Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,58

party.”

“That stinks.”

“Nah. Wearing a tux impresses girls. They like it.”

“Ew. Why do you want to impress girls so much?”

“When you’re older, you’ll spend most of your day trying to impress a girl.”

“Not me.” He shook his head.

“Even you.”

“No way!” Sebastian jumped higher and nearly flew off the bed. I caught him before he impaled himself in my drywall. “When I’m older, girls are gonna impress me.”

Oh, the naivety of youth.

“You think that, little man, but trust me…” I fit the jacket over my shoulders and surveyed the damage in the mirror. At least it covered the bruises from training camp. I almost looked respectable. “One day you’re gonna find a girl you like, and you’ll turn into a complete idiot because of it.” I pointed at him. “So, for God’s sake, make sure she’s the perfect girl.”

“Why?”

So he didn’t end up like me—ignoring calls from a crazy ex-girlfriend who thought she had a right to make any demands of me.

I’d deleted three voice mails from Victoria this week. If we were lucky that’d be the most I’d hear from her.

“Okay. How do I look?” I spun for the kid.

“Still stupid.”

“That’s good enough for me.” I shoo’ed him from my room and back to my mother who was far more supportive.

“Oh…” She held a hand over her chest. “Gosh, how handsome you are!”

The compliments were backhanded. She immediately wet her finger and rubbed an invisible spot on my cheek, brushed non-existent lint from my jacket, and re-did my bow-tie.

“She called again,” Mom straightened my sleeves. I stopped her before she jiggled the pants to see if they fit right. “Maybe we should get a lawyer.”

“Not necessary,” I said. “Victoria can’t do a damn thing.”

“You have to think about what’s best for this family.”

“This is what’s best. Don’t answer if she calls. She only wants money.”

“We hope.”

“Don’t worry.” I mused Sebastian’s hair. “I’ll take care of it. Right now, I gotta go to this gala thing.”

“Meeting Elle there?” Mom gave me that knowing smile and wink. Christ, she’d make me fucking blush.

“That’s the plan,” I said. “Thanks for bringing the tux over.”

“She’ll be charmed, I’m sure.”

Fingers crossed. I needed any break I could get.

Elle had acted stranger than usual this week, and I didn’t think it was just her illness. Both of us were stressed at the field. I had a right to be—blown plays, coaches in my face, the upcoming exhibition game. But Elle wasn’t getting reamed out on television by Ainsley Ruport and all of Sports Nation. She kept whatever was bothering her close to her chest.

And she wouldn’t tell me.

Or couldn’t. Whatever got her sick settled in her throat. She’d squeaked the whole damn practice through a bad case of laryngitis.

All the more reason to make sure she had fun tonight.

Jack’s formal gala was a charity event for his personal foundation which helped children suffering from leukemia. Apparently, he’d lost his little brother to the disease a few years ago. He took the charity seriously, but he was Jack Carson, and he never missed an opportunity for a party.

I arrived in style. Alone. But in style. Fortunately, most of the team had already filled the ball-room. I expected some high-class, pinky-finger raised sipping tea sort of event.

But, for ten-thousand dollars a head, the party was wild. The ballroom pumped with music and swaying lights—a club scene complete with flashing floors and the occasional haze of a smoke machine near a dance floor. It filled with people in evening gowns and tuxedos, grinding to a hard beat.

My kind of party.

And not the sort of shindig that suited Cole Hawthorne. He sat at a corner table with a scowl. His hair had been pulled into a respectable ponytail, but the tux was one Hulk-smash away from ripping off his body. Piper tugged on his arm, trying to pull him to the dance floor.

“Come on.” Her gold skirts puffed out—the real-deal ball gown fit for a princess. “You dance at home.”

“Yeah, with the meatball.”

“Please?” Piper gave him a sly grin and patted her swelling tummy. “What about our other meatball?”

“Go on, Cole!” I grinned at him. He didn’t like that. “If you don’t dance with her, I will.”

Piper took my arm. “See. Some of my clients know how to treat their agent.”

Cole scoffed. “Yeah, knowing Lachlan, that dance will end after midnight, when you’ve both crossed the border with warrants out for your arrest. Let her go, rookie.”

Instantly. I wasn’t getting between The Beast and his pregnant woman. That was grounds for