“Al—”
“No, hold on,” she interrupts, eyes narrowed to slits. “If it’s okay for the both of you to get yourhappyon and your. . . your. . .appendagesstroked—” she spits, waving agitatedly in the general direction of our dicks while glaring at us, “then why can’t a woman want the same thing without being branded with a derogatory label?”
She’ssomad. I don’t think I’ve ever found her more beautiful than now, when she’s putting me and Novak in place without using a single curse word. Goddamn, she’s going to ruin me, and I can’t even blame her. Iwantthis.
Placing my hand at the low of her back, I turn her into my embrace gently. “Shh, breathe in, baby,” I whisper, when her body remains rigid under my touch. “I’m sorry. I won’t say that again.”
I stroke her along the length of her spine, the knot in my chest loosening when she gradually leans into me. I gesture with a nod of my head to Novak whose mouth is hanging open.
“Theo!” I snap, making him jump. He rubs his neck, chagrined when Alia turns to face him once again.
“We’re man-whores,” he admits glumly.
“And?” I prod.
He scratches his scalp like he’s a five-year-old trying to make sense of why he’s just been scolded. “I’m sorry, too?”
Alia sighs. “All I’m asking is that you don’t judge me—us—for making choices you’ve made as well.”
“Fine. So, you two are really not dating?” Theo questions.
Alia shakes her head but my gaze locks with my friends’, an unknown dialogue passing between us that has him straightening with an imperceptible nod of acceptance. Now, Theodore Novak may be a goof. He may be annoying as fuck and play the fool. But he shows up for the people he cares about.
“I’ll get Moore to come to my room and text you,” he mutters, moving into problem-solving mode. “Al, you need to leave when I send Spuddy the text. Can’t take the risk of you two running into each other in the lobby.”
“What will you tell him?” I ask.
“That I need my balls massaged,” he snarks, throwing his hands up in the air like a disgruntled Italian grandmother. “I don’t know, fuck, I’ll make something up!”
“Didn’t need that image in my head,” Alia murmurs, looking disturbed. I pat her back soothingly. Novak is a lot to take on a normal day. But pissy Novak is a whole new level of drama.
“I’m going to go pack my toiletries,” she says, turning to me. “Please call me a taxi for the airport.”
“Done. Waiting for you downstairs.” The grateful smile she sends me makes me want to puff my chest up. I say my goodbyes easily, only because I know I’ll be following her home in a couple days.
By the time the team boards the plane, I’ve avoided multiple questions about my absence while letting people believe I crashed on a sofa in the guest lounge somewhere. The looks of sympathy thrown my way are as equally amusing as the team ribbing Novak for making me homeless.
Theo dumps himself into the seat next to me, grumbling under his breath about how I owe him. I’ll never admit it, but I do.
We’re well enroute to Toronto when he clears his throat loudly. Repeatedly. One of the perks of being chartered everywhere is having the comfort of a quieter flying experience. Novak’s barely concealed grin tells me I’m not getting that today.
“So. Moore’s cousin.”
I startle, throwing a glance around us to make sure no one heard.
“Don’t worry, he’s way in the back,” Theo assures me, dropping his voice for my benefit. “Seriously. Alia?” he asks again.
I can’t keep the goofy smile off my face.
“It was nice knowing you alive,” he scoffs. “You couldn’t find anyone else?”
“I could.”
“Then?”
“None of them made me feel like this.”
He nods, as if he gets it. Novak is the biggest playboy in our division, if not the entire Western Conference. I’m not sure what he thinks he understands but I am glad he’s stopped questioning me.