A waiter in a tartan kilt appears with plates of nachos and pitchers of beer, and the table erupts in laughter and stories, everyone reaching across each other to grab a bite. It’s chaos—but it’s the kind that feels like a big family. I sip my drink, trying not to look too closely at the longing that tugs somewhere deep inside me.
When I glance around for the restroom, I notice a cluster of women near the bar, their gazes trained on the players like sharks circling in slow, deliberate patterns. I can almost hear the collective calculation in their eyes.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, slipping away from the table. As I cross the room, I can feel their stares, the sharp edge of judgment slicing through me. If looks could kill, I’d be nothing but a chalk outline on the floor.
I glance back instinctively. Jaxon’s watching me, eyes following my every move, protective and unreadable. Behind him, Roman’s twirling Gabby around the floor, both of them laughing, and I can’t help but smile. Roman always seems to be dancing, moving through life like the music belongs to him.
The restroom is bright and echoing, filled with the sound of chatter and perfume. A few girls are crowded around the mirror, touching up their lipstick as they talk about players. I hear Jaxon’s name and their conversation cuts off when they spot me. The silence that follows feels too sharp to be coincidence. I look down, pretending not to notice, but the truth is, it’s strange to see Jaxon with anyone on his arm, especially someone like me.
Serious.
That’s what he called me.
Dammit, I’m tired of being serious…untouchable.
I want to be touched, and ever since he used that word earlier tonight, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.
I step into a stall, the whispered words…it’s her…following me in.
I understand the murmurs. Jaxon had shut himself off a while ago, no longer seen out with the women the tabloids call bunnies. I know the man has trust issues. Believe me, I know why he’d hardened himself. I was there when it all went down with Ember. But the man should be dating, should be out with the bunnies…should be living his life.
You’re one to talk, girlfriend.
I leave the stall, wash up, swipe a new layer of lipstick across my lips, and catch my reflection in the mirror. I look nothing like the women he used to have on his arm, nothing like Ember. No wonder everyone is talking.
The moment I step back into the pub, the sound hits me like a wave—music, laughter, clinking glasses. I barely make it two steps before a woman—one I recognize from moments ago in the bathroom—steps in front of me. I stop short, nearly bumping into her.
“Aren’t you Rowyn Perry?” she asks, her voice laced with something between curiosity and challenge.
My professional reflexes kicking in. “Yes, I am.”
A strange smile curls at her lips. “You came here with Jaxon?”
I glance over my shoulder. Jaxon’s still watching me, a storm brewing just behind those dark eyes. “I… uh… we go way back.”
“You two are friends then?” she presses, tilting her head, like that makes more sense than the two of us dating
“We are.”
“If he was dating again…” her gaze slides toward him, hungry and bold, “…I’d like to be all over that tonight.”
A sharp, unexpected heat flashes through me—jealousy, fierce and primal. “Uh, well… we are kind of dating.”
Her eyes rake over me, slow and assessing, before twisting into something like disbelief—like I’m not any kind of threat and she could walk out of here with Jaxon if she wanted too. “You’re kidding, right?”
Confidence in my work has never been my problem. But in moments like this, standing in front of a woman whose cleavage could get its own social media following, my personal confidence wavers. My throat tightens as I meet her gaze, and I work to steady myself.
“I’m not kidding,” I say quietly, the steel in my voice surprising even me.
She lets out a laugh, sharp and dismissive. “You hardly seem like his type.”
Before I can form a comeback, a familiar voice slides in close to my ear. “I thought you might’ve gotten lost.”
Jaxon.
His presence is a warmth that spreads instantly, wrapping around me. His chest brushes my back as his arm slips around my waist, drawing me against him.
“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” I manage, though my pulse is hammering so loud I can barely hear myself.