“You should talk to her,” I press.

  Avery deserves to have a person like Addie in her life. No matter how Addie feels about JJ, she’d step up and be the role model his daughter needs if asked.

  “Yeah,” he says, this time nodding like he might actually consider it.

  “So what are we drinking?” Josie asks as she picks up a menu. “And who are we doing tonight?”

  Finn rubs his hands together. “So it’s that kind of night, huh?”

  I shake my head and sigh. There’s no way I’m having sex tonight. I already did the research for the article. But as I snag my own menu, an idea comes to me, and I straighten in my seat. “Oh, you’re both men.”

  Josie shoots me a glare. “We already established that you can’t do them.”

  JJ pushes back from me, like he really thinks that’s what I’m after.

  With a groan, I punch him in the arm. “I’m not going to seduce you, goalie. I’m doing research and I think you could help.”

  He rubs his arm and frowns. “How?”

  Finn waggles his brows. “I’m down to be seduced if that’s the kind of help you need. I’m a team player.”

  Josie smacks his chest. “Shut up, Little Langfield.”

  “I’m the same age as you.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she says with a huff. “That’s what my brother calls you, so that’s your nickname. And no one is getting into Sav’s panties.”

  True. Because once again, I’m not wearing any.

  “And I don’t need that kind of help,” I say, keeping the panty info to myself. “What you could do to help, though, is give me a list of your turnoffs.” I pull out my phone and swipe up on the screen, then navigate to the notes app.

  Finn slouches. “I’d really rather discuss what turns me on.”

  “I haven’t dated in a long-ass time,” JJ mutters.

  Josie breaks into a smirk. “Did you even date Tabby?”

  “Ha ha,” he deadpans. “But she’s got a point. I didn’t, so I’m probably not much help.”

  Sighing, I flop back against the booth. “Fine. Finn, that means you’re my only hope. C’mon. I’m sure in all the time you’ve been chased by ball bunnies, you’ve met some crazies.”

  With a chuckle, he scratches his head, making his messy hair even more chaotic. “JJ probably has equally scary stories, but yeah, one time I walked into a hotel room to pick up a girl for a date, but when I got there, she had balloon animals all over the bed.”

  Humming, I take a minute to conjure the image. “I could actually see you liking that.”

  Finn’s eyes light up. “The tiger was freaking phenomenal,” he gushes. But a second later, his expression sours. “The balloon letters on the bed, though…The ‘eat my pussy cat…’” He shudders. “Not so much.”

  A cackle escapes me before I can stop it. “Holy shit.”

  JJ bursts into laughter too. “I can totally see it.”

  “She was upset that I didn’t appreciate her hard work.” Finn shakes his head roughly, like he’s trying to shake the memory from his mind.

  “Dating in the Pinterest era,” Josie mutters. “It’s not for the faint of heart.”

  “Honestly, all I ever wanted was someone who was kind and good and who didn’t care about my last name.” JJ shrugs, his posture sagging.

  Damn. I can’t help but feel for the guy. What he’s describing really doesn’t feel like much, yet he clearly doesn’t think that’s what he got with Tabitha.

  “Yeah, or someone who isn’t obsessed with their ex,” Finn says. “I’ve dated quite a few of those. Like I don’t need to hear about your last date or your high school boyfriend who you are totally over,” he adds, using a high-pitched voice.

  “I once had a girl photoshop us on vacations together,” Josie says, elbows on the table.

  JJ barks out a laugh. “Oh fuck. Bobby dated a chick a few months ago who made an entire video of their future wedding.”

  I suck in a harsh breath. “No way.”

  Laughing, he pulls out his phone. “Give me a sec. I’ll find it.”

  The sound of heavy boots tapping against the floor cuts through our laughter, drawing my attention. I turn toward the source and come face to face with a gorgeous man wearing a fuck-me smirk. As he approaches our table, I drink him in. He’s got dark hair and a tan skin tone, and his whiskey-colored eyes are zeroed in on me.

