Chapter 23

twenty-three

MADDOX

"Miss me?" I ask Isla as I take my seat beside her. She's glowing when she turns my way. A vibrant smile lights her face and her eyes crinkle at the corners. I knew I could trust Wright to make her laugh while I did what I needed to do. I'll have to thank him later.

He's a good friend, and he's got a great heart. Part of me wishes he'd stop wasting it on all these meaningless flings, but Griffin will grow up when he wants to grow up. He got it in his head back in college that he's cursed. Every single one of his relationships ended by their six-month anniversary, and he's taken it as a sign that he's not meant for anything serious. Even though I know the guy is a closet romantic. It's ridiculous, but nothing Sebastian or I have ever said has changed his mind. For now, I'm just happy he and the other guys have accepted Isla so easily and look out for her without being asked. It's a relief for me, but I think it's an even bigger relief for her .

I'm not sure many people look out for Isla outside of her two best friends, who sit across the large circular table, both chatting up Ryder Hanson and some of our other rookie team members. It sure as hell doesn't seem like her ex or their other friends did.

"Oh," Isla says with a chuckle, "were you gone?"

Griffin barks out a laugh, which I ignore, choosing instead to lean in so close to Isla that our noses practically touch. "That hurt my feelings, Short-Stack."

"Aww, I'm sowwy." She scrunches her nose. "Do you need me to make it better?"

I nod. "Heck yeah, I do. You know how you can make it all better, Isla?"

"How?" Her eyes glitter with amusement, but there's heat there, too. It makes my cock hard, and I have to remind myself that popping a stiffy in a crowded room is not ideal.

"There's really only one way. You'll have to kiss it better." Her eyes widen and I grin. I tap my lips with my pointer finger, showing her where she can kiss me.

Isla licks her lips, her attention going to mine for a moment before meeting my gaze again. She wants to kiss me. I know she does. I also know she won't do it. Not in front of all these people. "You carry your feelings in your lips, huh?"

I chuckle and tug playfully at a strand of her hair that's fallen loose. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Pretty sure Griffin carries his in his dick," she retorts, hooking a thumb in Wright's direction. Of course, he hears her.

"I totally do," he pipes up. "It can be hard to contain all of my feelings. They always want to come gushing out. "

Isla's nose wrinkles again, this time in mock disgust. She turns her face to glance at my teammate, putting space between us. I instantly miss the heat of her. "Gross, Griffin."

"I thought it was funny," a brown-haired girl with huge boobs and fake lips says.

Griffin winks at me. "Thanks, Quinoa. I knew I could count on you."

"Did he just call that woman Quinoa?" I ask Isla, leaning in close so no one else can hear me.

"Yep." She pops the p sound at the end. "She's named after a grain and can put both legs behind her head while wearing a fox-tail butt plug. Clearly, that makes her Griffin's dream girl."

It takes a second for Isla's words to register because I'm lost in her beauty. She's so damned stunning when her face lights up with a huge smile and her eyes dance with mischief. But then my brain catches up. "I'm sorry, what ?"

"I'm not sure you want to know," she tells me. And I think she's probably right. Besides, if the woman has any special sexual talents, I'll no doubt hear about them with the rest of the guys when Griffin recounts them. She glances at her friends, smiling when she sees them happily flirting away with the rookies.

"Are you having fun?"

She nods. The movement causes one of the curls framing her face to fall out of place, and I don't even think before reaching out and brushing it gently behind her ear. "I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would," she tells me quietly as we stare at each other.

"Me too," I admit. "This would have been miserable if you weren't here. "

"Oh, I don't know." Her lips twitch up at the corner. "I'm sure you would have had just as much fun with your fan club."

She couldn't be more wrong. I hate the calculating touches and premeditated attention women like them give me. They don't care about who I am or what I have to say. I could spend twenty minutes going into graphic detail about the time I got a colonoscopy, and they'd titter and laugh like I was the funniest fucker on the planet. Maybe that does it for some guys, but not me. Especially not after everything with Candace and Georgia. Their affection was an act, just like everyone else's here would be—well, everyone except Isla—I was just too young and idealistic to see it, then. I'm not young and idealistic anymore. I'm a grizzled thirty-year-old with plenty of experience being used and betrayed.

What these women don't understand is that every flirtatious look and simpering word they throw my way makes my skin crawl. I don't want a woman who'll treat me like I can do no wrong. The thought of spending my life with a woman who'd rather placate me and ditch her passions in favor of becoming someone she thinks I want is abhorrent.

I was raised by a strong, fiery single mom who never took shit from anyone. After my dad left and she had to become everything to Mira and me, she embraced all the quirks that made her loud and powerful and unique. She became the woman she needed for herself. Not for anyone else. My sister is just as independent and confident, and they're my favorite women on the planet. They're who everyone else has to measure up to.

