Page 8 of Filthy Player
I grinned. She grinned back.
“I should probably go find Paulie, huh?”
“Um. Well, when I saw him he was rushing to help Beaux.”
“Great.”
I walked around her and she called my name.
“What?”
“Well, I mean… would it really be bad to have him get in your pants anyway?” She smiled and her gaze did that hazy, glossing thing. “He was really sexy in a soaking wet shirt. Imagine how good he’d look out of it.”
I laughed despite myself. “You’re a nut, Hannah.”
I opened the door and walked through as she yelled, “Yeah, but I’m a nut who gets laid!”
That girl. I was still shaking my head and laughing as I went in search of Paulie.
He was easy to find once I stepped out of the break room just off the hallway that led to the restrooms.
“What are you thinking girl?” he all but shouted, gaining the attention of several customers walking by us or seated at the nearby tables. “Beaux Hale? Of the Rough Riders? Did you have a brain fart tonight and forget who you were serving when you threw a pitcher of water all over him?”
“I’m really sorry, Paulie, I really am.” I gave him the most apologetic expression I could muster. “I slipped.”
“Slipped?” he blustered and repeated himself. “Slipped? You slipped? On what, your brain? You can’t go dumping water on the Rough Rider’s quarterback and not expect that to hit the news! No one will come anymore if the team stops coming.”
I choked back a laugh and pressed my lips together. Pissed off Paulie was sort of entertaining. Unfortunately, I preferred him when he wasn’t shouting at me, especially when I deserved it.
“She did,” a deep voice said and all my humor instantly evaporated. “She did slip. Honestly sir, it was my fault.”
Um. What?
Paulie turned and his jaw dropped as both of us stood, staring at Beaux. His hands were slid into suit pants and he was now wearing a dry and slightly wrinkled white dress shirt. Huh.
His hair was still a bit wet, and for a brief second, I almost felt bad for what I did to him. Then I remembered what he said and I glared at him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hale?”
“Beaux, please.” He lifted a hand and turned his stupid charming smile on Paulie. “She was right behind our table and I had jumped back, hitting her. Honestly, like I said earlier, it wasn’t a problem, and like I just said, totally my fault. I didn’t mean to bump into her, it just happened.”
I scowled at him. He swooped the wind and anger out of Paulie’s sails with one simple little lie. Now what did he want from me?
“That true?” Paulie asked, and his gaze flickered between us. He was as doubtful as he should be, but not exactly like he could argue.
I shrugged. “I told you I slipped.”
He huffed, his belly jiggling like a shopping mall Santa Claus. “Okay, then,” he said and pointed a finger at me. “Last chance.”
“I’ll do better, Paulie. I promise.”
“Damn straight you will, young lady.” He walked away back to the restaurant’s bar where he kept his eyes on the staff.
I tried to breathe, but everything was still stuck in my chest. When Paulie left, Beaux had moved until he was close enough to remind me how much I liked his cologne.
Stupid men.
“Thanks,” I muttered, refusing to look at him. “I appreciate it.”
