Then he leans down and meets my lips hungrily. A thrill washes over me. What am I doing? This is Jake, and I know he's just going to run back to the NFL the first chance he gets.
"Jake! What are you doing?"
We break the kiss, but I stay in the moment, lost in his eyes. And then the new Jake returns.
I turn around to see that his date has somehow caught up to us. Then I wonder how she got past the guards. Maybe this is the guards' way of getting back at us.
Either way, I realize that what just happened is probably a mistake. A giant one.
"What does it look like I was doing?" he shoots back. "I was helping her get her bracelet back."
"Was it down her throat?" Emma stands there with her hands on her hips and it's all I can do not to laugh.
"He's all yours," I say, walking past Jake to where Tristan has now appeared in the doorway. Thank goodness for that, it's perfect timing.
Tristan obviously got there in time to figure out what happened. He smiles and gives me a thumbs up.
"What the hell is he so happy about?" Jake asks, demanding to know why his date is mad and mine isn't.
Tristan and I just giggle on our way out. His grin is sincere as he holds a hand out for me. I take it and we make our way triumphantly down the stairs, with me wearing my bracelet.
"You got it back!" he says. He looks impressed.
"Damn right," I answer. "How's the ankle?"
"It'll be fine with some ice, a few pillows, and a good book."
"I like your style, Tristan. I like it a lot."
As I exit the party with Tristan on my arm, my swirling thoughts are all about Jake. Is it possible the Jake that I remember is still in there?
Chapter 21
Jake
As I drive her home, Emma gives me a look that can only be described as trying to make my head explode. I'm not going to lie, I've gotten this look from women before, lots of times.
It's awkward as hell, and she has a very good point. It wasn't cool of me to abandon her and run up the stairs and help the woman I fell for in high school. And then kiss her.
Hey, everybody makes mistakes, right? It could be worse, at least she's giving me the silent treatment. Falling back into my thoughts as I roll on into the night toward her apartment complex, I can't keep my thoughts from going back to Angie. Thinking about her seems as inevitable as the palm trees that I pass on the highway.
What was that tonight? Was it a moment? My cock chimes in that what happened between Angie and I in the monkey's lair of the Pirate Ball was, in fact, a moment.
My brain is still running to catch up when I stop the car to let Emma out. One door slam later, and I'm free and clear.
That is, until I get the text from my agent. I feel a zing of excitement. Did I get signed by another team already? Before I get a chance to read the text, I feel a wave of dread.
What if that was a moment between me and Angie? And what if I walk out of here again? Honestly, I never once felt this conflicted when I was in the league. It's easier to block out all distractions between travelling, working out, press briefings and partying. Thinking back, trying to block out my thoughts on Angie was probably one of the main roots of my issues.
Either way, I pull into a spot and then read the text. Bastard. The text doesn't give any details, it just says to meet him now at Jaws Café. Five seconds later, I'm peeling out of Emma's apartment complex.
Chad Lowe is my agent, and he's a good one. If I'm being honest, he's probably earned every cent of his contract. I've put him through a bunch of shit.
My car screeches to a halt next to his lime green Porche and I hop out. He waves at me from inside. Of course. He always grabs a table at the window so he can see everything that's going on. Agents are part confidante, part lawyer, part nosy neighbor, and part private investigator. And all business.
The chime of the front door is still ringing when I slide into the booth.
He's already ordered me coffee and is drinking his own. He looks at me and his lips curl into a smile. "Good, it looks like you're already sober, so we can skip the first step."
"Funny.”
He shakes his head at me. "You know damn well I'm not joking. Hey, I'm happy you're not rip roaring drunk or wasted. Makes this meeting that much faster."
I nod at him to get on with it. Apparently while I was wasted or drunk, the first part of our meetings usually ended up with Chad insulting me and I never knew it. "What's up?"
"The Eagles," he says.
I lean forward. "The Eagles want me to work out for them? Tell them I'm ready. In the best shape of my life. When do they want me on a plane?"
Chad doesn't look excited. It's not a good sign.
"The Eagles want to give you a closer look, they do. They need a backup tight end since their rookie tweaked an ankle. They're looking for just your kind of physicality."
"But?"
"But, the optics, Jake."
"Optics? I look great. Haven't you noticed I'm currently wearing a suit?"
"Cute," Chad says. "But you're on the right track here. Sober, in a suit. In fact, hold on a minute," he grabs his phone, holds it up to me, and snaps a picture.
"What are you doing?"
"Sending this to the Eagles. They're going to totally think I gave you a heads up on the meeting, gave you time to prepare, though."
"You never do that shit,"
