Talkin' Trash
Page 9

What mattered was that she was there, in close proximity, and I was reminded of that one time that we’d almost gone too far.
It’d been the best I’d ever had, and that was saying something since I’d had a lot.
The knock came again, this time at the door to my bathroom.
I turned around so my ass was facing the panel of glass instead of my hard dick and called out, “Yeah?”
She opened the door, just like I knew she would, and I heard her low inhale. “Shit, sorry.”
The door didn’t close, though.
I chanced a look over my shoulder to see her eyes downcast, and a flush staining her cheeks.
“It’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen my ass before,” I pointed out.
She’d seen my dick, too.
It’d been when we were about to take that last step when we’d been interrupted.
She groaned. “Must you always bring that up when I see you half naked?”
I barely contained the grin. “It’s true.”
She growled in frustration, then sighed when she realized how futile it was.
I did what I wanted, and I always had.
“Anyway, I came in here to tell you that the pizza place is like ten orders behind because they only have one car running at the current moment. Did you want me to order from the Chinese place that delivers instead?” she asked.
I could barely hear her over the water pounding down on me, not to mention the rush of blood that was currently causing me to be highly focused on my dick rather than the words that were coming out of her mouth.
“How about we go get pizza?” I suggested.
She made a frustrated noise.
She was weighing the pros and cons, and she wasn’t finding a way out of going.
“I can go home,” she paused. “Come back when your publicist wakes up?”
The hopefulness in her voice had me suppressing the laughter that was boiling in my throat. God, she’d do absolutely anything to get away from the situation she found herself in, that was for sure.
“I texted her before I got in the shower,” I lied. “What if she calls while you’re gone, and I don’t have all the information that you gave out? What if she has questions I can’t answer?”
She stomped her foot. “You’re so annoying.”
“I’ll wear a hat,” I offered. “Nobody will ever know that it’s me.”
Famous last words were those.
I knew exactly what would happen if we went to my favorite pizza place. Exactly.
Conleigh, on the other hand, was such a positive thinker, always going into everything with such a positive outlook, that she couldn’t see through the lie.
She didn’t think to question me, but she should have.
Chapter 6
I finally got eight hours of sleep. Sure, it took me three days to accomplish…but still.
-Conleigh to Linc
Conleigh
It was halfway through our pizza when the first person noticed us.
Now that I thought about it, it’d likely been even before that, but that particular fan had been the one ballsy enough to actually go out of her way and ask for the autograph.
I tensed as the fan came up to the table and stopped, her eyes shining with an inner light that showed that she really was a diehard fan.
“Can I have your autograph?” she whispered feverishly.
Linc was about to say no. I could see it written all over his face.
“Um,” I said, causing the girl to drag her eyes away from Linc. “Could you hang out and wait for us to finish dinner?” I asked, pointing to Linc’s piece of pizza that was halfway extended to his mouth. “He’ll sign whatever you want him to after he’s done eating. I promise.”
The girl winced. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I’ll just go wait in the booth by the door, okay?”
Then she was gone, leaving me and Linc looking at each other.
“That was nice of you,” he admitted, taking the bite of pizza he’d been about to take a minute before. “Some of the other players’ wives and girlfriends are really quite rude.”
“I’m not a girlfriend or a wife,” I muttered.
Linc shrugged one shoulder. “Not what I meant. It’s rude whether you’re my girlfriend or my sister. Normally, the manager does a better job at keeping them away from me.”
That was true.
Then what he said had me glancing at him. “What do you mean the manager normally does a better job at keeping them away from you?”
“Exactly that,” he answered.
I clenched my hands into fists. “Then you knew you’d be recognized, even with your hat?”
I wanted to smack him.
“Yes,” he answered. “But that’s also why I came here.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my best “I’m trying not to kill you” face.
“I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what happened,” I said carefully, trying to contain my anger. “I already dodged two reporters today, both of whom remembered who I was from back then, and I can already tell that this is going to get blown out of proportion. I don’t like being in the spotlight, Linc.”
Linc leaned back as well. “I realize that, but that is why I came here. I don’t like my shit out there any more than you do, honey. And the owner is a friend of the club. His son is in the club. He wouldn’t let the fans here get out of hand, and he won’t let them take pictures. You pretty much have to know this place, and who owns it, to even find the place and get in the door.”
He had a point. I hadn’t even known the place was there until he’d pulled up outside the entrance.
My shoulders slumped, and I leaned forward until my head was resting against the table as I groaned.
“I made a mess of things, Linc,” I said into my arms.
I felt a very big, warm hand land on my neck, and things inside of my body started to rapidly spring to life.
Any time that I was in Linc’s presence, things started to happen inside of me.
It was like my body just started to do things that I didn’t want it to do, and I had absolutely zero control.
I stayed there for long moments, allowing the steady kneading of the heel of his hand as it soothed the sore muscles in my neck. He didn’t pull away until I lifted my head after what felt like hours later, blinking at the brightness of the low hanging light that was directly above the table.
“I want to quit school!” I blurted.
He blinked at me.
“Then do it,” he suggested, not missing a beat.
I looked down at my hands that were folded across my arms on the table, studying each nail that I could see. They were kind of haggard looking.
I hadn’t had a chance to get my nails done in so long that I couldn’t possibly begin to remember when the last time was.
It’d been years.
“I want to get my nails done,” I murmured.
I thought I’d done it so softly that he hadn’t heard, because he didn’t respond. The music was beating softly in the background of our conversation, and there were quite a few people in the establishment, making a hum of quiet discussions thrum through the air as well.
But then he picked one of my hands up and brought it to my face, his large thumb sweeping over my middle finger. “Then get them done.”
He had an answer for everything.
However, life wasn’t that easy. One couldn’t just drop what she was doing and do what pleased her.
I shrugged, feeling my heart start to pick up again with my hand in his.
What was it about this man that affected me so much?
He was stunning, and he always had been.
The years that I’d known him had been kind to him. He’d aged, sure, but he’d matured and filled out in all the right places.
His beard, which had always been beautiful, had lightened, and I could now see just the slightest hint of bluish lights along the silky black on his jawline. His eyes, those beautiful eyes of his, had laugh lines at the corners.
And his lip had a new scar.
“That game was bad,” I murmured, my eyes never leaving his lip. “I thought my heart was going to fall right out of my chest when I saw you take that hit.”