The Silver Dollar was packed, but it always was on a Saturday. Since I had driven so slowly, our other friends were already there, standing in a tight group at the far corner of the bar top. Julie waved and shoved through the crowd to get to them, and I went more slowly. I kept my purse over my stomach, feeling protective about people bumping me there. And it was really loud in here, too. Could the baby hear that? Would it be bad for her little ears? She was so tiny.
I elbowed in next to everyone, wishing there was a chair so I could sit down because I was starting to get tired. God, it was nine o’clock, and I wanted to go to bed. I forced myself to rally.
“What do you want to drink?” Derrick asked me, leaning over and speaking directly into my ear.
“Gin and tonic,” I said automatically.
“Coming right up,” he said. Before he left, he leaned over again and kissed my cheek, nuzzling my neck. Julie must have told him I was a go for tonight—she had been whispering to him when I finally made it over to their spot. I pulled away and shook my head. Julie was already cuddled up to Pierre, and Sonia was draped on Carson, but I didn’t want to drape on anyone, and I didn’t want Derrick’s lips on me again.
“Oh, no way!” Sonia suddenly squealed. She let go of Carson and jumped up on the footrest of someone’s barstool to peer across the room. “Jules, look! We’re so lucky!”
“What?” I turned to look in that direction, too.
“There are Woodsmen players here!” Sonia shrieked. “That’s Gunnar Christensen, Darius Rieser, and Jory Morin. And César Hidalgo!” She bounced on her toes. “OMG, he’s gorgeous.”
What? I twisted around again, standing on my tiptoes, and the moment I did, my eyes locked on César’s. Had he followed me here? He didn’t seem at all surprised to see me.
The crowd parted as the four players walked through the bar. Right over to where we stood.
“Hey, Camdyn,” César said casually, as if this was not any kind of big deal. “How was your dinner?”
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, but he shook his head and pointed to his ear, not able to hear me. “What are you doing here?” I yelled instead. “How dare—”
“Come outside and talk to me for a minute.”
I shook my head hard, no. No way was I going anywhere with César, the guy apparently tracking my every move. What in the hell had I gotten myself into with him? I put my hand over my stomach again, slightly terrified.
“Go get a table,” he called to his friends, and the other Woodsmen nodded and walked off. “Cam, I just want to talk to you. Will you come sit with me instead?”
“There are no tables…” I started to say, then watched as the Silver Dollar waitstaff carried in four chairs and a table top, smushing regular patrons out of the way to set it all up. The other football players sat down.
César held up his finger. “One minute,” he mouthed to me. “Please?”
“Do you know them, Camdyn?” I heard Julie ask.
“Ok, one minute,” I told him, hoping I was doing the right thing. I had to be very, very careful in this situation. “Yeah, I know him. I’ll be right back,” I told my friends, and let César part the crowd for us to walk to the table.
“Camdyn, this is Darius, Gunnar, and Jory,” he introduced me loudly. All of them waved to me from their seats and Gunnar even stood up and held out his hand for me to shake. “You sit,” César directed, so I took the remaining chair.
“Why aren’t you with Arielle, your date?” I yelled so he could hear me, but that wasn’t what I should have said. “I mean, why in the hell did you follow me here?”
César bent down, squatting in front of me. He leaned close so I could hear him, speaking into my ear. “I didn’t, not really.” He put his hand back where he had held my arm before, when we had argued in the driveway. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this. Did I really hurt you? Did I hurt your arm?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to grab you hard, not at all.”
I sat away from him so I could look into his eyes. I had seen this before, a few times. Once they did something, they were sorry, but not enough to stop themselves from doing it again. This was how things escalated. “It’s ok,” I said noncommittally.
He frowned and leaned in again. “Seriously, Camdyn, did I hurt you? Please tell me.”
“No,” I answered begrudgingly. “But you shouldn’t have tried to keep me from leaving.”
“I wasn’t doing that. I wanted to talk to you and you were making me worried. I didn’t know…can you hear me if I stand up? This is killing me,” he grunted. He unfolded his long frame from the floor and towered over me. He said something else and I watched his lips moving as he spoke.
“What?” I yelled.
“I said I’m sorry! I could tell that I scared you!” he said louder, but even his deep voice didn’t carry very well. I stood up too so I could hear.
César sat down in the chair and guided me in between his legs. “Sit,” he told me. I found myself balancing on his hard thigh, trying not to touch him too much. “That’s better.” Now he was talking directly into my ear again. He reached and carefully pulled my hair to the side and leaned even closer. “Ok?”
“Fine,” I said. This was fine. More than fine, maybe. I kept telling myself to be wary of him, but I just didn’t seem to feel that way. I melted back against his chest.
“Did you hear me say that I was sorry?” he asked. His breath tickled my
