“Slurping turtle, blowmance—”
“All right, all right, can it,” Cal cut in, catching the eye of Reid Durand who had not yet gone into the shower. That guy really put Cal’s back up. “I will not be accepting any BJ-related nicknames.”
Theo chuckled. “That’s the beauty of the nickname rules, Foreman. You don’t get to decide as I am painfully aware. You think I would have come up with Superglutes if I had a choice in the matter? That was all Hunt’s doing. Wait—Foreman.” He rubbed his chin. “Foreman, Fore … skin. Might have to let that one percolate.”
That was all he needed. Kershaw percolating.
Cal grabbed his gym bag and headed out, ignoring the new buzz of a message on the phone in his sweats’ pocket from the monster he’d unleashed.
He threw his bag in the car’s trunk and took a seat behind the wheel. With a surreptitious look around—though he was doing absolutely nothing wrong here!—he checked the message from Lady M.
Blow jobs, buddy. Best technique, hands off or tongue only? And deep throating? Is that really a thing guys like? Uh, why?
He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to read the rest, but that only started a movie reel on the inside of his eyelids. One with a head of dark hair positioned between his legs, bobbing up and down, blue-flamed eyes raised to his, her soft, supple mouth sliding along his …
This was not part of the deal. He hit dial on the phone.
“Foreman! What’s up?” The sound of something mechanical drowned out her speech.
“Mia, we can’t do this.”
“What? Oh, hold on a second.” She scolded someone gently—it sounded like the dog. “Sorry, I’m making a fruit smoothie for myself and Gordie Howe’s lunch. So what’s going on? Did you get my messages? Sorry to be so in your face about it but I think it’s time to move past first base, if you know what I mean.”
When had this become necessary? He could enquire more about why she felt a need to go Triple-X on their text exchanges.
Or he could draw a line in the sand.
“Yes, that’s what I’m calling about. I can’t be having these conversations with you.”
“On text, you mean? Worried about prying eyes?” She chuckled as if that was funny. It was not.
“Everyone is pretty nosey. But that’s not the problem.” Or the only problem. He hauled in a breath. “Mia, this isn’t right.”
She went silent.
“Mia?”
“What isn’t right?” She sounded hesitant and worst of all, hurt. But he’d started down this path and he had to see it through.
“It’s not appropriate for me to be discussing these things with you. I did say this already.”
“Why? Because it’s locker room talk?”
“Yeah. It’s the kind of thing you should discuss with someone you’re close to. A girlfriend.” Not him. Jesus, as if he would ever be good enough for Vadim’s precious sister.
Where the hell had that come from?
“So you’re not my friend?”
“I’m not your girlfriend.” And I’m certainly not your boyfriend. I would destroy you.
“I don’t really have anyone I can talk to about this.”
“Don’t you have friends in New York? Or college?” She’d been a star on her team at Harvard. Surely she had buddies, though if she didn’t play much anymore, maybe that was related. He got the impression he’d unearthed something crucial here yet he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Why had Mia come to him for help?
“Yeah. Sure. I can do that.” He could hear short, jagged breaths. “Sorry to have bothered you. I thought—well, it doesn’t matter.”
“Mia.” Shit, he’d fucked up here. He should have let her down gently, but the BJ talk was a little too on the nose, a little too sexy. “I’m happy to give advice about the male mindset but the sex stuff feels like we’re in dangerous territory.”
“I get it. It’s fine. Don’t worry, Foreman, you’re off the hook.” And then she hung up.
Mia waved at Tara from her seat in the corner of the coffee shop. They had met a couple of times since running into each other after Levi Hunt’s wedding and had kept in touch with the odd text here and there. Tara’s motives puzzled her.
Mia couldn’t help being suspicious. After her college experience, she had found out quickly who her true friends were. In withdrawing her complaint against Drew and labeling it a mistake, she’d been dismissed as a flake, an attention-whore, and a bitter harridan determined to tear down a promising young man’s career. And those were some of the nicer