  “Theo, you made it.” Finn waves the guy over.

  I glance at Josie, whose jaw is just as slack as mine.

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late. I was having drinks with my dad to celebrate the new barrel we’re rolling out.”

  I arch a brow. “Barrel?”

  Finn sits forward, nodding. “Yeah, Theo’s family owns James Whiskey.”

  “You’re Theo James?” My flabbers are ghasted.

  Maybe I should have recognized him. The billionaire son of Cash James—the pretty boy NFL quarterback who wears cowboy boots to every game, the Cowboy Quarterback, as he’s often called—is in almost every magazine. Every one but ours, I guess, considering that his aunt Catherine Bouvier, our editor in chief, is married to the owner of James Whiskey’s biggest rival.

  Yeah, definitely should have recognized him on the spot. Pretty sure he’s even on a billboard just outside Lang Field. I think he’s holding a bottle of whiskey in the photo. I know he’s wearing his signature cowboy boots. I glance down at his feet now, confirming he’s got them on. Yep. I almost ask if I can get a closer look at them. They’re pretty famous. Maybe more than even him. Especially in the fashion world.

  He holds out his hand to me, seemingly not realizing how interested I am in his footwear. “I am, and you are?”

  “Your date for the night,” Josie tells him.

  Eyes flashing with amusement, he grins down at me. “Sounds like it’s my lucky night, then.”

  I bite my lip and survey him, confirming that the interest there is genuine. I guess I’m going on another date.

  As this gorgeous man leads me to the bar, though, my traitorous mind wanders to the last man who touched me. It’s ridiculous, really. I doubt Camden has thought of me since our night together.

  FOURTEEN

  CAMDEN

  “Thanks for tonight.” Gemma waltzes past me, winking as she goes.

  One by one, women in thin camisoles or bralettes and the shortest shorts ever created head for my front door.

  I did not expect to be greeted by a house full of half-naked women when I got home, but I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “I thought your class was last night,” I say to Cora as another of her friends appears at the top of the basement stairs.

  I don’t know her name, but there’s no forgetting her face. She’s the dancer from my party last week.

  “Yeah,” my sister says, “but it was so good we decided to have one more before I head back to Vegas.” She tips her water bottle back and takes a long gulp.

  Her friend stops in front of me, her expression curious. “Hey, Cam, your girlfriend here?”

  Behind her, my sister nearly spits out a mouthful of water.

  Can’t blame her, I guess, since I haven’t had a girlfriend in close to thirty years.

  “Not tonight,” I say, though I’m hoping to change that once this parade of women disappears.

  The brunette who’s wearing little more than she was the other night pouts. “Would you ask her to come to one of your sister’s classes? I’d love to see her dance.”

  The thought is enticing, that’s for sure. But while the memory of the other night is one I never want to forget, I’m not sure I want to share Savannah. At least not for a while.

  I’m still irritated that she left while I was sleeping, though I guess it was just as well, considering my sister called while I was still blinking my eyes open. I was out of bed and on a plane within the hour, and I haven’t stopped since.

  “I don’t even want to know,” Cora mutters as her friend closes the front door behind her.

  There’s no fighting my smirk. “No, you don’t.”

  Laughing, she drops her head back, her long blond hair swaying.

  The sound is like a bolt of joy straight to my heart. Until a few years ago, I thought she’d lost the ability to laugh like that for good. We’ve come a long way since then, though.

  “You have time for dinner?” she asks. “My plane doesn’t leave until ten.”

  This is what I hate most about this arrangement. I fly home and she has to fly back.

  My twin and I are finally on speaking terms after years of no communication, yet we can’t have a true relationship because one of us always has to be in Vegas.

  Fortunately for me, at least, Cora is willing to be there most of the time.

  Still, I’m exhausted from my week there. The travel and less than desirable sleeping arrangements are nothing compared to the mental toll these weeks inflict.

  “Yeah, but let me hop in the shower first.”

  An hour later, we step into a restaurant that’s right around the corner from the arena.

