Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,48

your problem. You take everything too damn serious. You need to loosen up. Just have fun with a hot girl without considering whether or not you could marry her.”

“Wait, so, I can ‘have fun’ with some random girl at a club I feel zero connection to, but not with a woman I actually like and enjoy spending time with?” I ask.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Sandy says, pointing his drink at me. “You can’t even enjoy yourself unless you’re having some deep spiritual connection. You’re too intense.”

“I’m disciplined and focused.”

“You’re uptight.”

“I’m a goalie.”

He smirks and takes another gulp of his beer. “And a damn good one. S’why we need to get your uptight ass away from distracting popstars and back on the ice.”

He bumps my shoulder with his, and my retort stutters in my throat. We all glance over at the commotion at the entrance to the VIP section, and I instinctively check my phone. Sure enough, there’s a message from Genevieve.

I’m here. Where are you?

“Excuse me,” I say.

“Oliver…” Sandy warns, but I ignore him and continue pushing until he moves with a grunt. “You’re making a big mistake,” he mutters. I feel Kelsie’s displeased stare as well. The other guys still haven’t clued in to the fact that the arrival of someone big has anything to do with our table. I forget all about them and potential fallout when I see her.

Genevieve looks stunning in a form-fitting silver dress that makes her hair glow in the club lights. Her bodyguards hover close, a hostess leading the way to a newly cleared table beside ours. Her face lights up when she sees me, probably mirroring my own.

“Hey,” she says, looking up at me as I approach.

“Hey.” My smile slips out, along with a sense of relief at having her in my presence again. I resist the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her, not sure what she’s comfortable with in front of all these curious eyes. Because we have everyone’s attention. My teammates. The entire world probably after this night.

“You sure about this?” she asks, searching my eyes. I know what she means, the depth of what she’s asking. Is what we have worth the ugly? Is this happiness worth the pain?

“I’m already craving more egg-vegetable salad,” I say with a smile.

She laughs and slips her arms around my waist. “Then let’s do this.”

I pull her into me, breathing in her calming scent as I rest my lips on the top of her head. “Let’s,” I say, even though I doubt she can hear me over the commotion of the club. Everything that felt so wrong just minutes ago, now feels right. Out of the corner of my eye I see the phones waving and flashing around us, but in our private island of two nothing else matters.

“You want to meet the guys?” I ask, adjusting so she can hear me.

Her grin says it all. “I’d love to.”

CHAPTER 10

She swims with purpose from the depths below

She drifts unafraid of the dark

She holds tight to hope through the undertow

And washes ashore with a spark

GENEVIEVE

Fantasy. That’s what last night was. And maybe this morning too when I wake to warm, strong arms around me. I pull Oliver’s forearm tighter against my chest, shuddering at the thought of him releasing me in just a few minutes. He’s already stirring, and I close my eyes to enjoy another moment of bliss before confronting the reality of what last night’s indulgence cost us. Anxiety for later. For now, I focus on the thrill of our time together over the last twelve hours. We spent the night snuggled at my table in the club, laughing and talking, pretending we were alone in the universe while Brett and Walt worked hard to make sure we were. Also pretending Oliver’s teammates were friendly and polite because I was his date, not because I was Genevieve Fox. That their discreet (and non-discreet) photos of me were normal night-out behavior and it would be no big deal for me to show up at one of his workouts or host a team charity event with the other girlfriends and wives. For a few more seconds I pretend that he will leave here, go to his meetings, get cleared to train again, and things will be exactly the same today as they were yesterday.

“Morning.” Oliver’s gravelly sleep voice stirs my insides, forcing my backside to involuntarily seek him. He lets out a soft chuckle against my ear when