Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 12

  Two hours later, Michael was silently debating other jobs Kat could get that paid decently, wouldn’t keep her out at all hours of the night, and would be less likely to get her hit on every ten minutes.

  “Michael, hey. Didn’t think you came out to places like this anymore.”

  Michael turned to find Sam England, one of the sophomore tight ends and a former mentee, sitting beside him in the bench he’d taken toward the back. Kat had finally convinced—rather, ordered—him to get off his ass and move out of the way of the bar, saying he was scaring off good, paying customers. But he wouldn’t go far. Not too far anyway. He wasn’t about to let Kat try to get a cab home at God knew what time of night she’d finally leave.

  “Hey, Sam.” He scooted over a few inches until his shoulder was against the wall. “I don’t, not really. Why are you here?”

  “Gotta get out of my head, you know?” The other man grimaced and knocked two knuckles against his temple. “You told me to find the rhythm that works before a game, and this tends to be it. Just juice,” he added when he held up his tumbler. “I get laughed at, but whatever. Some guys need the quiet the night before. The quiet fucks with my head, so I find a crowd and get lost in it.”

  Since Michael was out at the bar himself—regardless of the reason—he couldn’t really argue. “Long as you’re ready to do us proud tomorrow, whatever, man.” He clinked his water glass against Sam’s and took a drink. And cringed when he heard the loud shriek of the audio system interference. “Christ, that hurt.”

  Sam just shuddered. “Nails on a chalkboard.”

  Then the redheaded bar owner stepped up onto the bar and began barking into the mic for people to shut up already so she could talk.

  “Bossy thing,” Sam muttered. “What’s been on the entertainment menu thus far?”

  “There was a chocolate pudding scavenger hunt earlier.” He grinned when Sam’s head whipped around. “Yeah, you’re too late. Clothing required, thank you very much to sanitation requirements. And before that, karaoke. Some good, some bad, some ugly.”

  “That’s the thing about the Inn… always keeps you guessing.” Sam nodded toward the bar. “You sticking around for this bit?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here for a while.” He watched as the owner motioned for a girl to stand up with her on the bar from the crowd. With the help of two gentlemen, the female patron managed to half crawl, half step on up and stand beside the redhead. She was a cute thing, in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top, and couldn’t be more than twenty-two, tops. And nervous as hell, obvious from the way she bounced on her feet and played with her hair.

  “Tonight we’re bringing back the not-so-silent auction, boys. Ladies who agreed get a month of free drinks on me. Gentlemen who bid get the chance to spend the rest of the evening with their lady of choice. That’s right, see something you like? Don’t have those pickup lines dusted off quite yet? Then take a chance and place a bet!”

  “Archaic,” Sam said. Michael just snorted into his water glass.

  “And remember, gentlemen, you’re buying time and attention, nothing more. It’s all in good, consensual fun. So let’s get started! This is Culvie.”

  “Culvie?” Michael and Sam uttered together in disbelief, then snickered.

  “Culvie’s a senior at St. John’s, a former gymnast, and…” Red leaned her head closer as Culvie whispered something in her ear. “Okay then. And she can still do the splits.”

  Hands shot in the air, waving frantically. Looking decidedly less nervous, Culvie started rocking back and forth, hip cocked on each shift, almost like she was striking a little model pose every few seconds.

  Sam groaned. Michael sighed, then looked for Kat. She was watching him. With a smile and a one-shouldered shrug, she turned her back to him to pull a beer.

  Thank God for small favors she wasn’t going to cause problems.

  Together Sam and Michael watched as numerous women were auctioned off, with varying results. The girls each had their ego stroked, and the guys felt like flexing their wallets in a bid for attention. Win-win, as far as all participants were concerned.

  “I told you from the start, we’d go to ten. Our tenth girl is Iris who… Where’d she go?” Red shielded her eyes from the light and started scanning the crowd. “Iris, going once, Iris going twice… Okay, you’ve missed your chance, girl.”

