Page 78 of A Little Crush
“Coach Thorne?”
I tear my gaze from Rory and turn back to Mr. Hoffman, my blood boiling. “I apologize. There’s someone I’ve been meaning to chat with. Make sure to bring up your grandson at the next board meeting. I’m sure they’d love to see what they can do.” With a friendly hand on his shoulder, I move around Hoffman before any logic has a chance to grab hold. She’s here. And she’s here with Crowther. Fucking Crowther. Of course, she is. I stride toward the shit show in front of me, ready to demand answers when the man of the hour leads Rory onto the dance floor, effectively preventing me from approaching without looking like a moron. I jolt to a halt on the edge of the dance area, my hands fisted at my sides.
Snap the hell out of it!
I take a deep breath through flared nostrils in an attemptto get my head out of my ass. I don’t know what I was thinking. Approaching them like this. When it doesn’t matter. When I can barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence, after witnessing them together. But you can’t blame a guy for wanting an answer or two. What the hell is she doing here? Was it always the plan? Or did she reach out to Crowther after our kiss?
“Hey, Jax,” Henry greets me. I jerk at the sound, and he grins. “Did I scare you?”
“Sorry, uh, no, you didn’t scare me, and hey,” I add. “The place looks great.”
“Thanks,” he returns. “My assistant’s thrown a few of these together over the years. Seems she hasn’t lost her touch.”
“Not at all. Erika did an incredible job.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it at her next one-on-one,” he says.
I steal another glance of Rory and Crowther, just in time to catch him dipping her on the dance floor. She laughs as he spins her around before flicking his wrist and pulling her back into him. Since when does every asshole know how to dance? First, Dodger, now this guy? What, they’re all required to take lessons or something?
“So, where’s Pops?” Henry questions.
Unable to tear my attention from the train wreck in front of me, I answer, “She’s with Iris.”
He nods slowly, then realizes what I’m staring at. “Wanna tell me about the rookie?”
Tugging at the front of my tux, I lift a shoulder, unsure what to say as I attempt to focus on the conversation instead of the mess unfolding on the dance floor. “Who? Crowther?”
“Yeah,” Henry says. “The guy dancing with my daughter. Is he a good guy?”
Does it matter?I want to shout.He’s touching her.
“Don’t know much about him,” I reply, trying to keep myexpression indifferent no matter how impossible it feels. “Unless you mean when he’s on the ice.”
Henry smiles around the rim of his scotch. “Your little brother says he’s all right.”
“That’s ‘cause Griff was the mastermind behind…” I tilt my head toward the couple in question. “Whatever this is.”
“It was probably his wife’s idea,” Henry mutters dryly.
The corner of my mouth curves up, surprising the hell out of me, all things considered. Yeah, this has Finley written all over it. “Probably.”
“It’s strange,” Henry continues. “Seeing your daughter grow up. Not sure it’s something I’ll ever get used to.” He sighs and looks at me instead of Rory across the room. “You’ll get it when Pops grows up. The way you have to fight the urge to be overprotective and let them…be who they want to be. Live how they wanna live. Love who they wanna love.”
Love.
My gut twists as I steal another glance at Rory on the dance floor with Crowther. Could she love him? Not yet, obviously. It’s way too soon. But, one day? Could she fall for him? It’s like a fucked up game of deja vu. Not only the dance, but the added love interest. First Dodger, now this? And am I so wrong for not liking it? For questioning my own damn sanity after knowing what she tastes like?
Talk about moving too fucking fast. Is she trying to get back at me? Is that what this is about? Or am I so self-absorbed that I can’t even consider the possibility that she made plans with Crowther before the kiss? Does the timeline matter? Did the kiss matter? My hand thrums at my side as I spiral more and more, the same thoughts echoing in a carousel of jealousy and unease.
Dodger. The wedding. The break up. Crowther. The date.The loss. Our kiss. Another fucking kiss. Then she walks in with him?
“I thought she was with Dodger, though,” I say. It’s a lie. I know the truth. But does Henry?
With a subtle shake of his head, Henry brings the scotch to his mouth. “Nah. He might’ve been Rory’s plus-one, but I know Dodge.”
His sagely tone makes me pause. “What does that mean?”
“You’d understand if you knew him,” he explains. “Let me know if you hear anything unsavory about Crowther, though. Just ‘cause I want my daughter to be able to make her own decisions and feel free to do what she wants to do doesn’t mean we should feed her to the wolves.”
