Chapter 11

eleven

MADDOX

"Dude. My balls are killing me."

I pinch the bridge of my nose as Griffin plops his ass into the passenger seat of my noir Maserati Levante. I bought the SUV because I end up being the designated driver so often that it didn't make sense to buy a hot little sports car. Plus, this is Minnesota, and the winters are brutal. Still, I love this thing, and they know if they puke in it, they're paying to get it detailed inside and out. "Why the hell are your balls hurting?"

Griffin shifts in the passenger seat, adjusting himself before clicking the seatbelt in. "My waxing lady was in a bad mood today, man. She really went hard on the boys."

Jesus. "Then stop getting your nuts waxed."

Griff shoots me a look that tells me he thinks I've lost it. "I can't ask the ladies to suck the boys if they're all furry." His eyes go all dreamy. "And I love when they just pop ‘em all the way into their wet little mouths. "

"Sorry I asked." And boy, am I sorry.

"You should go with me sometime," he says. He's way too excited about the idea. "It could be team bonding. Just a bunch of bros getting their short and curlies ripped out."

My balls shrivel up into my body at the mere thought. I roll my eyes as I head toward Navarro's place. Logan's already there, so we can head straight to the bar. "Have you already started drinking?"

Wright looks confused. "No. Why?"

"No reason," I say, shaking my head. He spends the next five minutes trying to convince me that smooth balls are the key to happiness. I've never been more grateful for Bash and Logan than I am when they climb into the backseat. We're all ready to blow off some steam after an intense week of weight training and conditioning, and Logan suggested a bar none of us have ever been to. Personally, I'd be happy sticking to our normal haunt. The beer is always cold and the women are always hot.

But I suppose it could be fun to try somewhere new.

I hand my keys to the valet with a warning to be careful with my car, and we head inside. It's a cool space, and it has a hell of a lot more character and ambiance than Chasers. This place has black walls with textured damask wallpaper, a huge bar that spans the whole left side of the room, and giant cages hanging from the ceiling where scantily-clad men and women dance.

We head to the bar, where we all order a pint of beer on tap. I'll nurse mine most of the night, but these three? They'll finish the first drink in less than five minutes, which is why we settle in against the bar while scanning the place for an empty table. It's crowded and loud, and when we don't see any open tables, Logan flags down a harried-looking waitress and turns on the charm. She tells him she'll have a booth ready for us within ten minutes.

My eyes wander to a woman in a bikini who writhes and shakes inside the nearest cage. The other guys scan the crowd, looking for women to take home with them. This isn't a sports bar, so there won't be puck bunnies on the prowl for a Rogues player, but that won't stop any of us. We're all dressed in game-day suits, and we're getting plenty of appreciative glances.

"Ho-ly shit," Griffin says beside me. He grabs my wrist and squeezes while bouncing on his toes. "Is that who I think it is?"

"What?"

"Check it out, guys. Is that Madds's TILF?"

Brow raised, I turn to Griffin. "TILF?"

"Yeah, man. Teacher I'd like to fuck." He points, and we all turn our attention to a table close to the bar where a very familiar redhead sits beside a blond guy who's all in her space. She hasn't noticed me or the attention of my teammates, so I'm able to take her in freely. She looks just as beautiful as she did on our date. And even more uncomfortable.

"That's her, right?" Griffin's way too excited about this. I shoot Sebastian a look, asking for backup, which he returns with a nod. He won't let Wright do anything stupid.

"Yeah, that's her."

Griff gives a little whoop . "You going to go over there and talk to her? This is your chance, man."

Sure, my chance to be shot down in front of my boys. " Nah, it looks like she's on a date." An uncomfortable date, but still. Who am I to interrupt her?

Sebastian narrows his eyes while he watches them. "It looks like she's trying to get out of a date." He's not wrong. We all quiet down while we watch her, straining to hear any snippet of their conversation over the din of the bar. It's a shitty thing to do, but I've established that I'm a shitty guy when it comes to Isla Harding.

"So," the blond asshole says, drawing out the word as he leans into Isla's space. Space she tries to maintain by leaning away from him. "Teaching can't possibly pay enough to let you afford places like this. But if you find the right man, that's not something you'd have to worry about." He runs his finger down her arm, and Isla visibly shudders. "I make a lot of money with my company. Enough to buy the right woman anything she wants."

Logan grunts beside me. "What an absolute dick."

I agree. And you know it's true when Byrne's the one to say it. Not that he's purposefully a jerk to the women he sees, but he's not exactly warm and fuzzy. More like charming enough to get what he wants. And usually, that's a singular night in bed, then no contact. Though, to his credit, he's always upfront about that when he meets a woman. This tool sitting beside Isla? He's just a jerk with no game.