  “And that ends that game,” Sam said, rolling his empty glass between his palms. “Want another water? I’m getting another juice.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Michael passed him his glass and settled back in the booth, ready to relax for another few hours until Kat was cut and could leave.

  “I promised ten, and you’ll get ten. Here’s our tenth now. Come on up, Kitten!”

  He blinked, sat up straighter, and watched as Red tugged, and another bartender pushed until Kat, looking surprised and not all that excited, climbed up onto the bar.

  “Kitten here is our newest bartender. If you haven’t met her, then now’s your chance to welcome her to the Sin’s Inn with a bang!” Red laughed, and Kat smiled, hands on her hips. “Do a spin, Kitten, and show the men what they’re aiming for.”

  Like the nine auctions before, Michael heard several catcalls and a few coarse suggestions. And like the nine ladies before her, Kat did a quick spin, ending with her hands in the air, a grin on her face.

  She looked at home in the spotlight. She was having fun. Was the reluctance all a ploy?

  And damn it, why was he even sitting on his ass while she was up there? Standing, he began to weave his way through the crowd toward the bar.

  “Kitten here is not your garden-variety bartender. No, no, boys, and she’s not here to help her ‘work her way through college.’” Red ended this with air quotes and a wink. “She’s a special one who’s ready to ace your heart and backhand into the right man’s arms. She’s a tennis pro!”

  “Jesus Christ,” Michael growled as he threaded the needle between two men who were shouting suggestions about strip tennis and getting a good grip on their rackets. Coming to a stop at the edge of the bar, he motioned for Kat to get down.

  She didn’t even look in his direction.

  “Kitten here is guaranteed to hold you to love… in tennis anyway. But love’s not on the menu tonight, boys. Open the wallets, and let’s see how we welcome our sweet tennis-playing bartender!”

  Kat did a little runway walk down to the end of the bar and back again, clearly enjoying herself.

  Michael had to unclench his fists before they started shaking. What the hell was she doing?

  A man behind him offered a hundred, which had been the standard opening bid for almost every woman before. A few men raised it by ten or fifteen dollars each until it was just under two hundred. Nobody had received over two hundred that night.

  And through it all, Kat looked unruffled, even posing for a photo when someone held up their phone.

  When he heard Red utter the words, “Going once,” he nearly lost it and yelled out, “Two hundred fifty.”

  Kat’s eyes found his in the crowd, and hers widened a fraction in surprise. But her smile stayed in place, frozen, as if she wasn’t sure how to act.

  “Two fifty,” Red purred. “Now we’re talking.”

  “Hey, isn’t that guy famous?” someone asked to his left.

  “No, he just looks like it,” said another.

  “No, he’s a Bobcat,” a third commented.

  “Going once, going twice, sold to the Bobcat with excellent taste!” Red called out, ruining any chance Michael had of getting through the experience unrecognized.

  Or was that Kat who ruined it…

  “Kitten, go claim your prize. Or is it the other way around?”

  The bar crowd laughed, and Red signaled with her hand, and the music began to throb again. Kat stood still as a statue on top of the bar, as if she’d forgotten how to get down.

  Michael approached—the seas of humanity parting for him all of a sudden—until he reached the en
d of the bar where she stood.

  Red hopped down so she sat on the bar beside Kat’s feet, her own legs dangling over the edge. “So, looks like you scored my newest bartender. Couldn’t let her go to another fella?”

  “Is she done for the night?” he asked, still craning his neck to watch Kat’s expression. It was blank.

  “Done?”

  “I paid for her company, didn’t I? So she should be done with her shift. Cut her.”

  “Sure thing. Soon as you settle up with Diane over here, we’ll send our Kitten on her way.” Red patted his head, and he jerked out from her touch. She just laughed. “You’re a prickly one, aren’t you? No worry. I’m sure you’re more fun when you aren’t feeling the hot sting of jealousy. Take care of our Kitten. She’s a good worker.”

