I settle back into my seat and look out the passenger window. Nothing left to discuss with Coen, and whatever happens to him isn’t my problem. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want any commiseration, so I, too, have no fucks to give about the guy.
What happens, happens.
It’s silent the rest of the ride back to the hotel, and when we arrive, more reporters are camped on the sidewalk. Coen walks in with his head held high—not that I think he’s proud of what he did, but because I don’t think he really cares.
Inside the lobby, a few of the guys mill about. Coen walks without breaking stride to the elevator. I have no clue if he’s heading to our room or straight to a meeting with Keller and Derringer. Regardless, I’m not going up with him.
I see Gage by the small coffee kiosk across the lobby talking to Baden, and I head their way.
Their conversation halts when I approach.
Gage attempts some levity by playfully backhanding me in the stomach. “In case you were wondering, the camera really does add fifteen pounds.”
“Christ, what a nightmare,” I growl, stepping up to the counter and ordering a large black coffee.
“Did he say what happened?” Baden asks.
I shake my head. “Not true details. Just that his fist connected with a guy’s face. Completely flippant about it all.”
“Keller’s about ready to explode,” Baden says quietly, and I can tell he’s worried about Coen. Good thing someone has some fucks to give.
I grab my coffee, handing over my credit card. “What do you think’s going to happen?”
Gage shrugs and Baden shakes his head. “Nothing good. Probably just a fine if Coen is appropriately apologetic, but somehow, I don’t think Keller’s going to get the good little boy routine from him.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Coen takes a swing at him,” Gage muses.
“Derringer will keep things cool,” I say, and I hope that’s true.
Baden claps me on the shoulder and nods at Gage. “I’d like to stay and discuss all the ways this can get worse, but I have a beautiful woman waiting for me in my room.”
My eyebrows raise, completely shocked at this radical change in subject, and also, because Baden doesn’t seem the type to just hook up.
When he leaves, Gage must see my confusion and laughs. “It’s Sophie. She came to see him because he was sick.”
Dawning hits me, and I nod. “Got it.”
I don’t know much about the relationship between Baden and Sophie. Gossip has made its way around, especially after Baden stayed behind in Phoenix to give his victim impact statement when one of his attackers took a plea deal. The team traveled on to Houston, and it was then I learned who Sophie was—the girl he saved—and heard rumblings they might have something more going.
I wasn’t sure until now.
The way Baden mentioned her waiting in his room—not in a lewd way, but in a manner that said he’s the luckiest son of a bitch to have someone.
It’s a concept I have no experience with nor have I ever strove for such a thing. Relationships have never been a priority.
I wonder if they were with Brooks. Did he ever find someone to love?
And what about Harlow? Is she the type of woman who dreams of big white weddings, or is she more of a one-night stand type?
And why the fuck am I even wondering about her in that light? I’m not interested in her in that way.
I mean… unless she’s a one-night stand type, then maybe.
Well, not maybe.
That would be a hell yes.
“I’m sure there’ll be a team meeting soon,” Gage says, and my head snaps his way.
“About what?” I ask, my brain a bit fuzzy from thinking about Harlow and berating myself for the same.
Gage shakes his head, amused. “About this thing with Coen. I’ll bet you ten dollars he won’t play tonight. I bet they move Rivers up to our line.”
“That’s not a bet I’ll take,” I reply before sipping my coffee. “He’ll be out of tonight’s game at a minimum. And yeah… Rivers is the right call.”
Our conversation delves deep into options regarding not only our line, but if Boone Rivers is moved up from the second line, who will take his place? The depth of the third line is weak at best.
The entire time Gage and I volley scenarios, I can’t help but continue to wonder about Harlow and what type of woman she is.
CHAPTER 13
Harlow
“No, you can’t go.” Odin looks at me with chocolate eyes drooping with sadness. His gaze shifts pointedly to his leash hanging by the door. “I’m sorry, but no. Dogs aren’t welcome, unfortunately.”
I scrub behind his ear, vigorously enough his back leg shakes with delight. “We’ll cuddle when I get home, and there might be a treat involved.”
He can’t understand the words, but he seems to accept my departure as he swivels his head and licks my palm.