21. Renee

Two margaritas later, my sides hurt from laughing and my head is swimming from alcohol overconsumption. Which is why it takes me a second to realize that the man standing framed in the bathroom doorway looking at me is Weston Scott.

We lock eyes and it’s like something crackles to life immediately. Like touching an electric fence.

Then he scowls and stomps away, back to where the rest of the team is huddled in a corner booth.

“I should go over and say something, right? I mean he looked… at my… underwear.” It’s taking me a while to form complete sentences.

Michelle shakes her head and holds up her hand in the universal motion for STOP. “No. No. No. Bad idea. Talking to Weston sober is a task. Doing it drunk is suicidal.”

“I’m more the homicide type.”

“Oh, that would be bad, too. He scores a lot of goals. And you’re pretty. You’d be the jail lollipop.”

Danni drops her cheek to her hand and looks at Orion. “I want to be his lollipop,” she murmurs.

“I could set that up,” I offer. “Me and Orion are friends. I’d do it discreetly. Pinky promise.” I try offering her my pinky, realize it’s actually my ring finger, then try again. It takes a few more attempts to get it right.

I may or may not be intoxicated.

A shadow falls onto our table and I look up—way, way up—to see Weston glowering at me. “You need to go home.”

“Are you p-perpositioning me?” I bungled that one a little bit, but I think he got the gist. I look at Michelle and, in a stage whisper with my hand in front of my mouth so Weston can’t hear me, I hiss, “He thinks I’m stalking him.” I look up at him and close one eye so that there’s only one of him instead of six. “But I’m not. I was here first.”

“At the bar where the team drinks after games.” His voice is a dry, unamused drawl.

Michelle shakes her head and looks at me. “Maybe if we ignore him, he’ll go away.” She pushes another shot toward me. “Bottom’s up.”

Before I can grab the glass, Weston’s meaty, giant hand swoops in and takes it away from me. “She’s had enough.”

I can’t really argue since I’m seeing everything in twos. “Hey, Mr. Judgy Judgerson. You can’t tell me not to drink.”

Just to prove my point, I snatch Danni’s shot and drink it.

I probably shouldn’t have done that. We’ll find out in a couple minutes just how bad I fucked up.

When I look up at him, his eyes are burning coals. I should be unaffected by that broody smolder. I really, really wish I was.

And you know what? I am unaffected, I’ve decided. Well, I would be, if the circumstances were different. It’s not Weston that’s having an effect on me. It’s not him that’s making my pulse pound and my skin sweat and my panties damp. It’s just the booze talking.

Not him. Just the booze.

The booze is also the only reason that the thought He’s smoking fucking hot keeps flashing in my head like a billboard. Apparently, drunk me doesn’t hate Weston as much as sober me does.

“I’m taking you home,” he announces.

“I’m not getting into a car with you.” Even when drunk, I have a sense of self-preservation. However slight it may be.

Danni looks at me. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Unless she’s talking about the way Weston’s waistline narrows and his jeans fit, I can safely say I didn’t see what she’s talking about.

“Orion just smiled at me.”

I look to where she’s pointing. A trio of Orions are standing at the end of the bar. I can’t tell if he’s looking at her, so I close one eye to investigate further. He laughs and waves.

I lean over to Danni. “You should go talk to him.”

“Should I? How do I look?” She fluffs her hair with her hands. “Am I good?”

Michelle and I nod and she slides out past Weston, who moves to let her by him. Then he sits on the booth bench beside me.

“Time to go, P.” His voice is gruff as he curls his fingers into my arm like he’s going to tug me out of the booth.

“No. I can’t leave my—” I motion to Michelle, but when I look over, she’s no longer in her spot. She’s at the bar now with Jonah Martingale and Danni is with Orion.

And I’m all alone with the one man I swore I’d avoid.

“Shit. Well, I should check to make sure they’re okay.” I start to scoot as if I’m going to slide out of the booth, but he doesn’t move, so all I accomplish is moving closer to him.

And, dear diary, he smells delicious.

“They’ll be fine.” He finally steps out and holds his hand out to help me to my feet.

“I should still check. Y’know—girl code.”

He sighs, nods, and steadies me when I lurch upright and list to the left. His arm around my waist guides me to where Orion is shaking his head at me and Danni is eyeing him like he’s about to be dessert.

“You good?” I ask her. “I don’t want to go if you…”

Danni smiles and waves me away. “You go on. I’m fine.”

“I’ll get her home. You have my word.” Orion smiles and leans in to whisper, “Thought you hated him.”

I scoff dramatically. “I do. I really do, but he smells good.”

He shakes his head as I turn, almost fall, get steadied again by Weston’s gloriously large hands, then walk to Michelle.

I tap her shoulder. She turns and throws her arms around me. “I’ve got an Uber coming. You send me a text when you get home.” She looks up at Weston. “If anything happens to her, or she doesn’t text me tonight and call me tomorrow, cops will be knocking at your door by noon. Got it, playboy?”

He growls something in the affirmative, then hooks his arm around my waist. “Come on, Princess. Bedtime.”

He propels me around toward the door and we walk out into the night. Maybe because I can barely stand—and I sure as hell can’t walk straight—he keeps his arm around me all the way down the sidewalk to his car. I don’t mind as much as I ought to.

He opens the door and I flop into the passenger seat. He leans in and straps the seatbelt around me. I get a big whiff of him and sigh. Loudly.

But he’s already backed off and closed me inside of a car that looks a bit more like a spaceship. There are switches and knobs and buttons and lights that illuminate the door panels.

“Is this your car?” I know it’s a dumb question as soon as I say it, but it’s out there. No takesies backsies.

He chuckles as he slides behind the wheel. “Nope. I’m an alien, crash landed on Planet Earth.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

That is the last thing I say, because just then, he brings the engine roaring to life and floors it so hard that I have to clamp my lips shut so I don’t launch the nachos I shared with Danni all over the inside of his space shuttle.

Fortunately, the ride isn’t long. We’re at Sutton’s apartment before anything horrible happens.

Correction: before anything horrible happens so far.

But knowing Weston, that won’t last much longer.