  If Michael had it his way, she’d never step foot inside the bar again. This place was toxic for her. But Kat climbed down—finally—behind the bar and waited while he cashed out his tab—auction price included—with the bartender named Diane. Then Kat motioned for him to wait for her outside. He knew she’d come out the side entrance after going through the employee hallway and nodded he would meet her there.

  And when he did… he’d be getting his money’s worth. Two hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of lecturing.

  Chapter 11

  “So, hi.” Kat edged the door closed behind her, shutting out the music of the bar and all the ruckus. “I’d ask how your night was going, but I think I know the answer.”

  Michael’s expression could have been carved from stone. He stood, hands in the pockets of his jacket, feet braced apart, ready for a fight.

  “Okay, so it wasn’t my best night.” Kat sighed and tucked her own hands away, walking toward him. In the dim light of the alley, he was nearly a menacing figure. For the first time, she actually felt the full weight of his potential strength that he kept well-banked around her. What that strength could do if he unleashed it. And knew, without a doubt, he’d never let it off the chain with her.

  At least not the physical portion.

  “But it was funny, you have to admit.” She slowed her steps, uncertainty taking over as he didn’t move an inch. “This was a last-minute thing. I didn’t ask to get up there. I wasn’t dying to get auctioned off like a pig at the market. But once I was up there, it seemed best to not cause a scene and go with it.”

  “Not cause a scene.” It was the first words he’d spoken since she left the building, and they made her shiver a little.

  “Well, a bigger scene,” she amended, finally reaching him. Looking up, his face was shadowed by the poor light, and she cursed that she couldn’t read his expression. See how hard his jaw was set, if his eyes were blazing with anger or if they crinkled at the corners just a little in concealed humor. “I thought throwing myself into the crowd and crowd surfing out of there would be a bigger problem than if I just enjoyed the situation and moved on.”

  “You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

  “So what if I did?” Unwilling to hear a lecture about how shallow she was or that she was an attention whore, Kat slid around him and started walking for the main road. “Sometimes it’s nice to cut loose and laugh at myself a little. Sorry if you don’t know how to enjoy life, but—”

  Whatever she was going to say was cut off abruptly as he grabbed her elbow and pulled her back against his chest. She let out a soft breath of air as she landed hard against him.

  “I know how to enjoy life.” His voice was darker than the night. His hand was warm as it crept under the polo shirt and splayed across her bare abdomen. His touch was exciting and a little daunting. “I’ve had a perfectly enjoyable, easygoing life up until now.” He nuzzled at her hair, her ear, the side of her neck. And his breath was hot on the sensitive skin just beneath her ear when he added, “You drive me insane.”

  “Th-that’s not my problem,” she managed to get out as he sucked gently on the skin there, below her hairline. Her hands trembled when they reached up and cupped the back of his neck, silently encouraging him to continue. Her other hand wrapped around his arm at her torso. “If you’re a stick-in-the-mud—”

  Michael chuckled. “Stick-in-the-mud. My friends would love that. I’ve never been a stick, that’s for sure. You just… bring out a different side in me.”

  “The stick side?” she asked, gasping a little when he grazed his teeth over her skin at the place where her neck and shoulder connected. “Oh, you mean the mud side.”

  “Brat.” His hand tightened at her stomach, fingertips grazing all over, electrifying her nerves. “I need to take you home.”

  “Why, Michael, I know you paid for my company, but I’m not that kind of girl.” She fought to keep her voice light and almost Southern belle-like. But he made it so damn hard to concentrate when he did that to her…

  “Get in the car, and don’t fight me on this. We’re going home.” His hand tightened just another second, and he nipped at her shoulder almost as a warning before letting her go and walking toward the front of the alley to the street.

  “Don’t fight me on this,” she muttered under her breath. But when he half turned his head, almost as if he’d heard her, she hustled up and followed.

  Michael knew what she was thinking. That he would bring her back to his place with him. That they’d pick up where they left off before she went to work. That he’d use the fact that he paid for her as an excuse to get her in his bed.

  Kat’s eyes were wary as he unlocked his door, then opened it. And even more so when he motioned for her to come inside with him. But there was also anticipation. And no hesitation as she followed him in.