  “Camden,” the hostess says when she spots me. “Want your usual table?”

  She assesses my sister, probably trying to figure out whether this is a work thing or something a little more personal. I rarely come here without the guys, so her reaction isn’t surprising.

  “Sure. Thanks, Ry.” I rest a hand on Cora’s back and guide her toward the hostess stand. “This is my sister Cora.”

  As Ryanne leads us to our table, we pass person after person dressed in business attire. Most have probably just gotten off work and are starting their weekend off by letting loose a little. I, on the other hand, can’t wait to get home to bed.

  After some much needed rest, I’ll call Savannah and make plans to see her again. Hopefully tomorrow night.

  “A bunch of the guys are here, though I haven’t seen any of the coaches tonight,” Ry says as she guides us past the bar. I’m too tired to put on a smile and talk business anyway, so I keep my focus ahead, hoping like hell no one spots me.

  “Oh,” Cora whispers, her tone full of mirth. “Any players you can introduce me to? Wouldn’t mind having a boy toy lined up for my next visit.”

  With a sharp exhale, I glare at my sister. Being a sex therapist means she’s got zero filter, and she’s a huge proponent of an age gap. I can only imagine what she’ll have to say when she finally meets Savannah. It’ll probably include a diatribe about how I’m working out some of my own daddy issues.

  Dammit. I really don’t want to have my sister’s commentary in my head next time Savannah moans that name.

  I’ve thought about it every night this week, while lying in bed alone. Before her, I’d never asked a woman to call me Daddy, but fuck if the moment she said it, my dick didn’t grow a size.

  “Cam,” a deep voice calls from my left.

  Since I’ve already been spotted, I force a smile and search for the source of the voice. My expression turns genuine when I discover Finn Langfield walking my way. I’ve known him since he was a kid. Back when he came to Bolts games to support his uncles, Aiden and Brooks. His mom married their brother Beckett, the CEO of the entire Langfield enterprise, when he was little. Kid is huge now, but he’s still got the same affable personality.

  “Finn, hey.”

  As he shakes my hand, he eyes my sister just like the hostess did. Yeah, it’s rare I show up anywhere with a woman, and very few people know much about my personal life, including my twin’s existence, so I understand the confusion.

  “This is my sister Cora,” I say. “Cora, this is Finn Langfield, catcher for the Boston Revs.”

  As she slips her hand into his, she smirks. “Large hands,” she murmurs with a wink in my direction.

  Fucking A.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I had no idea Cam had a sister,” Finn says with a smile. “You want to join us? JJ’s here, though I’m sure he’ll bounce soon, and Bray just arrived with Bobby and Royal, and Ollie’s on the way.”

  “Don’t forget me,” a female voice says from behind him.

  When Josie peeks around his large frame, my first thought is of Savannah. Is she here too? My heart jumps as I covertly scan our surroundings.

  “Hey, Uncle Cam,” Josie says, leaning in and giving me a hug.

  As I release her, she scrutinizes Cora, and I once again introduce her.

  “Just you tonight?” I ask, hoping like hell no one catches on to my eagerness.

  “Savvy was with us,” Finn grumbles, “but Theo stole her away.”

  My damn heart drops. “Theo?” I scan the restaurant more thoroughly, searching for the redheaded vixen. What kind of game is she playing?

  Josie grins. “Yup.” She points to the bar. “Right over there. Aw, they look so cozy together. They’d make beautiful babies, don’t you think?”

  I whip back around, frowning at the sarcasm, only to find her smiling innocently. She was a lot fucking nicer when she was a kid.

  Then, because I can’t help myself, I turn back to the bar. And what I see has my blood running cold. Why the fuck does another man have his hands on my girl?

  FIFTEEN

  SAVANNAH

  Calliope’s Column

  It’s Not Him, It’s You (Kind Of)

  Rule Number 2: Talk About Yourself, Not Your Ex…and Definitely Don’t Flirt with him in Front of Your Date.

