My brow knits. Hmm. Is Brooke into food play? If that’s what the lady wants, I’ll read up on the best way to bring food into the bedroom. Chocolate sauce maybe? Cherries? Not my thing, but I’m game to try, and the lady has thrown down a challenge.
Drew:Say the word. I’ll get chocolate sauce.
IOU:I guess we’re still on for the all-you-can-eat buffet tonight.
Drew:I will spend as much time between your sweet legs as I possibly can. But confession: I’d really like to spank you too, and I bet you’d like that.
IOU:Well, I have been a very bad girl.
Drew:Then I will punish you with my palm.
IOU:Ooh, punish me, baby.
I side-eye the device. That’s not entirely her style.Baby? But then again, she’s amping up the dirty talk big time over text.
Trouble is, I’m about to walk into an event sporting wood.
Drew:All right, honey, I need to concentrate on being a good guy for the next hour before I see you and take care of all your bedroom needs.
IOU:Bet you’ll be thinking of spanking me with a taco.
I blink in confusion. What the hell has got into Brooke tonight? No idea, but it’s time to put her out of my mind since we’ve reached the hotel. I didn’t even mention the trade, but there’s time for that later.
I say goodbye to the driver, then step out of the car, and walk toward the art deco hotel with the peach pastel façade. The sun dips low in the lavender sky over the ocean, and I snap a quick pic to send to Mom.Next time you get a sitter, I’ll put you and Tom up here. This place looks sweet!
Tucking my phone away, I head inside, spotting Stephen in a corner of the lobby, talking into hisphone. Once he sees me, he puts the device away. He escorts me to the ballroom, all exposed pipes and concrete walls, then introduces me to several people with the youth sports organization. A photographer snaps shots the whole time, and I play the role that’s hardly a role—the outgoing, non-troublemaking, peace-loving quarterback, who doesn’t throw punches or raise hell.
After I chat with some of the biggest donors, Stephen shepherds me to an olive-skinned, bearded man who, it turns out, heads up this charity.
“Drew, I want you to meet Paul Tavarez with Young Athletes. Paul, this is Drew Adams. He joined our team today as the quarterback. We’re thrilled to have him on board, especially since he’s already active with many wonderful charitable endeavors,” Stephen says to the bearded man.
“Nice to meet you, Paul. Love the work you’re doing to create opportunities for kids who need and want it. I was one of those kids once upon a time,” I say, shaking Paul’s hand. “And I’d love to get more involved.”
“Music to my ears,” Paul says, beaming.
We talk for a few minutes about how I’d like to get more involved when Stephen drops a hand on my shoulder.
“There’s someone else I want you to meet,” he says, then guides me away from Paul and toward a high table in the corner. “My right-hand woman issharp as a tack. She makes sure we don’t fumble,” he says, then winks in case I didn’t realize he was making a joke.
I smile to let him know I get it—fumbling humor and all. Then my smile widens when my gaze narrows in on…
That’s my rock star goddess surf angel.
And she’s even sexier than she was on Sunday. Brooke is hot as sin in a red skirt, white blouse, and black heels, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. The businesswoman look is almost enough to make me forget my name—
Wait. Hold the fuck on.
What is Brooke doing here?
Oh, I bet I know. Her baseball team’s probably involved with the charity too.
That must be it. Luck is on my side in all the things—romance, football, traffic.
Yay me.
Stephen leads me her way, and I try to rein in a grin, the whole time thinking about kissing Brooke, touching her, stripping her naked later tonight.
But when I reach her and her eyes lock with mine, Brooke almost seems like a different person. Her genuine smile from the beach is gone, replaced by a plastic grin. Her warm brown eyes are cold.