Until I saw those copper eyes. Lashes long as they seemed to blink in slow motion. My heart stopped. Everything I’d planned went up in a puff of smoke just like that.
CHAPTER 39
WREN
Eric stops in front of my barstool, with interested fans on both sides of us watching and listening but trying not to be obvious about it.
We don’t see them.
His lips part, then close again.
Wren, you’re the first woman my son has ever loved, did you know that…
I swallow hard and try to see him through her eyes. Does he? This isn’t the expression of a man who cares about me because of a stupid bet.
He looks as scared as I feel.
“You were wonderful out there,” I whisper, clearing my throat to add a louder, “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he chokes, then clears his, coughing and blinking away, then back to my face. “You’re wearing blush. That for me?” My fingers fly to my cheeks as they enflame. A hint of a smile dashes across his confused features, making him all the more handsome. “Now it’s darker,” he teases. I laugh and fiddle with the empty glass in my hand. This makes him look at it and ask, “What was in there?”
“Courage.” It’s an old joke, but it fits. I can’t beat myself up for lack of originality—my mind is racing to remember the English language…any of it. I can barely breathe with him this close, much less be witty.
There are so many unanswered questions between us.
His eyebrows twitch and he calls out, “Two more liquid courage!”
“You got it,” Mike grins, excited that we’re still talking. “Hang on, your beer can wait, pal.”
The drunk guy objects, “Hey!” but he’s ignored, and can’t do anything about it.
“Here ya go, Cocker, great fuckin’ game, man. We’re closer to the gold!”
Out of habit I pick up the bucket glasses and hand Eric his, noting that he didn’t acknowledge Mike, maybe didn’t even hear him. Instead he asks, “Can we talk outside a sec?” Then frowns as he remembers, “Shit, it’s ice-cold out.”
“There’s always the bathroom,” I offer.
His eyes sparkle as he nods and throws it in that direction. “For old times sake.”
“Wait!” I raise my glass. He follows suit. We down the enormous shots, me wincing more than he does. “Okay,” I gasp.
His palm extends and I stare at it, sliding my fingers over the rough callouses that beat the Saints tonight, the ones I never thought would warm my skin again.
In silence he leads the way, and people clear a path. I steal glances, aware that we’re the focus of everyone’s curiosity. But I never expected this much hope shining from their eyes.
All except Bethany’s.
From within the group of watchful Falcon’s she stares, the only one who doesn’t look happy for us. And it occurs to me for the first time that she might just be a jealous bitch.
Eric appeals to the waiting women, “Ladies, you mind?” Tonight, and probably any other, they’d grant his every wish. Thankfully we don’t have to stand out here waiting this time. The door opens instantly and Eric smiles at the girl exiting. I get a I-hope-you-guys-make-it-work smile from her as she passes me.
Was the public aware that we’d split?
I suppose his telling the news my name tipped the hat that something had happened between us, to anyone and everyone—people pay attention. Maybe those games where the Falcons hung on by a thread, winning by a shallow margin in two, might have got the tongues wagging. Pair that with the fact that I quit working here after two years, out of the blue.
People aren’t stupid.
They must have connected the dots.
Eric locks the door while I do the same.
Struggling, he says, “Wren, did you block me?”
“Yes.”
Pained, he demands, “Why?”
“I was told you took a bet for a thousand dollars that you couldn’t sleep with me.”
His eyes fly open in horror, then rage. “Who told you that?!”
“Did you bet it?”
“No!” His hands drag through his hair as he paces the small space. “I would never do that. There was talk of a bet. Tony thought he had me in, but I was being sarcastic. You know like,” He mimics himself badly, “Yeah, sure. And he took that as a yes when what I really meant was never-in-a-million-years!” Eric smacks the concrete wall, then does it again. “Fuck!” And again. “I can’t believe that got back to you after what Peter did!” And once more. “You must have thought I was the biggest piece of shit!”
Wrapping myself around his back I calm him down, my voice soothing as I grab his wrist. “Stop it, it’s over. Please stop. You’ll hurt your hand.”
His arms wrap around mine and we both close our eyes. Touching each other again feels so good. He flips around and clutches me to him, thick with emotion. “Wren, I’m so sorry. I never took that bet. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I know,” I choke, burrowing into his body. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt!”
Tearing free of the desperate embrace, he gently touches my cheeks, rough-skinned palms on either side as he searches my eyes, his dark and tortured. “How could you have? After what you thought of me before, when I was trying to get in your pants when you had a boyfriend, then after what he did to you? You probably thought all men were animals.”
I admit, “I did.”
His forehead is furrowed with the wish that the misunderstanding had never happened. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you so much, Eric. I watched every game!”
He groans, rolling his eyes. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Yeah, you were pretty awful.”
A grin flashes but disappears quickly as his eyes clear. I hold my breath, knowing he’s about to kiss me. He comes in closer, brushes his lips oh-so-lightly against mine, then presses harder. I moan in happiness, wanting to stay here forever as our kiss becomes urgent, bodies tensing.
“We’re happy you guys are working things