  It’s truly a pity that the men I’ve met for this project are so damn interesting.

  I have a job to do, though, so unfortunately, Theo James and his beautiful smile will have to pay the price.

  The key to all of this is to actually have chemistry with the person I chase away. Sutton is a desirable, intelligent woman. There’s no way she doesn’t recognize true chemistry.

  Her issue is that she’s too eager.

  Tonight, my goal is to hook Theo. I’ll flirt with him, get him to ask me on a date. Then the next time we meet, I’ll flip the script. I’ll cry on his shoulder, weeping about my ex. It’ll be perfect.

  I’ve got the title of the article written and everything.

  Talk About Yourself, Not Your Ex.

  I’ve mentally added Finn’s balloon animal thing to my list of faux pas, but I won’t be using that technique on Theo fucking James. Just the thought of the mortification that would come along with it has my cheeks heating.

  Fortunately, my goal tonight is to relax and flirt with him, which, it turns out, is not hard at all.

  “So Vegas?” He hums, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Do you miss it?”

  We’re in the middle of the whole where did you grow up? portion of the get-to-know-you game. It’s slightly unfair, I suppose, since everyone knows the Jameses are Boston royalty and that these are his stomping grounds.

  “I prefer the seasons,” I say honestly. What I don’t mention is that the only way I’d return to Vegas is against my will, kicking and screaming the whole way. Every memory I have of that place is tinged with sadness.

  He takes a sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving me. “Nashville’s beautiful this time of year. You should come visit.”

  He plays for the pro team in Nashville, though he assures me he travels to Boston at least monthly, as if that’s a future concern of mine.

  “I’m more of a city girl.”

  He grins. “You ever been to Nashville?” he asks. “It is a city. And it’s the perfect place to visit in the winter, when the weather is fucking miserable here.”

  I shake my head. “I love the winters here. Give me snow and a roaring fire any day of the week.”

  His eyes, the same shade as his drink, dip to my lips. “That could be arranged.”

  I swallow back a huff. Only a billionaire would assume he could manipulate the fucking weather to get a woman into bed.

  I take a sip of my vodka soda, chastising myself for being so judgmental. He’s a nice guy, and he’s making an effort to get to know me. I’m supposed to be flirting with him so I can get that much-needed date.

  It wasn’t this hard with Camden. Not even close. The conversation flowed so easily. It may have turned ridiculous at points, but there were no awkward silences and no grasping for topics to discuss.

  Here I go again, thinking of the man who’s already forgotten me.

  “I’m a big fan of music, though,” I say, pushing thoughts of Camden from my mind. “So I’m sure I’d love Nashville.”

  “So you haven’t been, then?”

  “Nope. I haven’t traveled much. I moved here after college and never left.”

  “And outside of working for my aunt,” he asks, “what do you do for fun?”

  “Pole dancing,” I say with a smile.

  Of course, that answer immediately makes me think of Camden again. This is getting absurd.

  Coughing, Theo sets his glass down a little too hard. “What?”

  A laugh bubbles out of me. “I take pole dancing classes at a gym down the street from my apartment. It’s a really good workout.”

  He breaks into a smile so pretty it hurts. “I’m sure it is. Maybe I should try it. You think you could show me how to do it?”

  Shrugging, I bite down on my lip, turning up the flirtation a notch. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

  “The fuck it can,” a low voice growls.

  Before I can turn, my chair is being yanked back. I’m gripping the seat on either side of me to keep from wobbling when a hard-jawed Camden Snow comes into view.

  His tone shouldn’t make me wet. The possessive attitude is ridiculous after he failed to call me for six freaking days. Yet I have to squeeze my thighs together so I don’t leave a mark on the seat.

  “What the fuck?” Theo says from my other side. “Savannah, do you know this guy?”

  “This guy,” Camden grits out, his expression lethal. “Go on, baby girl, tell him who I am.”

  The way my mouth almost forms the word should be criminal. I will not say it. He doesn’t get that title.

  Has he lost his damn mind? Have I?