Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Tad. The real reason Scott didn’t want to leave.
Max grit his teeth. Talk about shit odds. Out of all the countless clubs around, they had to end up at the same one. Scott had spotted Tad right off the friggin’ bat, too, like he had some kind of built-in detector. No joke, they were still at the damn front doors talking to the bouncers when Scott saw him.
At first, Max hadn’t noticed Scott’s shift in attention—being civil to multiple people at once required focus—but when Kai, Scott’s friend who’d tagged along, started staring in the same direction? Max instinctively just glanced that way also. Low and behold, Tad and his crew sitting in a booth across the bar. And man, had timid Tad looked all kinds of conflicted. His expression was like a damn open book. Surprised and happy as hell to see Scott, but also ridiculously nervous. Unlike the song that’d been pulsing through the sound system, he did not have a good poker face.
Of course, Scott had wanted to go say hello, so they stopped by on the way to the bar. Tad’s friends were amusing, Max had to admit. Two inebriated lovebirds and an instigating punk. What surprised him, however, was Tad’s other companion. Point guard extraordinaire, Breck Harland. He recognized him right away, but anyone associated with George Mason would. The Patriots were not a team to be taken lightly, and Breck was a badass on the courts.
But he kept that to himself. Was too busy getting irritated at the way Tad was acting, treating Scott like nothing more than a friend. And not a good one, in Max’s opinion, because Tad still didn’t invite Scott to grab a chair. No, it was his friends that finally extended the invitation. Talk about a punch in the gut. One Max knew Scott felt. Not that Scott let it show as he graciously declined.
Max’s jaw clenched tighter. How dare Tad treat Scott that way.
And what’s worse, how dare Scott take it.
One of the six bartenders behind the counter hustled by, slowing just marginally on his drive-by. “Need another shot?” he asked, gesturing to Max’s glass.
Max nodded once.
“Alright, cool. Be right back.”
Max watched him shuffle off, giving the guy his standard assessment. Mid-twenties dirty blond with a nice, lean body. The kind who’d typically hold his attention. Not the case tonight, though. And thank fuck for it. His brain needed some off-time. Come to think of it, so did his chest.
He took another swig of his ice cold beer, glancing at Scott and Kai to his right. Scott was shooting the shit with a dark-haired bartender. Kai was placing an order with one of the waitresses. She looked toward Tad’s table, then back at Kai, grinning with a nod before leaving. Next thing Max knew, she had a tray full of shooters and was sashaying her way over to Tad’s gang. Beside him, Kai was grinning from ear to ear.
Max quirked a brow, wondering what the guy was up to. Because his expression wasn’t devious, per se, more like he was just having some harmless fun. But with Tad and his friends? What was Max missing? Why not spend his money on a prospect? Some hottie Kai scoped out and wanted to get with.
Max’s question was answered not thirty seconds later when Mr. Hot-shot Point-Guard Breck shot ramrod stiff. Guess he wasn’t amused by Kai’s blatant innuendo, since those blowjob shooters were clearly Kai’s personal present. Max’s lips curved wryly. Looked like Kai was going after what he wanted after all. Max wondered if Breck even swung that way.
Curious, he studied the subtleties of Breck’s body language. Only took him a few seconds to spot the signs. How he sat visibly straighter, knowing that Kai was watching him. How he fiddled with his earlobe, kept rubbing his mouth. He was rolling his beer bottle pretty incessantly now, too. And when he randomly glared Kai’s way, his lips parted. Max’s grin turned knowing. Would you look at that. Birthday boy’s got a secret—and Kai knows it.
Max’s amusement dimmed fast, though. Those kind of secrets pissed him off. He turned his gaze to his comrades. Kai had an arm draped over Scott’s shoulder. Scott was laughing at something Kai was spouting. Max’s irritation ebbed at the jovial sight. His friend was having fun. Wasn’t letting Tad get him down. That’s my boy. Max almost smiled.
“Here you go, man.” Dirty Blond dropped off his shot. “Sorry that took so long. Need another beer?”
Max eyed his longneck. Nearly empty. Screw it. He hadn’t been buzzed in forever. Nodding, he downed his Jameson in one fell swoop, then pointedly held up his empty shot glass.
Dirty Blond smiled. “One of each, comin’ up.”
Max didn’t smile back. Just turned and scanned the crowd. Perfect night for people watching. Too bad the only person he wanted to watch was—he clenched his jaw. Nope. Not fucking going there. Tonight was his respite from that kid. From him and all the rest of the bullshit. Who knew, maybe if he got himself plastered he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep. Because, no, Scott hadn’t been lying about the nightmares, which meant, yes, Max was perpetually tired.