Page 82 of Cocky Player

“Still want dessert?”

“Ugh.No more mention of food.Maybe later.”

“All right, let’s get out of here then.I have my own dessert in mind.”

She chuckled, shaking her head.Someday she’d stop getting shocked by the shit that came out of my mouth.

She sipped her iced tea while I finished my own meal and paid the check.

I stood from my chair and wrapped my hand around the back of hers.“You ready?”

She grinned at me and then her gaze slid to where I’d been, mouth tightening into a smile that took me a moment to place.Fake.

“Excuse me.”

I shifted to a woman dressed in a denim skirt that hid almost nothing, a top that showed almost everything, hair out tothereand lips the color of a fire truck.“Are you Connor Quinten?”

Crap.My hand slid from Brenna’s chair to between her shoulders.“I am.”

She shoved a napkin and a pen in front of me.“I’m a huge fan of the Rough Riders.Can I get your autograph?”

A quick scan told me others noticed.A table of women similarly dressed to the woman in front of me were fluffing their hair, shimmying down their tanks to expose as much as possible.Jesus.Didn’t they see I was with a woman?

“Sure.”I gave her a smile as plastic as the woman’s faux tits and scribbled my name and jersey number onto the napkin.“Have a good night.”

I was intent on getting out of there as soon as possible before mayhem broke out.It wasn’t uncommon to get noticed, but I’d hoped I wouldn’t.

I didn’t even mind it sometimes, but tonight was different.I had plans for later and hadn’t seen nearly enough of my angel in two weeks.

We should have ordered in was my thought right before the rest of the fan’s friends gathered their nerves and sashayed straight to us.We’d been sitting in a corner and they managed to block us in.

Double shit.

“Can we have autographs too?”

They didn’t give me a chance to say no before more napkins, a notebook, a small calendar were shoved almost straight into my body.

“You okay?”I asked Brenna, looking down as I took one of the pens.She’d tensed beneath my hand and nodded.

“Yup.Go ahead.”

I glanced at her quickly.She wasn’t annoyed.There was something else going on behind her green eyes that danced around the restaurant.But hell, she saw it before I did.

Thecrowdof people now moving toward us.

“Hey, can you ladies back up some, please?Give me some space.”They didn’t listen and their energy was contagious.

I couldn’t move past them into a larger space without shoving them out of the way and their volume increased with the excitement and size of attention we’d gathered.

Brenna’s hand curled into the back of my shirt and she pressed tight to me.“I need air,” she whispered and while it was more to herself, I heard it like a gong.

“We’ll get out of here,” I said, and signed the items, stepping toward the women who didn’t seem in any hurry to leave.“Please,” I gritted out.I wasn’t past being a dick if I had to be.Brenna was my priority.

Behind me, Brenna counted.Slowly.Softly.Her hand on my back started shaking and her nails dug into my skin through my shirt.

I flinched from the sting and pushed forward again.“Thank you all for coming and wishing us a good season.If you’ll excuse me and give me space, I’ll sign everything I can on my way out.”

But being polite wasn’t working.Behind the women who still hadn’t left but somehow managed to maneuver even closer, pushing me back instead of forward, there was a group of guys, not much younger than me, beers raised in the air and chanting “Rough Riders!Rough Riders!Super Bowl!Super Bowl.”