Page 89 of Wicked Player

“Shit. That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“Seriously, Gage. There are some fucking perverted women out there. You should hear—“

“No.” God no. That was the last thing I needed to hear. “What’s my damage? What’s it looking like?”

“Been on the phone with the hospital. They’re not pleased, obviously. But right now, it’s a lot of speculation. So you’re kissing a woman in public? Who cares you know? And fortunately on the photos, there’s no sign you’re really outside a sex club. So… you know, like I said, could be worse.”

“Who’s picked it up?”

“Every gossip blog on the planet but legitimate news stories seem to be steering clear for now.” He sighed in the phone. “That could change, Gage. And if more photos are shown. Right now it’s you kissing a reporter and no proof at the mention of the sex club. We can handle this. But the hospital is pissed and I don’t know what that’ll mean for the opening or your role. And for the woman? She’s a reporter making out with the guy she’s been following for weeks. That doesn’t look good and that’s where it’s bad for her.”

“Fuck.” I scrubbed a hand down my face and blinked. There was movement at the window. A curtain fluttered. Moments later, another one moved. I had to get out of the SUV before I really did get picked up for stalking. “Keep me posted?”

“Obviously. But if I’m calling, it’s important to answer your damn phone.”

“I will. Later.”

I ended the call and jumped out of my SUV. I was halfway to the front door when it opened. Expecting Elizabeth to step onto the porch of the small two-story home that looked like every home on the street, with pretty little lawns probably courtesy of strict HOA rules, I stopped when a man stepped out.

“You must be Blake,” I said.

“You must be the asshole who’s totally fucked over my sister and killed her dream.”

I hadn’t done shit to his sister except fuck her, but I wasn’t arguing with the guy. He looked like he ate nails for breakfast and I might have been a big guy, but I kept my pounding to the football field. With pads. And rules.

Blake looked like bar brawls were his favorite pastime.

“I came to talk to her.”

He crossed his massive biceps over his chest. I might have been intimidated by him, but honestly, I didn’t give a shit. This was Elizabeth’s and my’s problem to deal with and we had to do it on our own. If she didn’t want anything to do with me after I possibly ruined her chance at her dream like Blake implied, it was still her job to tell me.

“Who says she wants to talk to you?”

“Maybe she doesn’t.” I stepped toward him until I was a step below him. For a brief moment, his asshole glare dissipated. Like he just realized who he was in front of and I’d timed my visit on a day where he was wearing a blue shirt with the Rough Riders logo on his chest. The man was a fan. But still a big brother. “But I wouldn’t be the guy I was if I didn’t track her down to try to work this out face to face and see where she’s at, what she’s dealing with. I care about her, Blake. And I’ve already got people working on fixing it, including Jaxon.”

“You got gonads of steel if you called him.”

Gross description of my balls aside, I gave him that. “And I’d like to keep them, which is why I called. He’s already called his office to figure out who sent the emails. But Elizabeth right now is my priority. So you can stand there and play her bodyguard, but I’ll give you five seconds to decide if you want me to force my way in, or let me do what I need to do.”

“You’re tough,” he replied. Still glaring. Then he grinned. “And if you don’t take my team to the Super Bowl this year, I’ll kick your ass.”

Damn fans. I chuckled despite the tense and fucked up day. “I’ll see what I can do. That I can promise.”

“All right. She’s in the living room, pissed I made her stay there while I told her I was coming out here to kick your ass. She’ll be happy to see I didn’t follow through.” He stepped back and toward the door.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll let you get one punch in.”

He grinned. “Really?”

I shot him a look. “No.”

“Bummer. Would like to be able to tell the guys at the garage I beat the shit out of Gage Bryant. They’d probably give me a medal. Or they’d kill me.” He shrugged like either option was okay with him. “Come on in. Need a drink?”

A bottle of bourbon sounded fantastic. Too bad I didn’t drink during the season. “I’m good.”

Thirty

Elizabeth

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