Everyone who works within the New York Warriors organization knows that star player August Fletcher refuses to talk to most people...and especially team reporters. All except Quinn Castle, that is.
Quinn doesn't know why the broody football player...
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NEARLY A WEEK later, Finny was hovering next to me again, breathing down my neck as I tried to concentrate on making a drink at the bar.
We'd just announced last call, and I was trying to get through a couple orders so we could close up and head home. I had a pretty girl to take to bed so we could both forget about the rest of the world for a few hours.
Finny drummed his fingers on the bartop like he was trying to decide what he wanted to say, and it was grating on my last nerves.
"So, uh..."
I gritted my teeth in annoyance because it was giving me flashbacks to last week when he'd told me the worst fucking news.
The last thing I ever wanted was to drag Quinn down into the mess I'd made with my former team. I could handle their pushback, but while I knew she was strong enough to take on anything, I didn't want her to have to. She didn't sign up for this shitstorm the way I had.
"Spit it out, Finn," I said with a sigh as I put the finishing touch on my drink and slid it across the bar to the waiting customer. I started working on another, trying to keep my anxieties at bay.
He cleared his voice in response. "It's just that you're all over the internet again."
I frowned, my stomach immediately dropping. If someone else was saying shit about Quinn, I was going to fucking kill them. God, I'd had enough of this.
"Is it Quinn?" I asked because that was really the only thing that mattered. I didn't give a damn if people were talking about me; they could gossip all they wanted. But if they wanted to bring my girlfriend into it, I had things to fucking say about that.
Because Quinn was mine now—not for now, not until she left, not until her assignment was over. All that was a different life, a different story. Now she was mine. Full stop. And like hell was I going to let anyone ruin that or ruin her.
"Yeah, actually, it is," Finn said, but he didn't sound...worried. His tone of voice was the only thing that kept me in check as I passed the next drink across the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quinn walk by with a tray of dishes she was taking back to the kitchen.
Fuck, I didn't deserve her. The way she'd been jumping in to help Sunny around here from the minute I brought her to that first fish fry had been unbelievable. She was incredible, and I'd never take her for granted.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to face Finny and whatever the hell the internet was saying now. It had better be fucking good, or I just might lose it.
I wiped my hands on my pants before sticking one out, palm up. "Show me."
Finny hesitated annoyingly before putting his phone in my hand, and I glanced up to see his face for the first time since he'd walked over here.
And weirdly enough, he was smiling.
"What the hell is that look for?"
His smile broadened as he set the phone down in my hand.