Which is why I'm so drawn to Isla. She called me on my shit in the first twenty minutes of knowing me, and she's not afraid to set her boundaries. Granted, I have a feeling quite a lot of those are in response to whatever her ex put her through, but I still love that she doesn't hesitate to enforce them. She's not impressed with my status or money. Isla's the kind of person who's impressed by actions, not a bank account balance. She's a woman I want to know better. And I don't doubt that if my mom and sister ever meet her, they'll want to know her better, too.

Isla chuckles, drawing me out of my thoughts and back to reality. She's stealing glances at a pair of middle-aged women a table over who are making bedroom eyes at me and doing some strangely sexual things to the straws in their drinks. They're beautiful, there's no doubt about that, but they don't hold a candle to the woman on my right. "See? Your fan club would have happily entertained you. I think they're pissed I've been monopolizing your attention tonight."

"You haven't been monopolizing anything. I'd give you all of my attention even if you didn't want it."

She chuckles, her cheeks going adorably pink, but doesn't respond as servers flood the room and place small salads in front of us. Soon, the quiet clinking of silverware fills the room and I almost don't hear her response. "What if I do want it?"

Oh, sweet, beautiful woman. She has no idea of the beast she's just unleashed. I'll still have to play this smart. Isla's been hurt, I know that much. So despite wanting nothing more than to drag her from this cursed, crowded dinner and into my bed, I won't. "Then get ready, beautiful, because you've got it."

Her pink cheeks make the blue of her eyes even more vibrant as she stares at me from beneath long, dark eyelashes. She wants this. She wants me. But beneath that captivating bravery and bravado, she's also scared. That's okay. I'm scared, too. It's been so long since I've felt this way about a woman, and I barely know her. She's just as likely to hurt me as I am to hurt her, though I doubt she'd believe that.

Neither of us says anything as we take each other's measure. Then her friends ask her a question, and the rest of dinner goes by in a flurry of laughter and conversation, but also stolen touches. My knee brushing hers, my fingers grazing hers, our shoulders touching as I lean over to ask her to pass the salt.

It's the most excruciatingly subtle foreplay I've ever engaged in, and I'm fighting to keep my dick from straining against my pants every moment of it.

"Excuse me, folks," Tracy, the woman who spoke before, says as we all nibble on our desserts. "It's the time you've been so anxiously awaiting. I'm going to read off the winners for the silent auction. We'll have a team of people available to answer any questions you may have at the end of the night, as well as to give you your items if you bid on a physical good."

"I hope I win the yoga retreat," Quinoa tells Griffin. "That resort has some amazing naked Bikram classes. It really opens your whole body." Griffin's eyes grow unfocused. He's probably picturing a room full of Quinoas doing downward dog completely in the nude. I shake my head.

Tracy reads off winner after winner, congratulating them and giving a little description of what they won. Isla fidgets in her seat next to me, clearly bored. It is a rather long list of people.

"Our next winner is none other than our very own Maddox Graves, who has donated a very generous amount to win the romantic hot air balloon ride date for two. So if you see a beautifully illuminated balloon floating over the city in the near future, it could be your fearless captain enjoying some romance with the person of his choosing." Tracy shoots me a wink. Every eye is on me now. Especially every female eye. But I only care about one of them.

"Ever been up in a hot air balloon?" I ask Isla.

She's got her lower lip pulled between her teeth again and she's staring at her dessert like it's about to reveal the secrets of the universe. "Uh, no, I haven't."

"Me neither," I reply, leaning in close to her. "I guess it'll be a first for both of us."

Those gorgeous sapphire eyes dart up to meet mine. "What?"

She's so damned adorable when she's flustered. And she is flustered. She doesn't know what to say or how to respond, but there's no hiding the excitement that flashes across her face alongside those other more unpleasant emotions. "I already spoke to the company that runs the dates. They can fit us in next week. Will you go with me? I promise to make it the best first date you've ever been on."

She loses the battle with the smile she's trying to suppress. "Maddox, we already had a first date."

"That doesn't count," I tell her. And I mean it. There's no way we're calling that our first date. "Think of that one like a preseason date. It's just practice. It doesn't count on our record."

This makes her laugh. It's such a beautiful, free sound. I want to earn that reaction as many times in a day as I can. "A preseason date?"

"Yeah. Just a warmup for the real thing." I grab her hand beneath the table and run my thumb over her delicate fingers. "Let me take you out on a real first date. Just you and me and a balloon pilot. Friday night before sunset." Despite knowing how much she wanted to go up in the balloon, I still hold my breath as I wait for her answer. Because she has to want to go up with me .

"Okay, yeah," she says, looking up at me through her lashes again. "Dinner before was only a practice test. It doesn't have to count toward our final grade."

God, she's cute. My cheeks hurt from smiling so widely. "Then it's a date. A real one, this time."

I don't hear any of the other winners they call out. I don't hear any of the chatter around us. Hell, every single person in the room fades away except for the stunning redhead beside me. She's willing to give me a second chance, and I won't blow it.

I'm going to romance the hell out of Isla Harding. And I'm going to make her mine.