Page 94 of Lucky Laces
I don’t want to get dragged into a night out with the boys, not when I’m planning on talking my way into DeeDee’s bed…or convincing her to spend the night in mine.
“Girl’s night in Vegas.”He scowls and shoves a hand in his pocket then pulls out his cell and shows me the screen.
My lips twitch when I see Rory, Chrissy, Tiff, Attie, and Jo all cuddled up in a girl pose.
And all of them—except for Chrissy, who’s pregnant—are clearly inebriated, smiling wide, drinks in hand, outfits totally and completelyVegas.
“Jean-Michel know his girls”—and I mean the plural, since Tiff is his fiancée, Chrissy and Rory his daughters, and Attie and Jo are newly claimed by the grumpy, protective team owner—“are dressed like that and drunk off their asses?”
“Considering he’s been watching Quinn”—Jo’s son—“while they enjoy the impromptu girls weekend to watch a nineties boy band?”King’s mouth twitches.“Yes, I think he’s aware.”
My brows flick up.
And I’m seriously glad that Diana is busy with the team.
I don’t have to worry about her panties landing on stage at a boy band concert.
“And you?”I say as he shoves his phone back into his pocket and we hit the weight room.“How do you feel about your girl drunk—” I pause and decide to leave out the part about skimpy Vegas clothes, not wanting to poke the bear.King, when triggered, can be a fucking monster.“And drooling over millennial pop stars?”
“I think,” he says, mouth curving, “that I’m happy Jean-Michel’s in charge of the details for the Girl’s Trip.”
My brows flick up in question.
“They have a bodyguard, a chauffeur, and his private jet is fueled up and ready to bring them home as soon as the concert’s done.”He grins.“My girl gets to have her night with her friends and she’ll be home—and hopefully still drunk—so I can enjoyher.”One big shoulder lifts, drops.“It’s win-win.”
I consider this as he heads over to start his work out.
Then realize he’s right.
At the same time I’m wondering how soon I can arrange a Girl’s Trip or Night for DeeDee.
Normal sex with her almost killed me—and I don’t mean the leg wound.
Drunk sex would blow my fucking mind.
Grinning, I move to the mat and start warming up, going through a series of stretches and mobility exercises that have my pulse speeding and sweat breaking out on my forehead.It makes no fucking sense whystretchesare so goddamned hard, but they are, and considering I can’t get my cardio in the way I want it (with Dee, with both of us naked, and with me inside, pounding deep) it feels good to get my heart rate up.
“Christ,” I hear as I’m lying flat out on the mat, lungs working far too hard.
I glance over, see that Rhodes has collapsed next to me.
“Long workout?”I ask.
“Longnight,” he mutters.“Hell, who am I kidding?”He rubs his palms over his face and groans.“It’s been a long four years.”
Rhodes has been a single dad to his daughter Chloe for thoselongfour years, ever since his wife passed.
Chloe is five, fucking cute as hell…and is a total spitfire who has Rhodes wrapped around her pinky finger.
“What happened last night?”I ask, knowing it could be anything from Chloe deciding that his bedroom needed to be decorated (and thus took it upon herself to slap an entire book’s worth of glittery stickers on Rhodes’s walls) or a slumber party of multiple kindergarten aged girls (which coalesced into them giving Rhodes a makeover).
Something he begrudgingly shared with the team the last time we got him drunk.
Something that doesn’t happen very often because even though he has a nanny who takes care of Chloe while he’s on the road or at practice, Rhodes is a very involved dad and rarely goes out with us.
Not that I’m Mr.Social.
But I’m damn glad I went with the guys that night.
