Page 102 of Player
“I can see the attraction.”
I spin in my seat to fully face him. “What?”
He offers me a lazy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Which answers, in part, what you’re doing here.”
This man is talking in riddles, and it’s infuriating. I raise my chin. “I’m here with my boyfriend. A fighter.”
“Finn.” He pauses. “Whom you love.”
Whoosh. Hearing him so bluntly giving voice to my feelings shocks me to my core.
Yes, I love Finn.
And no, it’s none of this man’s business. “Shouldn’t you be in back, watching the fight?”
“To witness lover boy’s win? Not necessary, especially when the bigger gamble is at the bar.”
I frown. Whiskey brain or not, it’s obvious he’s talking about me.
“How am I a gamble?”
“You love Finn. But my next question is, what do we do about it?”
Unbelievable. This man wants to give me relationship advice? I should walk away from him. But either the whiskey is messing with my head or the sudden weight on my love-struck heart is rooting me in place because, instead of escaping, I adopt the very Irish gift of gab. “We? What makes you qualified to give me advice? Have you ever even been in love?”
No doubt this man has had his share of women. Sex. Physical release. Little discussion about love and a whole lot of lust. His whole demeanor suggests he thrives on being in control, from the tap on his watch face to his ambiguous comments. Complicated,unexpected,emotions must be beyond a man of his nature. So, I don’t expect him to answer.
“Yes.”
My jaw drops, and it takes me several seconds to recover. “In love, I mean, not in lust.”
“I know the difference.”
His expression is blank, devoid of emotion. But call me crazy, he’s telling the truth. I cock my head at him. “How many times?”
“Once. Only and always once.”
Holy shit. This handsome, arrogant man has a broken heart? I’m stunned. “What happened?”
“I let her go.”
My eyes widen. “Why?”
“Life isn’t about always having what you want.”
“And you want her? Still?”
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Then what are you waiting for? Go after her.”
Something indefinable passes across his brown eyes. Going after her isn’t a new idea, I think. Yet here he is, inside this fight club, having a discussion about love with a stranger.
“What did you do?” I prompt, going on gut instinct.
“I hurt her.”
