Page 37 of Racing Heat
“Nah, we’re not doing that,” I tell him before taking a swig of my drink.
“You dating someone?” he asks me.
I shake my head. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and dread fills my stomach. Is he figuring something out? I mean, there’s nothing to figure out. It was just a kiss, and I’m beginning to think it was a mistake.
But it didn’t feel like one.
“I’m not dating anyone. Just super tired and I don’t feel like putting in the effort tonight,” I admit with a shrug.
“Well, then you need a super easy one who doesn’t mind doing all the work.” He picks up his phone and starts scrolling through it. “I have some suggestions that I could offer you. What do you like? Tell me your type.”
Danny snickers. “You’re shameful, man.”
August laughs and claps him on the back. “You’re only saying that because you have some steady pussy at home.”
Danny shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. But we love your whoring ass anyway.”
“Your fucking accent has to be chick bait,” August tells me for what feels like the fiftieth time. I swear he brings it up way more than anyone ever has.
“Yeah, it helps.”
“I’m sure it does. Probably even better than having money.”
I nod. I have both but I say nothing. Soccer players are viewed so differently over here in the US. In England, we’re paid so well, but it’s the wrong kind of football that’s rewarded over here.
“Let’s order some shots,” August says, dropping the subject of pussy and moving on to his other favorite game—getting us all shit-faced. It’s a game I don’t mind, though. Tonight, I could use some liquid oblivion.
“Yeah, why the hell not,” I reply.
“Thank fuck, man. You were starting to kill my buzz.”
“I can’t get too shit-faced. I’ve gotta make it home to Mac tonight,” Danny says with a grin.
“That’s what they make Ubers for,” August says, flagging down the waitress.
“What can I get for you, sugar?” she asks him, batting those wide blue eyes at August.
He eats it fucking up and grins just as wide as she is, leaning in as if the drink order is a secret that only she can hear.
“We’ll take three shots of tequila, please.” He hits her with a panty-dropping smile, and she giggles. “And if you’re allowed to have one, that would be great.”
“Sure thing, handsome. Is there anything else you gentlemen need?”
August exudes money, and it’s like she knows a big tip is sure to be coming her way. But August doesn’t give a shit. He could easily nail her or pick up someone else, leaving her still smiling. That’s the skill I haven’t been able to master, but he sure as shit has.
“Nah, we’re good,” Danny tells her.
She places her hand on his shoulder. “You’re that swimmer, right? And your father played football?”
It’s more of a statement than a question. I can see his jaw tic. He’s probably fighting to keep a sarcastic comment from rolling off his lips. But he keeps it together. “Yeah, that’s me. Thanks for getting us our drinks,” he says in way of dismissing her.
“What about you, handsome?” She’s looking right at me when she says it. “Would you like to give me your phone number?”
I shake my head, thinking how I wish the woman hitting on me in the bar was Cassie. She’s not unattractive, but she’s not her. It confuses me and makes me curious if she’d ever feel the same way.
“No, thank you,” I reply, hoping that she goes away as quickly as she came over here.
But it doesn’t work. “I love your accent.”
