“Come on, Olive, let me kiss you.”
My mouth full of cheese, I draw my head back. This is not going as planned. “What is going on, Tim?” He keeps leaning toward me, sloshing a bit of his drink on my suit jacket. “Crap.”
“Aw, shit, Olive. I’m sorry.” Tim moves to try to blot the wet spot on my jacket, but he’s drunk already and he just smears the liquid around.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s ok, but I’m going to find the restroom, all right?” Tim nods, pulling his hands through his hair and then straightening out his tie. “Why don’t you go hang with your teammates while I’m gone?”
I don’t look up to see if he joins the swim team. I need to find the bathroom before my borrowed clothes get ruined.
I see the sign for the restroom on the far end of the room, and I walk faster, my heels pounding out a staccato beat on the wooden dance floor. As I reach for the handle of the bathroom, I feel someone coming up behind me.
I sense him, and as I turn, he’s there. Baxter, his eyes dancing with concern and…something more. “Liv,” he breathes. “What’s wrong?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bax
Coming to this banquet was a total mistake. First, everyone tries to make a big damn deal that I’m here with Kevan, like that’s so fucking different than all the years I brought Olive as a friend. So far, coming here with a dude is way easier than bringing Olive. No temptation that I’ll do something I regret. No worries about getting her home safe.
I smiled with all the big money donors and promised to sign autographs after draft weekend. I was feeling all right.
But then Olive shows up looking like sex on heels. I didn’t even know she could look that way. Like…she looks fucking sexy and I don’t like a single thing about it. I don’t like Tim’s arm around her shoulders introducing her to smarmy donors. I don’t like Tim not looking at her like he wants to lick every inch of her, and I don’t like it when he smiles at her. There’s basically no way for Tim to come out of this alive.
What is wrong with me that I don’t want Olive to be happy? It’s actually not that I don’t want that for her. I just don’t think any of the assholes who have shown interest are good enough for her. Who even is this guy? Tim is frowning across the room at me like he wants to kill me.
Guess the feeling’s mutual.
Bottom line, I’m in Olive’s life, so anyone lucky enough to win her attention better be damn happy to get me in the package deal.
Kevan nudges me and I realize I’m totally tuning everyone out. A few alumni from SCU have ownership shares in different pro teams around the country and Kevan’s got me chatting with some big-shot from Detroit. Only I can’t even concentrate because the last time I stared over at Olive, she looked upset.
Kevan’s talking about today’s game—JT’s thumb is still fucked up so Kevan played the whole time—and he drapes an arm around my shoulders, talking about how many tackles I had in the second half. It’s true. I had a good fucking game. Olive was there the whole time, smiling. Supporting me. Everything clicked. As I slap Kevan on the back, I turn to look for Olive again, wanting to smile at her instead of just glower at her sexy pants. Only there’s nothing happy about what I see.
She looks like she’s about to cry and she’s hurrying across the room. “Excuse me, sir,” I say to the Detroit guy. “My friend seems upset.” I don’t wait to see what he says, just tear off after Olive. I’m pretty sure Kevan is following me, but I don’t care. All that matters right now is making sure Olive is ok. Then I can dismantle whoever gave her that frown.
I catch up to her just as she reaches for the bathroom door. I make contact with her arm and I know it’s going to be fine. I’m here with her now. “Liv,” I say, quietly, hoping to reassure her. “What’s wrong?”
But I don’t get to hear her answer. She shrieks as someone shoves me hard from behind. As I catch my balance, I whip around to see her date, looking glassy-eyed and sloppy. “Fuck you, asshole,” he says, like it’s the first time he’s strung that set of words together. “Fuck you!”
I raise a brow at him. Why the hell is he mad at me? “Fuck me? Fuck me?” I step into his space. He’s about the same height as me, but I’ve got 100 pounds on him, easy. “What in the actual hell is your problem?”
Tim reaches for my lapels and tries to shake me, his face red with fury. “He’s mine,” he says. This guy is making zero sense right now and frankly, I don’t even want to fight with him.
I check to make sure Olive is a safe distance away from this guy, and I look over to see she’s sort of backed up against the bathroom door. That’s when Tim draws his arm back to take a swing at me.
The guy wails, “He’s MINE” again as his wild punch glances off my shoulder and he winds up punching the wall, and then he crumples to the floor, writhing in pain.
Before I can make sense of any of this, Kevan curls over Tim, looking at him like—well, like I look at Olive. She’s standing at the end of the hall with her mouth hanging open. “Tim,” Kevan whispers, trying to soothe the swimmer. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
Tim just groans and tries to grab at his right arm, which looks funny inside his suit. He
