Nate(4)

My door opened, and I handed my keys to the valet guy. “Miss.”

“Thanks.” I took the card he gave me and headed inside.

I went straight to the bar.





4





Nate





I was two bourbons in when she walked into the bar.

The world tipped over. That was what I was feeling, and I could only stare for a moment.

Total nerd reaction and I’d never been a nerd. Partier? Player? Asshole? For sure, but never a nerd.

I couldn’t think either.

I could only stare.

She was gorgeous. Long dark hair. Long ass legs. Tiny waist. Shit, she was slender, and she was walking like a gazelle. She was holding her hands in front of her, curled toward each other. Dark eyes. A mouth that I already knew I needed to taste.

The cutest nose, and I’d never been a guy who noticed a girl’s nose.

Breasts. Ass. Face.

Never a nose.

I was fixated on a nose.

“Are you listening to us?”

Right.

I blinked, coming back to the table. I’d been sitting, and a group of Thunder cheerleaders joined me.

“Uh… yes.”

The black-haired one laughed, leaning back in the booth next to me. She picked up her drink, swirling it around, and gave me a slow smile. “We know who you are.”

I frowned. “And who do you think I am?”

“You’re Blaise DeVroe’s brother-in-law.”

Jesus.

I knew this happened, but to hear it so blatantly was a whole other reality check. I was getting recognized for that little prick, that little prick whom I’d grown fond of even though we started our relationship when he was the definition of a little prick. I scowled. “Excuse me?”

“We were at a Falcon game when the jumbotron went to your box. Millie recognized you first.” She pointed across the table to the redhead, who blushed and ducked her head.

She said to the table, “I only recognized you because you’re Mason Kade’s best friend.”

Yes. All the famous folks I knew, who were not me.

“There’re, like, entire fan pages dedicated to you.” The redhead looked up, still shy, but I caught the eagerness underneath it.

I’d recognized that look before.

A woman who wanted a notch on her bed or was looking for a sugar daddy.

The other girl spoke up. “Besides, we know you’re rich.” Her eyes moved to the door, and she leaned forward with an alluring smile on her face. “You can have all three of us tonight if you want. We have no problem sharing.”

This wasn’t the first time I got that proposition, and before today, I hadn’t cared. I hadn’t minded.

Now I did, and my scowl deepened because I didn’t know why I cared. I wanted to fuck. That’d been the whole point of coming down here. See who was here, who was interested, take her to the hotel room, then send her home in a car after. A threesome should be getting my dick hard, but it wasn’t. With these women, I had a feeling a camera would be put somewhere in the room, and the video would get loaded to social media the next day. Look who we bagged? Or some shit like that as the headline.

I was getting a headache.

All three were watching me, expecting me to jump at it.

I wasn’t jumping and had no plans to. I was prepared to excuse myself when she walked in.

And these three women were forgotten.

“Ahem.”

That was her.

My whole body knew it was her before I looked. Especially my dick, which was now hard.

She was standing at our table, a shot in one hand and a drink in the other. She looked at me, her eyes all stormy, and she tossed back the shot before clearing her throat. “I need to speak to you.”

I was already getting up to go with her before she said those words.

My dick was leading the way.

The first girl spoke up, her hand touching my arm, “Get in line, sweetie.”

I brushed the cheerleader’s hand off at the same time the new girl tilted her head, total and complete sass coming from her. “I don’t think so, honey. I got business to talk to him about, and it ain’t none of your business.”

The “honey” woman turned to me, and she didn’t look happy to be vying for my attention. “I need to have a word with you about my sister.”

“Your sister?”

She turned and motioned with her head. “Come on. This isn’t going to be fun for either of us.”

My dick was saying otherwise, but I kept that to myself.

“Oh, come on.” One of my tablemates pouted.

The other touched my arm. “Come back. She doesn’t look all that friendly.”

That was why I liked her.

I shrugged them off, picking up my bourbon, and followed as she went to a far booth in the corner. Correction, she went to the far, far booth, and she slid in, all stiff and looking like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

I looked back.

A bartender was watching, so I motioned for two more drinks. He nodded, and I slid into the other side of the booth.

I waited for her to settle.

She never settled.





*



QUINCEY