Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(2)

I expect him to sulk in the corner, or maybe sit down at the table where a couple of the other younger guys are enjoying a beer. Instead, he continues right on past everyone and out the doors, into the night air.

Ana looks visibly shaken beside me. I should say something, maybe offer some comfort, but small talk and emotions aren’t exactly my forte.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” she says, but I’m not sure she’s telling the truth. Her full lips are turned down into a frown, and her hands are shaking.

I release a slow exhale and nod. I’m definitely getting too old for this shit. Since when did I become the dad of the team?

Ana mirrors my slow breath, but hers is more a shuddering exhale.

The fiancée of one of my best players puts her arm around Ana and guides her away. Good thing too, because I have absolutely no clue what’s the right thing to say when someone’s upset, which Ana obviously is.

Fuck.

“You guys good?” I ask when our goalie, Owen, and his pregnant wife, Becca, pass by.

They both nod, and Owen’s hand moves protectively to her barely there belly.

After catching up with a couple of my teammates and talking with our coach, I spot Ana heading toward the side exit, a door I know leads to the hallway toward the kitchen. I know because I just came from there after hunting for the antacid.

“Here, have this.” I hand my glass to Jordie. It’s a warm, half-finished beer that I’ve been working on all night.

“Oh, you’re so generous.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s me, baby. Charitable.” I smirk.

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” I mutter as I walk away.

Following Ana, I push open the door to the hall, but then stop short when I find her. She’s slumped down against the wall, butt on the floor, knees up, arms folded around them, and her cheeks wet. When she spots me, she quickly wipes away her tears with the back of her hands.

Ana sits up a little straighter, and I clear my throat.

“Hey,” I say, looking down at her small frame leaning against the wall. “You doing okay?”

Ana looks up, meeting my eyes. “I never should have come here,” she murmurs, inhaling deeply.

Here to this party, or here to Seattle with her dickhead of a boyfriend? I’m not sure. Hell, maybe it’s both.

I pull the handkerchief from my jacket pocket and offer it to her. “Please,” I say when she hesitates. I never knew why suit jackets included those pocket squares, but maybe it’s for this.

Finally, Ana accepts my offer, which is a relief because I have no idea what I’m doing. She dabs at her cheeks and eyes with the white cloth, and I think she’s being demure until she brings it to her nose and blows—loudly. I smile, liking the fact she seems comfortable around me while I’m feeling anxious as fuck. Seriously, I don’t do this shit.

“Thanks, Grant.”

“It’s all good.” I wasn’t even sure she knew my name, but I guess it makes sense that she does since I’m the team captain.

She’s pretty, with those full lips and inquisitive brown eyes, and her cheeks have a rosy, youthful glow. Wisps of golden hair have escaped her low ponytail, framing her face, and her chest shudders with a huge, halting inhale.

God, she’s so small. And she’s shivering, I realize. Her slim shoulders are bare in the black spaghetti-strap dress she’s wearing.

“Here,” I say, shrugging out of my suit jacket, and bend down to wrap it around her slight frame.

“Thanks.” Ana smiles up at me weakly.

Shifting my weight, I shove one hand in my pocket. Say something, dude. “Are you going to be all right?”

Okay, so it’s not the most brilliant phrase I’ve ever uttered, but at least she’s nodding.

“Yeah,” she says, still looking up at me. “Jason gets in these moods sometimes, but he’s mostly harmless.” She stops herself and gives her head a little shake. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” None of this is her fault. “Do you need a ride home?” I run one hand along the back of my neck, unsure of what I even want her answer to be.

She meets my eyes, seeming to weigh whatever it is she sees there. Seeming to determine if she can trust me.

Jesus. How did I get roped into this?

If I’d just minded my own damn business, none of this would have happened. It’s really my beer’s fault. If my beer hadn’t been warm, I wouldn’t have needed to refill it, and if I wouldn’t have needed to refill it, I wouldn’t have seen her rush off crying.

Crying females are my one weakness. Maybe it’s because that’s the only memory I have of my birth mother, before I was adopted by my parents. I remember sitting in her lap while her shoulders shook and tears fell in heavy drops from her eyes. To this day, I can’t stand to see a woman cry.

“I can just get a ride, or call a car, or something. I promise, I’m not helpless.” She wipes her nose one more time with my handkerchief, tucks it into her purse, and then rises to her feet. Once she’s standing, she doesn’t even clear my chin.

“I never said you were,” I find myself saying, my gaze locked on hers. “But the offer still stands, and I’d prefer to know you got home safely.”

Pulling in a big breath, Ana nods. “A ride would be great, actually.”