The Trade(21)

I know better than to get tangled up with a married woman, and I don’t plan on making any advances on her because that’s not the man I am, but hell, I just wanted to talk to her for a few breaths more.

Is that too much to ask?

Yes . . . she’s fucking married, you moron.

We both take a seat at an empty table, just like at the fundraiser and this time, I keep a good distance between us, so I don’t feel tempted.

She looks a little uneasy, maybe because I just guided her by her back and practically forced her to sit and talk to me. I reek of desperation, and I’m pretty sure by the way some of the guys are smirking at me, they can smell it from where they stand, huddled by the bar.

Trying to lighten the awkward tension between us, I say, “If only we had cupcakes.”

She smiles slightly at that. “Funny story, those cupcakes were donated. They knew what a prestigious event it was going to be and the names attending, so they donated a lot of cupcakes in hopes to impress people like you.”

“It worked.” I chuckle. “Were you eating cupcakes for weeks after?”

“Enough for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I tried to donate them to the shelter but because they weren’t wrapped, they wouldn’t take them. If Jason has love handles, you know why.”

“Damn,” I say, taking a sip of my beer. “Where was my phone call? I would have loved to have helped take some of those down.”

“Oh, I mentioned your name, but Jason staked claim on all cupcakes, threatened to pee on them if I took them away.”

Chuckling softly, beer halfway to my mouth, I say, “Your brother is really fucking weird.”

“Yeah. He is.” Looking around the event, she says, “Okay, be honest, who are the good guys on this team, and who are the ones I should look out for?” To seduce? I quickly glance at her ring finger, and like last time, it’s bare. And she wants to know which guys to . . .

“Look out for?”

“You know.” She kisses her knuckles comically and says, “The ones who I might have to introduce to my fist if they give Jason any problems.”

I can’t help it.

I snort.

Really fucking loud.

Looking mock offended, she brings her hand to her chest and says, “Why, Cory Potter, do you not think I can take down any man in this room?”

I glance at her tiny fist, her wafer-thin wrist, her delicately manicured fingernails, and shake my head. “I want to make you think you can, but I only believe that will get you into trouble.” It’s cute how tough she’s trying to be, really fucking adorable. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I give her a quick once-over and then shake my head. “I know you’ll probably say something like you’re scrappy and quick, but you’re talking about a roomful of Rebels; these guys take cheap shots.”

She groans and leans back in her chair. “Ugh, you’re right. Now the Storm, I could totally take them out.”

“Easily.” I chuckle. “They like to pretend they’re tough, but they’re the first ones to balk at a fight.”

“Aren’t they the team with the least amount of fights?”

I nod. “Yeah, it was nice, not having to worry about charging the field, or a team charging us. Completely opposite here.”

She glances away for a second and then asks, “Do you miss Baltimore?”

Not really wanting anyone to hear me, I lean forward so I’m a little closer. At least, that’s the reason I tell myself as I breathe in her scent deeply and catch the small gold flecks scattered over her irises.

“Yeah,” I answer honestly. “I built a life around the Storm and the community. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting the trade and when there were rumors of a possible trade, I brushed them off. I didn’t think the Storm would ever trade me, but I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that was like.”

“Not great.” I awkwardly chuckle. “But I am happy to be back in Chicago. As you said, it’s good to be close to my family, especially now that Milly is married. I want to be around when she starts having kids.”

“Are they going to try soon?” Natalie clasps her hands together, excited.

“You know”—I scratch the side of my jaw—“I haven’t really asked her about her ovulation and sex schedule. Maybe I’ll text her later tonight.”

Natalie pauses for a second and tilts her head. “What kind of brother are you, that you don’t know your sister’s menstrual cycle?”

Grinning, I answer, “Apparently a shitty one.”

“You know, Cory, if you’re not cycling with her, you’re not caring enough.” She jabs her finger on the table. “Meriods are real. Cycle up, sis. Milly will appreciate it.”

“Are you . . . telling me to menstruate?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m not telling you to do anything, you’re a grown man, you make your own decisions. I’m merely suggesting another way to bond with your sister.”

“Very considerate.” I laugh.

We both take a sip of our drinks and almost as if she can’t believe it, she leans in even closer, looks to the side and then back at me. “Did I . . . did I just tell you to start menstruating?”