Intercepted (Page 18)

Say what now? #BetterCallBeckyWiththeRedHair

“I’m acting like a slut. For what? Sitting here?” I can’t believe what’s happening. I look to Gavin to see if he’s witnessing this too, or if I’m in a tequila-induced hallucination. But when the same cold grip that grabbed me earlier strikes again, I know this is just the latest chapter in Marlee’s Great Misadventure.

I’m about to tell him where he can shove his hand, but Gavin beats me to the punch.

Literally.

One second Chris is sitting next to me, grabbing my arm, and the next I’m free, and he’s standing several feet away from me, nose to nose with Gavin.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Gavin whispers so low, it’s a miracle I can hear him over the music.

“You Captain Save-A-Ho now, Pope?” Chris was never too smart, and he’s an idiot when it comes to reading people. Like right now? If I were him, I’d shut up because Gavin looks about ready to explode. But he keeps going. “She’s not worth the effort.”

I mean, come on now. I’m right here! Is this stomp on Marlee night? Because I know I didn’t include that in any of the promotions I designed.

“You should stop talking.” Gavin speaks for everyone watching, which, unfortunately for me, is everyone in the player section.

Chris doesn’t listen.

“She’s a boring fuck. I only kept her around for appearances, but if you really want a go at her, we can compare notes later.”

First? Rude.

Second? Screw you, Alexander.

I get he’s having some weird testosterone showdown in front of the rest of their gang, but I can’t believe Chris would say something so vulgar. Did all of these years mean so little to him he doesn’t care about me at all? He cheated on me. I did nothing to deserve to be on the receiving end of his vile behavior.

All of the anger I’ve been suppressing these past two weeks makes a sudden reappearance. I shoot to my feet, fully intending to give Chris a piece of my mind. But before I reach him, Gavin’s fist lands square into Chris’s nose with a sickening crunch. Chris, not one to stay sober at an event like this and always one for dramatics, falls to the ground upon impact and holds his nose as blood leaks from the sides of his hands. He rolls around on the floor, moaning so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if the valet attendant could hear him.

Gavin, on the other hand, is calm as ever as he pulls his sleeves and turns to find me in the crowd. When he spots me, he walks toward me until he’s few feet in front of me. He looks a little nervous, which in turn makes me really nervous.

“Did you come with Dre and Naomi?”

I was expecting something between a friendly farewell and stay the hell away from me, but not that. “Umm . . . Uber?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

How he’s so proper in the middle of pure chaos is throwing me off. I want to answer him, but I can’t stop looking behind him at Chris’s hunched figure on the floor, or the accusatory eyes of just about every woman watching.

“Telling,” I manage to respond.

“Okay.” He nods. “I don’t know if you want to stay and leave with them later, but I’m heading out now. I can give you a ride or sit with you until your Uber driver gets here.”

“I can Uber it. I live downtown, I’d hate for you to have to drive out of your way.” I was planning on leaving with Dre and Naomi, but after the scene that just played out, I’d rather leave sooner than later.

“I live downtown too. Why don’t you ride with me so I’ll know you made it home okay?”

“You do? I figured you lived in Parker with all of—”Courtney cuts me off, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around to face her. Because my encounter with Chris wasn’t painful enough.

“Are you happy, Marlee? We’re going to lose sponsors and money because you couldn’t just stay at home and mind your own business.” She stops and moves her narrowed eyes toward Gavin. “And I’m so disappointed in you, Gavin. I don’t expect much from her, but you should know better. I can’t believe Coach Jacobs replaced Kevin with someone who would fight a teammate. Kevin would never behave the way you have tonight.”

“You’re right,” Gavin says. Courtney’s eyes widen with surprise—her forehead still doesn’t move—and it’s clear to anyone around us she approached us looking for another fight. “Kevin would never stick up for a woman who’s being harassed. Which is the reason I was brought in. Your husband lacks the integrity and leadership it takes to have a winning team.” He turns his back on her and completely blocks her from my vision. “So are you riding with me?” he asks, like Courtney never happened.

“Dear god. I need wine.” I ignore his question. I clearly do not share his ability to ignore everything going on around us.

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

I nod, watching the smile cross his face before he reaches for my hand and guides me to the bar.

“White or red?” he asks me when the bartender approaches us.

“With alcohol.” Because after the way this night has played out, I have no right to be picky.

“Can she have a bottle of your most popular wine, please?” Gavin asks the bartender, who happily agrees. Both men are looking at me with huge grins on their faces, and the bartender is laughing! Apparently he was one of the unlucky few who didn’t see what just happened. If he had, he’d be looking much more sympathetic and handing me a bottle of Patron.

He’s walking away when I remember one very important detail and yell after him, “Make sure it’s a twist lid!”

“A twist lid bottle of wine? Really?” Gavin says beside me.

“Yes, really. Do you have a corkscrew in your truck?”

He’s full on laughing at me when Mr. Bartender comes back with a bottle in his hand, its metal lid gleaming under the lights.

“It’s not our most popular, but it’s the only one I could find that didn’t have a cork.”

“Do I seem like my standards are sky-high right now? This is perfect.” I start looking through my clutch trying to find my card, because I’m guessing unopened bottles of wine aren’t covered by the open bar. “How much?”

“It’s covered,” he says at the same moment I pull out my card. I look to the bartender and the smile on his face has grown tenfold, something I understand when I see the hundred-dollar bill in front of him.

“You really didn’t need to do that, I can pay.” Which might be a lie. I stretched my budget to the max at the mall today, and there’s a good chance my card might be declined.

“I know, but I wanted to.” His fingers find their way between mine again, and he gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “Grab your wine, boozer. Let’s go.”

I go.

But not because he said so. Because with an ass like his? I can’t imagine there’s any place I wouldn’t follow him.

#HisAssMadeMeDoIt

Thirteen

“You’re really nice,” I slur. We’re waiting for the valet to bring Gavin’s truck around, and it feels like the fresh Colorado air has increased my alcohol level from drunk to trashed . . . and I still haven’t cracked open my wine.

“You’re pretty nice too.” He’s watching me closely, and I’m trying to watch him closely. His eyes are crinkled with amusement; mine are struggling to focus.