly, her tone sharp, but when I glance her way, she laughs and gives me a cat-who-ate-the-canary look before adding, “You proved my point. You’re no groupie. You worried about his play and told him so, too.”

“That doesn’t make me more than a groupie,” I argue, and while I don’t want to be considered an actual groupie, calling myself a weekend gal feels a little too real for comfort. Instead, I declare what I think might have potential to be true. “I’m a friend. And friends look out for friends.”

“Friend,” she repeats. “Well, yes. I guess you are a friend, then.” She laughs and I grind my teeth, turning away to watch Mandy stand up and hug some blond, muscular man in jeans, with two full-arm tattoo sleeves peeking from his T-shirt.

“Skye, this is Davie,” she says. “My boyfriend and one of the TV show producers.” To Davie, she explains, “She’s with Jason.”

He arches a brow. “Really? That’s different.”

“So I hear,” I murmur. This is getting kind of old.

“Well, I love the guy,” Davie says. “He’s great for ratings. The women love him and the men want to be him.” He glances at Mandy. “Not that your brother isn’t.”

I can’t see Mandy’s face, but the next thing I know, they’re moving away, and I’m left with Sheila, who decides to be friendly. “They often get pulled in to film between cycles,” she says. “But about halfway into the event, they’ll have a little freedom at the breaks. They need to unwind, and the show wants them to win and be at that final table.” She then goes on to share all kinds of details about the game, the show, and various players, and I start to wonder if she’s really as bad as I first thought. Jason did joke around with her. I’m probably just not used to this world.

Thirty minutes later Sheila and I are back at the wall, cheering for our chosen players. Mandy hasn’t returned, which doesn’t break my heart, but her brother, Cowboy, and Jason have now won their tables, and all three head toward the bleachers in an obvious break from filming. Jason motions me toward a walkway and I’m not sure what to expect, but he slides his arm around my shoulder again and focuses on me and no one else.

“I need to walk and stretch my legs,” he says, the scent of him—all spice and man—assailing my senses. “You want that Starbucks you never got?” he asks, moving us toward the door.

“How do you know that, if you were focused on your game?”

“I can walk and chew gum at the same time,” he assures me. “I saw you were getting chummy with Sheila.”

“I’m not chummy with anyone,” I say. “She was just there. Is she a problem?”

“Not a problem,” he says. “She and Cowboy are just ridiculously competitive in an in-your-face kind of way.”

“But aren’t you competitive?”

“I compete with the cards and myself,” he says. “It’s part of what makes me good at this. I focus on what helps me win.”

We exit to the hallway, where people are milling about, and he grabs a waitress. “Starbucks,” he says to the woman. “And there’s a good tip in it for you.” He looks at me and I give my order, leaning on the wall. “We’ll be right here,” he tells her, and the minute she’s gone, his shoulder settles on the wall next to me and I face him.

“Let’s talk about Daniel,” he says. “I know he’s being difficult tonight. His methods are flawed at times, but he’s just trying to protect me.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you? Because I know he’s coming at you about being here, and I’m sure you know that he’s coming at me about you.”

“I get it, Jason. He’s an *, but he cares about you. He’d be a bigger * if he wasn’t concerned, considering the circumstances.”

He studies me several long beats. “His concerns are not mine. I make my own decisions.”

“I understand,” I assure him, “and I’ll let you earn * status on your own merits. That said, him coming in here tonight and trashing me to you while you’re trying to play makes me feel like I shouldn’t be here.”

“My game is not affected by Daniel. Ever.”

“What about me? Do I affect your play?”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, but everyone keeps making such a big deal out of me being here. If you don’t bring guests because it’s a distraction—”

“I brought you because I want you here.”

“You brought me to earn my trust, and Jason, I’m going to help you. I don’t have to stay at the tournament to do that.”

“I brought you because I want you here,” he repeats. “I have no way of convincing you it’s not about that damn storage unit at this point. But I want you here, Skye.”

“You barely know me.”