I recognize the fire that ignites in Isla's piercing blue eyes because I'd earned that same ire on our date last week. Sebastian's hand on my arm makes me realize I've taken an unconscious step toward her. I want to tell this blond prick to fuck off. That money isn't everything, especially to someone like Isla. Someone who cares about other people .

Man, I really read her wrong on our date. How could I ever have thought she was some gold-digging jersey chaser?

"Excuse me?" she spits, wrenching her arm away when he tries to run his fingers down it a second time. "What the hell kind of woman do you take me for?"

The guy's face flushes when curious patrons turn to watch them. I can see him trying to figure out how this went so wrong so quickly. "I just meant that you deserve the best things in life, that's all. You aren't a woman who should have to deny herself what she wants."

He brushes a strand of hair away from her face, using it as an opportunity to drag his knuckles along her collarbone, and way too close to her cleavage. The hand settles at the base of her neck, his thumb resting on her collarbone. "Maybe you just need a man who's happy to provide you with the finer things in life." That fucking thumb of his traces slow circles along her skin, and she's completely tense and visibly uncomfortable.

That's it. I can't watch this anymore. I turn to Navarro, looking at the hand he's still holding me back with. "I'm going in."

"Just don't kick his ass," he commands. "We're not at Chasers."

"Yeah," Griff nods. "We'll drag him outside and kick his ass there. I don't like the way he's treating your TILF."

I shoot him a warning glare. "Stop calling her that."

He grins widely. "You liiiike her. Gravesy's hot for teacher."

"Shut up." I don't bother waiting for his response, already crossing the room toward an increasingly flustered Isla. She's too busy trying to fend off her date's wandering hands to notice my approach. So when I say her name and step up beside her, her eyes go wide. "Isla? Hey, babe, I was just thinking about you."

"M-Maddox?" She stands, seizing her opportunity to get this creep's hands off of her. "Oh my god, I didn't expect to see you here." She fidgets, unsure how to greet me, so I open my arms, inviting her in for a hug with a look that conveys I'm here to save her if she wants it. She only hesitates for a fraction of a second, and then she moves away from her chair and into my arms. It forces blondie to scoot his chair back. He scowls as he watches her press into my chest.

Fuck, she feels good in my arms.

"Hey, beautiful," I murmur against her hair. My voice grows quieter as I whisper, "You look like you could use an assist."

"I'm so happy to see you," she replies. And I think she means it. It does something funny to my chest.

"You look stunning tonight," I tell her. It's what I should have said the moment she walked up to my table at Rêveur. "But then, you always do, don't you?" There, hopefully, she understands.

The pretty pink blush that steals over her cheeks has me hardening. "Thank you." She eyes my royal blue suit and pink tie appreciatively. "You look pretty handsome yourself." She runs a finger along the lapel. "I like this color on you."

Damn, I like hearing that more than I should. Especially since this is an act. I give her the full weight of my attention for a few more seconds before turning to the blond idiot fuming in the chair to my right. My left arm remains wrapped around her waist .

"Hey, man. Maddox Graves, nice to meet you."

His eyes go wide as the name registers, and he gives me a second look. "Maddox Graves? Center for the Minnesota Rogues?"

"Guilty," I reply with a grin.

Blondie stands, taking my hand. He tries to squeeze the hell out of it in some misguided attempt to assert his dominance, but knocks that shit off when I give him a squeeze of my own. He winces. I smile.

"Blake Carter," he says. "CEO of GoTravel. You've probably heard of me."

Je-sus, this guy. "Can't say I have." Isla's body shakes slightly against me, and a glance shows me she's trying desperately not to laugh. Good ‘ole Blakey notices, though, and his face twists with anger. Yikes. Glad I interrupted this date, because I've seen that expression on men's faces before, and it never says anything good about them.

"Right." He smooths a hand through his hair. "Well, it was nice meeting you. If you'll excuse us, you've interrupted our date."

I don't miss the way Isla stiffens at my side. She does not like that. I can see her brow furrowing out of the corner of my eye as she tries to come up with an excuse to leave. That won't be necessary. I'll get rid of the asshole and provide the target for his anger. I turn to her with big puppy dog eyes. "I thought when we went out last week we decided not to see other people?" I brush a loose curl away from her face, dragging my fingertips across her forehead and down her cheek. Her breath catches and her eyelids flutter closed for the briefest of moments, and I'm gone. Either Isla Harding is a phenomenal actress, or she's attracted to me too .