  The second the door closed behind him, he was on her, cupping her face and kissing her deeply. Her arms immediately wrapped around him, pulling him tighter against her, pressing her own body against his.

  He backed her up against the wall beside his door, hands roaming, moving down to cup her breasts, her hips, her ass until one knee rose and he caught her under the leg to hoist her up. She grunted as her back more fully hit the wall, but not in a pained way. Not from the way she attacked his mouth.

  He nearly lost control when he felt her sweet core cradle his erection so perfectly. And that was when he knew it was time to stop. Stop before he took it too far.

  He pulled his head back, breathing hard until his forehead met hers.

  “Jesus, you know how to kiss, Manny.”

  He laughed and maybe groaned a little. The movement rubbed his cock against her, only serving as punishment for letting it go this far.

  “We have to stop.”

  “We don’t have to stop,” she countered. “There’s a bed that way, over there, if memory serves. You could use your muscles to walk me thataway.”

  “I could, but I won’t.”

  Kat turned her head to the side, dislodging his resting place and making him thump his head against the wall. Damn. Fuck, that hurt.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because… becau— Stop wiggling. I’m going to drop you.”

  “Good. Put me down, please.”

  He let go of her but kept her caged within his arms against the wall. “Would you just listen to me?”

  “Why?” She glared up at him. “I feel like this has all been some sort of sick lesson. ‘Look what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Kat. Some guy could have done a whole lot worse if he’d gotten you instead of me, Kat.’” Her lowered voice, clearly meant to emulate his, would have made him laugh if the accusation hadn’t slapped him in the face.

  “You think I brought you in here, kissed you like that, and then stopped… because I’m teaching you a damn lesson?” Fearing his anger would spin, he heaved himself away from the wall and stalked off, only to turn back again. “Don’t… no. You know what? Not tonight.”

  “Not tonight, what?” she challenged, because of course she would. Damn woman couldn’t let anything go.

  “You wanna do this now?” He crowded her then, because he wanted to see if she
’d cower back. Testing her, yeah. Testing himself too. Would he want to see her back down or face up?

  She faced up, taking a small step into his space so that her breasts brushed his chest. “Yeah. I do.” The fire there in those dark eyes sent his blood thrumming.

  “I’m not taking a woman back to my place and spending the night with her when I literally paid for her company an hour earlier. It’s underhanded and wrong. And don’t give me crap about how it’s not like that. To me, it’s wrong. I’m not a guy who can’t control himself. So this is me, controlling myself.”

  She started to speak, then closed her mouth and looked away for a moment.

  “And I don’t spend the night with anyone before a game.”

  That made her brows raise in question.

  “It’s just… shut up,” Michael muttered, stepping away and rubbing at the back of his neck. It felt hot to the touch. She did horrible things for his blood pressure. “It’s not my routine.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve never had a girlfriend during a season,” Kat said dryly. “Bull.”

  “I never said that. They just didn’t… spend the night on game nights. Okay, I don’t really want to talk about this with you right now.”

  “Oh, we can’t have the ‘exes’ talk right now?” Kat smirked, and he wanted to wipe that expression off her face with another blistering kiss. But he refrained. “Good. Then I won’t have to tell you about my time as Bertha’s prison bitch.”

  He snorted before he could stop himself.

  “Manny,” she said on a sigh, and he growled at the name. God damn, she wouldn’t let that go. “Look, if you want me to leave, just say so. If anyone’s going to get the whole pregame ritual, it’s going to be me.”

  She would, he realized. Would get the odd things athletes did for luck, for mental clarity, for the simple sweet routine of it. And probably wouldn’t mock him, no matter how stupid the superstition was. But that wasn’t all…

  “Not even gonna touch the other part of that?”

  “You want to consider yourself a man with honor.” With a roll of her eyes, she held out her hands. He noticed they weren’t entirely steady. “I can’t really complain since you basically bought my way out of work early. Now I can have a good night’s sleep before drills tomorrow morning.”