Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(24)

He throws his head back and laughs, eyes gleaming. His face is handsome—a nice nose, although it looks as if it’s been broken once, a slight imperfection. Two small black hoops are in his ears. A silver eyebrow stud winks at me under the strobe lights, accentuating the straight lines of his dark brows. Toss in the neon-blue leather jacket he’s carrying over his arm, and he’s . . . interesting.

“Tell me where you got that shirt.”

His lips twitch. “You are amusing. And I haven’t peaked. Still climbing.” He rubs his shirt. “You like it, huh?”

I nod.

“Wanna touch it, babe?”

I roll my eyes. What is it about me these past two nights that I’ve caught the attention of two very different yet hot guys? Must be the leather pants tonight. They scream Looking for a good time.

But what was it about me with Jack? Because he saw me in my work clothes . . .

I turn back to the bar. “Don’t babe me. Or pretty girl either.”

“Then tell me your name.”

“No.”

He chuckles. “Just the first name. We can get to last names later.”

And by later, he means . . . yeah, right. Not doing that again.

I nudge my head at a brunette across the bar from me. “Try her. She’s more your speed; plus she’s looking at you like you’re a king-size Snickers.”

He shrugs. “Nah. You caught my eye. Once I saw you, everyone else just disappeared. I mean, I’m not a photographer, but I can picture us together.”

I laugh. “That is a terrible pickup line, but points for perseverance.”

“I can’t stop myself; they just roll off my tongue. And usually those lines work. Usually all I do is say my name, and girls fall at my feet. Sorry.” He grins, not looking apologetic at all.

“Not interested. All I want to do is hang out here for a while, then head home to Romeo.”

“Romeo? You got a guy?”

“Pet pig.”

He laughs and plays with his beer bottle. “Would it help my case if I said you have the ultimate privilege of speaking to the best wide receiver in the countr—”

“What?” I start, my glass nearly slipping from my hands.

His lips turn up in a slow grin. “Ah, you like football. I play for the Tigers here in Nashville. You’re welcome.” He takes a bow.

I shake my head, the wheels spinning. “I don’t know anything about football.” I throw a quick glance around the dark club, scanning it for Jack, my heart leaping in my chest. Don’t football players travel in packs like wolves? I don’t know why I think that, but . . .

He orders another beer from the bartender and takes a long swig. “But you’ve heard of me, right?”

“No.”

He gapes at me. “This is a travesty. A true crime.”

“Mmm.” Still no sign of Jack as I scan the club, but there are so many nooks and crannies and dark places I might be missing him.

“Are you here alone?” I ask.

He smirks. “Actually, no. It’s also my birthday—how serendipitous is that—and a few of my friends and teammates took over the VIP room.”

He said serendipitous. I soften. I do love big words.

“Really? A VIP room. Huh.” I’d love to see Jack again. Maybe toss my water in his face. Maybe have a good old-fashioned southern hissy fit.

Devon nods. “I just popped out to hit the men’s room and saw you over here slinging back drinks—”

“Water.”

“Okay, water. And just thought you might want to join our party, but I can see that you’re not interested . . .” He scans the barstools, disappointment on his face.

“Is it cooler in the VIP room? It’s hot out here.”

He looks back at me, eyebrow arching. “Yeah. Wouldn’t it be nice to get out of this crush of people and have a conversation?” His gaze sweeps over me again, lingering on my cleavage.

I tug my shirt up. “And by conversation, you mean . . .”

He laughs. “Conversation can lead to whatever you like. There are a few private rooms in the VIP section where we can go—”

I lean over and thump him on the forehead. “Stop that.”

“Ouch!” he says, rubbing the place I hit. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you’re too smooth and flirty. How on earth will you ever meet a nice girl if all you do is throw off these ‘Let’s get naked’ vibes?” I pause. “But because I happen to love your shirt, I’ll cut you some slack. I wouldn’t mind getting away from the loud music. Is there food?”

Is there a Jack Hawke?

His eyes light up. “Hell yeah. And birthday cake. You aren’t going to thump me again, are you?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Lead the way to the VIP room. Let’s do this.” I slam my empty water glass down on the bar. I don’t know where my nerve comes from right now, but if Jack is in the VIP room, it might be a chance for me to . . .

I don’t know.

But I want to see him.

“Follow me, babe. You’ll love everyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

He guides me to an area roped off with red velvet cords to the left of the club, near the back. I didn’t even notice it when I walked in before—or the bouncer who’s guarding the entrance.