Aiden eyes him with an annoyed expression.
“Saige,” I correct.
“Sorry. What’s up, Saige?” Ford overemphasizes my name.
“What’s your superstition about sex?”
Ford’s eyebrows scrunch. “As in how it will affect my game?”
I nod.
“The more the better. I need to have sex in order to have a great game. One time I had three women at once and I had the best game of my life.” He winks at me.
“Told you,” Aiden says under his breath.
“So it’s normal for athletes to have this superstition?”
Ford looks at Aiden as though he needs his permission to respond. Aiden nods. “Of course. Some only fuck when they win, others refrain during the playoffs, others won’t have it with one regular woman, others only do regulars. For some, it can be a specific woman for a specific city we’re playing in. It varies.”
I shake my head. “Unbelievable.” I sip the champagne that’s not good at all. I’d much prefer my white wine, but I don’t plan to be here much longer.
“Why is it unbelievable?” Aiden asks.
Joran’s phone rings again and he excuses himself. Seriously? He doesn’t even care to stick around to see exactly what the superstition is? Good thing I’m not invested in what’s happening between us.
Aiden’s knee touches mine and I suck in a breath before I say, “You guys use women.”
“Whoa!” Ford raises his hands. “We’re getting used too. Most of those women don’t care about us at all. They only want to brag they had us in the sack. Like your friend Tedi.” Ford raises a questioning eyebrow.
Aiden says nothing, but I can almost read what he’s thinking. Tedi has a fuck-it bucket list.
I concede that point. “Sure, okay, but they can’t all be like that. I’m sure you’ve broken some hearts.”
Ford moves his head side to side. “Who’s to say my heart hasn’t been broken?” He can’t even keep a straight face before bursting out laughing. “There are all kinds of hockey players. There are some married men, guys who have steady girlfriends or boyfriends, some like Drake here who finally believes in superstitions and is having his agent’s girlfriend throw wine in his face.” He shakes his head as though he’s disappointed in Aiden.
“I’m not Joran’s girlfriend,” I clarify, and immediately wish I could take back the words.
Just then, Joran returns to stand at the end of the table. “Hey, I’m sorry. I gotta go. One of my clients is in trouble.” Joran leans over the table and kisses my cheek. “You’ll get her home safe, Aiden?”
Everyone at the table is silent.
“I’m sure Drake can handle that, right?” Ford claps Aiden on the back, laughing and sliding out of the booth. “Always a fire to put out, right, Joran?” He doesn’t wait for Joran to say anything before leaving us.
“I’ll get her home,” Aiden says, his eyes on his beer, his fingers picking at the label.
“Thanks, man. And way to go. Keep it up until trade deadlines and we’ll have tremendous bargaining power at the end of the year.”
Then Joran leaves, out the door as though he was never here in the first place.
I push away my champagne. “What is he talking about… trade deadlines?”
“Hey, Brielle,” Aiden calls to the waitress. She turns before heading back to the bar. “Can you get Saige a white wine, please?”
“Actually, I’ll have a vodka soda with a lime.”
Brielle smiles and nods.
“So is that your drink?” Aiden asks.
“Answer my question first.”
He stops twirling his beer bottle around. “Trade deadlines are at the end of February. Rumor is if I don’t pick up my game, I’ll be traded to another team.”
“Just because you’re in a slump—as you say,” I’m quick to add.
He picks up his head and smiles at me as if I’m some innocent little girl who amuses him. “You don’t perform, they don’t want you. It’s as easy as that.”
I can tell he’s hurt by the possibility.
I reach my hand out but retract it before I touch him. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Exactly why I need you to throw a drink in my face before every game.” He looks at me with a hopeful expression.
“There’s no possible way that’s the reason your game turned around. It’s ridiculous.”
“But it’s the only thing out of the ordinary. And… we did it again and it worked.”
“Can I think about it?” I ask. “I mean, how would it even work with out-of-town games?”
“I’d be paying a shit-load to get you flights and hotel rooms, and for the rest of this season, you’d get to travel free.”
“I couldn’t allow you to do that.”
“Why? I’m gaining the benefit.” He sips his beer as Brielle brings me my drink.
“Thanks,” I tell her, and she smiles. “When is your next game?” I ask Aiden, thinking I’ll have a few days to consider it.
“Day after next, then I’m on the road for five days.”
“Aiden, I have a job.”
“A job you can do from anywhere, right?”
I sip my drink and stare at the lime twirling in the ice cubes. It’s a hard decision because even though I don’t believe it, I know he truly does think the drink in the face is helping him perform. Plus, I’m not stupid. I know what’ll happen when he doesn’t need me anymore. I’ll be cast aside like I was with Jeremy. And Maverick for that matter. Even if Aiden and I aren’t an item, the way my heart races in Aiden’s presence tells me I’ll be heartbroken again.
“I think I’m going to get going.” I open my purse, but Aiden gets his wallet out first and throws a few twenties on the table.
“Let’s go.” He stands and puts his hands in his slacks pockets.
It’s so unfair that a man can look that good in a suit. So unfair that I can’t let myself indulge in said man. “You don’t have to take me home.”
“Joran asked, and I agreed. Plus, I wasn’t about to let you go home by yourself. I mean…” The color in his cheeks deepen and I smile at how shy he comes across sometimes.
“I know what you meant. Thank you.”
We walk out of Carmelo’s and he pulls out his phone to grab an Uber. “I’d drive, but if I get pulled over smelling like wine, it won’t be good.”
Ten minutes later, the Uber arrives, and we slide into the back of a sedan. His body is so large, takes up so much space, that I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like over mine.
Damn it, I need to remember my mantra about professional athletes. You’d think I would’ve learned that lesson already.
Chapter Seven
Aiden
I’ve tried to give Saige until the very last second, but I’m on the way to the game now, and if she doesn’t throw a drink in my face before I take the ice, I’m screwed.
My phone rings as I drive toward her office with the hope that she’s still there.