Page 55 of Powerless
His eyes are tight and searching. He looks like a dog staring up at me through the bars at a shelter, desperate for someone to save him, to shield him. I think he’s always needed that in some way.
Holding his navy-blue gaze, I take a deep swig, and goddamn, the more Buddyz Best I drink the better it tastes.
“Girl, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself,” I blurt, flicking my eyes over to the woman who is holding her tits out to him like she’s the deal of the day at a fastfood restaurant.
I’m cringing for Jasper but I’m also cringing for her.
Hilariously, I’m cringing for me too.
Cringing all around.
Her eyes narrow and her shoulders shimmy. “He’s just playing hard to get.” She turns to Jasper with a slow, feline smile stretching at her lips. “But I’m patient. And I like to play.”
I snort in the most unladylike way, my alcohol consumption really coming out to play. But it’s like I’m watching myself from above. Little Sloane taking her toboggan down a slippery slope with no way to stop.
“Play what? Sexual harassment?”
The girl crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up again. And god, they really are big. I’ll readily admit I’m a little envious. “Rich coming from the girl who was just all pressed up against a man who isn’t her husband. Bet your real husband would love to know that you’re here whoring it up with an NHL player.”
One loud laugh erupts from my throat, and everyone looks at me, stunned. “Whoring it up?”
It’s funny. Sterling would absolutely use the term “whoring it up.”
I laugh again, and the girls stare at me like I’m fucked in the head.
And they’re not wrong.
The thought of Sterling knowing I’m on the road with Jasper, that we’re sharing a hotel room, playing pool and having fun, is suddenly deeply satisfying.
And hilarious.
I can vividly imagine the vein in his forehead throbbing and his meaty fingers curling in on themselves while he stomps his foot and demands I come home. Suddenly Sterling Woodcock is nothing more than a badly behaved, red-faced toddler in my head, and the image sends me right over the edge.
Laughter bubbles up slowly, and before I know it, I’m laughing hard enough that tears prick at my eyes.
Jasper shakes his head at me, but the amusement on his face is clear. He moves in and slings a long arm over my shoulders. “Time to go, Winthrop.” He turns to guide us away, the girls clearly confused as all get-out.
“No! I need to finish my Buddyz Best so I can round out my training as a connoisseur. And you need to sign that girl’s jugs so she can continue to pretend she wants your autograph when she just wants you to fondle her melons.”
The sound of a scoff and the sight of the girls turning to leave draws my attention momentarily. “I really hope she tracks Sterling down and tells him about this.”
Jasper’s laugh rumbles against me as he leads me to our coats, and it just makes me laugh harder. So satisfying. Even if I am making an ass of myself. I’m just past the point of caring. The point of caring was two beers ago.
“Sunny, you’re cut off, and all melons are going to remain in the produce section.”
“They were big, Jas. And so round.” I hold my hands up in front of me and mimic squeezing a set of breasts. “I’m a little jealous if I’m being honest. I’d kill for melons like that. Do you know which grocer carries them? I’d pay good money.”
He covers me in my coat and slings his over his arm before tossing cash on the table. Then I’m tucked up against him again and we’re walking out into the dark, frosty night. “You’re perfect the way you are, Sloane. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Usually I’d preen and overthink that sentence, but right now I just giggle.
“Are you saying my melons are nice?” I press my chest out and cup them.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days,” is how he responds.
“Would you sign my melons if I wanted you to?”
“I need to get you some water.”
