“A private section?” she asked softly as the maître d ushered us up the small set of steps and onto a roped-off dais above the other diners.
“It’s easier this way,” I said against her ear. “Helps us avoid what happened the last time we went out.”
She nodded as we all filed around the round table.
I pulled out her chair, then took the seat next to her. Teagan claimed the chair next to Liberty’s, and Rick sat on Teagan’s free side. Roman took the one on my left, then Savannah, who had asked if she could tag along to get some time away from the hotel. Hendrix sank into the chair between her and Rick.
“I can’t believe you,” the redhead muttered, picking up her menu. “We weren’t even inside the door, and you were already hitting on the hostess.”
“Would you rather I have started outside?” Hendrix quipped, grabbing his own menu.
Our waitress appeared, took one look around the table and flushed. Then she took a breath and our drink orders as professionally as possible. One good thing about being in LA is that everyone was used to celebrities. We weren’t quite as sparkly and special here and generally got left the hell alone.
“You sure the flight was okay?” I asked Liberty for the third time since she’d arrived at the hotel with Teagan a couple of hours ago. “I hate that you can’t fly with the team.” It had been a pleasant surprise to realize just how easy she was to travel with. Some of the guys had horror stories about the demands their girlfriends placed on them when they flew to away games.
“It was fine,” she assured me. “For crying out loud, you flew me first class.” She shook her head, just like she had when I’d given her the ticket. “Such a freaking—”
“Extravagance,” I finished for her, having heard it before. Then I kissed her lips softly. “I just wanted to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“Oh, trust me, we were comfortable,” Teagan added. “Thank you, baby,” she said to Rick.
“Rick Baker’s girl doesn’t fly coach,” he answered with a grin and kissed her. “Only the best for you.”
Teagan giggled and kissed him again.
“God, I wish you girls had flown with us,” Savannah muttered, adjusting the lapels on her blue jacket that matched her equally blue pants, which I had noted were tight enough to make her sneak past Coach while he wasn’t watching. Her hair was up, her big hoop earrings sparkled, and there was a full, but tasteful face of makeup on her. Huh. Somewhere along the line, the little girl on the sideline had grown up to be a beautiful woman. I glanced around the table at the hulking mass of guys and pitied the man who fell for her.
We were a hell of a line to get through, and I had no problem switching to defense for Savannah. She was the closest thing I had to a kid sister.
“Oh, come on, we’re not that bad to fly with,” Hendrix snorted, looking back over his shoulder at the diners a level below.
“Yeah, we are.” Roman grinned.
“Why don’t you fly back with us?” Liberty offered, then sputtered. “Oh god, sorry, Nixon, I wasn’t trying to spend your money or anything.”
The entire table laughed.
“Honey, I’ve told you, unless you’re out there buying houses, you can’t possibly spend what I make in a day. You know that credit card I gave you for maternity clothes? Use it for whatever you want. Feel free to buy Savannah a ticket. Just…” I tilted my head as a smile teased my lips. “Just don’t be shocked when she’s not allowed to fly back with you anyway.”
“Okay, we’re going to talk about that whole card thing later,” Liberty said to me, then turned toward Savannah. “You wouldn’t be allowed to fly back with us?” Her brow knit in concern.
Hendrix leaned back in his chair and gave a blonde at the table below the nod.
Savannah followed his line of sight and rolled her eyes, then pushed him slightly, causing him to nearly lose his balance on the back legs.
“Fuck!” he hissed, but righted his chair and glared at Savannah.
“My dad would throw a colossal shit fit.” Savannah shrugged, answering Liberty’s question and completely ignoring the fact that she’d nearly taken Hendrix out.
Liberty’s jaw dropped. “Isn’t that…” She shook her head. “You know what, it’s not my business. Sorry, I’m finishing up my doctorate in psychology, and sometimes my brain just runs away on me.”
“It’s okay,” Savannah assured her. “I bet you’re thinking it’s controlling, right?”
Liberty’s blush answered for her, and I stretched my arm across the back of her chair, then ran my thumb over the soft skin of her exposed shoulder to reassure her.
“It is,” Savannah admitted, “but it’s not. If I really wanted to go with you guys, he’d let me. My parents had this whole fairytale marriage thing, but Mom died in a car accident when I was five, and ever since then, he’s been a bit of a hoverer.”