Nate side-eyed me. “Says the man who moved to a whole new country by himself, knowing no one, when he waseighteen. Hell, you couldn’t even buy booze till you were twenty-one here. Must have sucked knowing I was getting wasted legally.”
His words had the desired effect and earned him a grin.
“Holy shit, that’s the real reason you stopped calling, right? You couldn’t cope with my being an adult before you,” he sassed, like the dick he was.
“Piss off,Griffin.” The sat nav in my car announced we’d arrived, and I pulled over, distracted by the collection of expensive cars outside what looked to be a fairly traditional suburban family home. Yeah, it was big, but it wasn’t ostentatious. Taking it in, I relaxed a fraction.
“Nice place,” Nate said from beside me.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“We doing this?”
I nodded. “I’ll grab the cooler.” Nate snorted at the name. I rolled my eyes, saying, “Well, they don’t have Eskys here.”
We got out of my car, and I opened the trunk—just one of the many words Nate teased me excessively for when he heard the multitude of Americanisms I’d picked up over the years.
Large cooler in hand, I headed toward the front door, Nate on my heels. After ringing the bell, I worked hard at easing the tension in my shoulders. I needed to make an effort to get to know the team. Them getting used to having Nate around would be ideal too.
Coach answered the door wearing an apron and a smile. “You made it. Come on in.” He led us in and straight through to the backyard. A swimming pool took up a fair bit of space. A handful of kids were currently playing volleyball, and Jason Curtis, Vegas’s point guard, bobbed around on a giant flamingo.
“Everyone,” Coach called out, and I fought hard not to wince at the attention, “Broadwater’s here, so be nice and don’t scare the man off before the season starts. This here is Nate, his buddy visiting from Australia.” My chest warmed a little that he’d remembered Nate’s name.
Several of the guys called out, and Phillips, the captain, stood up from a lounger, a toddler on his hip, to greet me. He looked curiously at the large cooler in my hands.
“Beers and soda and lots of ice,” I explained.
“Shit, Coach, you expecting us to start bringing drinks with us?” Phillips looked a little wide-eyed, his question genuine rather than him taking the piss.
“Nah,” I answered quickly, “it’s just an Aussie thing. You don’t turn up anywhere without an Esky and beer. You’ll get used to it.” I grinned, put the cooler on the ground, and shook Phillips’s hand.
“Good to know, and good to meet ya. Coach said he’d hoped you’d come along.” His grip was firm and friendly.
“Glad for the invite.” I indicated toward the girl in his arms. “And who’s this princess?”
Phillips grinned. “Less princess and more wildcat, I think. This is Milly, my daughter. It’s her first birthday in a couple of weeks. We’re actually having a big party. You should come, and Nate here too if he’s still visiting.” He glanced over at Nate and pumped his hand in a friendly shake.
“I’ll still be here,” he answered, his tone warm. “I’m making the most of my ninety days.”
Phillips bobbed his head. “Nice, though why you’d want three months in Vegas is beyond me,” he teased, earning a “Hey, my home city you’re cussing there,” from Tucker Andrews, another of my new teammates.
With a smile, Phillips rolled his eyes. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone. Best grab a beer first. You’re going to need it dealing with this lot.”
The rest of the afternoon continued with the same level of good-natured shit-talking, three more party invites, and me feeling like this might all just work out after all.
“Did you have a good night?” Reaching out and placing his hand on my thigh once safely in the car, Nate squeezed. “They seem like decent guys.”
I covered his hand with mine, relieved to be able to touch him again. “Yeah.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him smile, another sliver of tension that had sat with me since Coach’s phone call disappearing. “I was thinking maybe we should head for a week to the beach together soon, before training starts properly. Banksy mentioned he and his girlfriend head to a resort in Mexico. It’s pretty exclusive, no paps, apparently a state-of-the-art gym too.”
When the shooting guard had mentioned the place to me and suggested it was a good place to escape the craziness of Vegas and perhaps an ideal place to take my friend, I’d initially frozen.
Wasn’t that a couples thing to do? Before I could react more or even ask questions, he’d mentioned a few of the guys on the team went too, but with friends, so it wasn’t a romantic escape or anything.
When I’d grinned in response and said I’d talk to Nate, he’d laughed, saying, “Seriously, it looks like you need to unwind. Privacy before season starts… you should already be on the phone with your travel agent.”
The magic word privacy had pretty much sold me. My condo was great, spacious, but the image of Nate and me chilling on the beach, perhaps getting some surf in, was a visual I liked.