"We did," she says, playing along. Her slender fingers grip my lapel as she looks up at me with those big, blue eyes. "This was supposed to be a girl's night. I'm sorry, babe. Please don't be mad."

Blakey-poo splutters some offended-sounding nonsense. He reaches for Isla's wrist, wrapping his hand around it as he demands her attention. "Jess never said you were in a relationship."

A rumble forms in my chest at the same time Navarro, Wright, and Byrne create a wall of muscle behind the pathetic piece of shit pressing his soon-to-be-broken fingers into Isla's wrist. "Get your fuckin' hand off of her. Right. Now."

The man must have a death wish because he doesn't. He glares at Isla, then me. "You'd rather be with some dumb jock than a business owner on Fortune's 40 Under 40 list? I'm going places, Isla. Any woman would be lucky to come along for the ride."

"You're still touching her," Griffin growls behind Blake-the-dead-man. All traces of the goofy man-whore persona Wright wears outside of the rink replaced with the deadly focus of the Rogues' left wing.

Blake finally senses the threat he's facing and drops Isla's wrist. She rubs it with a scowl. He hurt her. He hurt her.

"Maddox isn't a dumb jock," she says vehemently. "And this isn't a date. I don't know you, and I don't want to."

His skin pales before flaring red with fury. "Bitch."

"What did you say?" Byrne steps up close enough to bump Blake's back. We're drawing a lot of attention, and the last thing we need is for someone to take a video and plaster it all over social media. Plus, Isla's shaking like a leaf against my chest, and I just want to get her away from this piece of shit.

"Get out," I growl. "Now."

Blake looks like he wants to argue, but a glance at the three angry men at his back makes him change his mind. It's the first smart decision he's made tonight. The little rat scurries out of the bar. There's probably piss running down his leg from the looks my boys are giving him. As soon as he's gone, Isla lets out a shaky breath, takes a step back, and looks up at me.

"Thank you. I was supposed to meet my friends here tonight, but they were both running late, and they felt bad about the idea of me being here alone, but they had important work stuff to finish so I lied and told them I hadn't arrived yet so they wouldn't feel guilty. Then that asshole showed up and somehow knew way too much shit about me like where I work because apparently he saw a photo of me and Jess on her desk at work, and I was trying to find a way to get rid of him, but he was setting my creep-alarm off big time, and I was worried he'd try to follow me home." She's rambling, the words flying out of her mouth so fast I can barely make sense of them. "I just wanted a fun girls' night out with a few drinks and some laughs, and now here I am, shaking like an idiot because some guy got aggressive with me. And I'll go home and worry all night, and I probably won't sleep, and every little sound outside is going to make me wonder if blob-dick-Ken is lurking outside of my windows, and?—"

"Blob-dick-Ken?" Griff asks with a burst of laughter.

Isla's cheeks pinken, and she chews on her bottom lip. " Oh, uh, it's kinda what I was calling him in my head. Because he was boring and conceited and nondescript and he probably has a weird, tiny dick."

Griffin slaps his thigh. "Oh, god, that's great." He turns to me. "I like her. Let's tell the waitress we'll need room for one more at our table."

Isla looks between Griff and me. She's back on the defensive, and even though the end of our dinner date was pleasant, I'm sure she's recalling my initial behavior. "What?"

Griffin Wright can be a pain in my ass and a giant child sometimes, but he's got the right idea tonight. I look down at Isla with a smile. "Why don't you join us? We were just going to hang out, drink some beers, order some food. We're not girls, but it sounds like we had similar plans for the night. Then once you're ready to go, I'll drive you home and the guys and I will check the place over to make sure that asshole isn't lurking somewhere if you're worried he may know where you live. How about that?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't."

"Sure you can," I say. "Do you have other plans?" I want her to agree. She's clearly shaken by the whole exchange with that guy, and I don't want her to be alone. Selfishly, I'd also love a chance to prove I'm not actually an asshole, and I doubt I'll get another opportunity.

She chews her bottom lip some more, and I can't help myself. I reach over and tug it free with my thumb. Her breath catches, but I see the moment she decides to agree. She glances at the guys again before looking up at me. "You sure you don't mind? I don't want to intrude."

That doubt tingeing her voice is my fault. I put it there when I acted like spending time with her was a chore or a burden. And I'm going to fix it. "Mind? Hell, you'd be doing me a favor. Adding some beauty to a table of giant beasts." I motion toward the guys. "Don't leave me alone with them."

The slightest smile twitches on her lips. I've got her.

"Okay, yeah. If you're sure. That would be fun."