The Player and the Pixie
Page 52

Lucy’s anxiety-riddled chatter faded as the bathroom door clicked shut.
I released an audible exhale. My heart was beating as though it might leap from my chest. I needed to catch my breath. Neither had anything to do with being caught.
What the fuck were you doing?
It was the sex. She’s phenomenal in bed. You’ve never had that before. It was just sex.
I nodded, reiterating the logic of my justification for the uncharacteristic behavior. If I repeated it enough, perhaps I would believe it.
I didn’t count to three hundred as instructed. I counted to one hundred and twenty-three, then realized what I was doing.
“You’re mad, Sean,” I muttered, shaking myself and promptly leaving the ladies’ room. I checked the cufflinks on my dress shirt—a nervous habit—and strolled back to the table, eyeing the assortment of eejits gathered.
Tom, as an example, was a complete eejit. I hated the way he looked at Lucy, like she might be delicious. I no more believed he saw her as a cousin than I did.
Of course, Ronan was an ape.
Bryan Leech, however, was something else. Unfortunately, he’d drunk the Ronan Fitzpatrick Kool-Aid, but he was far too subversive to be a total moron. He was the only man in Union history to be suspended three times in a season and still retain his contract for the next year. He was a sneak, but not quite an eejit.
Annie, Ronan’s fiancée, must’ve been an eejit on some level. Why else would she sacrifice all that brilliance and lusciousness to an ape?
And then there was Lucy . . .
I reclaimed my seat next to her. She was in the middle of a conversation with fuckwit Tom. He was talking, likely about himself or his little restaurant.
“Sean.” Bryan tapped on the table, drawing my attention to him. “Are you headed back to Barcelona after this?”
I shook my head, but before I could answer, Ronan cut in, “Nah, he was in Dublin before this. He tried to take my seat out of Spain.”
I shifted in my chair, clenching my jaw to keep my acerbic remark to myself. I had to swallow a gulp of water before I could respond. “Was it a pleasant flight?”
Ronan narrowed his eyes on me, clearly distrustful of the benign direction of my comment.
Our team captain leaned back from the table and scratched his jaw, examining me. “Once you were booted, it was pleasant.”
I nodded, having nothing else to say since I couldn’t say anything nasty. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me as I cut into my steak, chewed it, swallowed, and drank another gulp of water.
“Thank you for that, by the way.” Annie joined the conversation. “Thank you for giving up your seat.”
“He didn’t give it up.” Ronan scowled at his fiancée. “They made him leave.”
“Ronan,” the pretty brunette warned.
“What? It’s the truth.” The ape shrugged.
Annie sighed.
Lucy cleared her throat.
Bryan smirked. “I’ve been tossed off a flight or two myself over the years. Worth it, though. There’s a lot to be said for joining the mile-high club.”
“Bryan.” Ronan frowned, eyes going pointedly to his sister like he didn’t want Bryan defiling her innocent ears. I resisted the urge to snicker. She’d already been thoroughly defiled, and would continue to be if I had my way.
I took another bite of my steak, chewed, swallowed, and wracked my brain for a serviceable compliment so I could cross it off my list and end this farce of a dinner. Perhaps something like:
Your enunciation is exceptional for a primate.
Kudos to you for not flinging your excrement at the dinner table.
You smell not terrible.
Instead, I glanced at Lucy and said, “You have an excellent memory, Ronan.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he challenged, eyes narrowing further.
“Just that.” I shrugged. “Your recollection of our flight seating mishap is impeccable.”
“Well, it was just a week ago,” came his flat reply. “I might be older than you by two months, but I’m not long in the tooth just yet.”
“A week ago?” Lucy held my gaze for two beats, a whisper of a smile curving her sweet lips. I lifted my eyebrows subtly, hoping she’d interpret the meaning of the small gesture.
She squinted at me, admirably suppressing her grin, then turned her attention to Annie. “Why were you in Spain?”
I released a silent, relieved exhale, and did not follow the ensuing conversation.
The compliment had been paid. Now it was her turn.
***
I left first, begging off after the main course. Neither Tom nor Ronan protested my departure, but Annie and Lucy encouraged me to stay, likely because I was playing so nicely.
Playing nice only required that I say nothing, but was essential if I didn’t want to give Lucy any excuse to miss our rendezvous. I’d also been playing nice because, much to my delighted surprise, it aggravated Ronan to no end.
The hotel wasn’t too far from the restaurant. I walked, checking my phone at every corner for a message from Lucy. It didn’t buzz with a text until I’d walked into the hotel lobby.
Lucy: A great memory? Really?
Sean: Yes. Really. His memory is faultless. Pristine. Immaculate.
Lucy: That’s a shitty compliment. That’s like telling a person they don’t smell.
Is it odd that this made me laugh? I took gleeful satisfaction in the book-report nature of my compliment.
Ronan is a man. He has very brown hair, and very brown eyes, and a very good memory.