Chapter 8
Lance
With Radar's help, Lance battled his way through the crowd, pushing and wrestling with the locals who wanted to drag him right back into the brawl.
And there, right at the door, was the girl he'd been looking for.
He couldn't believe it. With Radar pushing him from behind, he'd almost skipped right by her. But the second he caught her eyes, he knew it was her. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and yet she looked more beautiful because of it. Her eyes were naturally smoky. Her unpainted lips formed a sultry pout. Her braided hair had come halfway undone.
It was hard to believe a girl could somehow look evenmorebeautiful when she wasn't even trying. But there she was, every bit as stunning as the day he'd met her.
He grabbed her hand and whisked her right out the bar, not waiting to find out if she even remembered who the hell he was.
“Wait, wait!” she began to protest as they hurried down the sidewalk. “What's going on in there?”
“Nothing,” Lance said.
Radar growled, “We're getting the fuck out of here.”
“Yeah, we gotta go,” Lance agreed.
But she began to drag her feet. “Guys, I'm not going anywhere until I know what thehellis going on here.”
Half a block from Zickell's, Paige slowed to a stop, and the two men ground to a halt, too. Her eyes burned into Lance's, and not necessarily in the way he'd hoped for.
“I don't want to goanywhereuntil I talk with you first,” she said.
“Lance,” Radar hissed. “We've gotta go.”
But Lance wouldn't leave her behind. “Hold up, Radar. Give us a minute.”
Radar wasn't happy, but he gave the couple some space anyway. He paced up and down the curb with his arm in the air, desperately trying to hail a cab.
“Do you even know who I am?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered with a smug smile. “You're Paige. We met two years ago.”
She let out a heavy breath of relief. “Thank God. That'll at least make things easier to explain …”
“Explain what?”
“I've been trying to find you for two years, Lance.”
That made him happy. Sometimes he wondered if the sex was as good for her as it was for him. Clearly, it had been!
“Yeah? Every time the team comes to Nashville, I think about you too,” he said cockily. He neared, his confident hands going to her waist. Sure, he had a flight to catch, and his eye was quickly swelling shut—but they still had enough time for a quickie back at the hotel.
Paige, however, didn't look impressed. She wiggled from his grasp and pushed his arms away with a sternness that surprised him. “Lance, I have to tellyou something. Something serious, okay?”
“Can it wait?” Radar groaned. A crowd was beginning to trickle out from Zickell's, and Radar was growing nervous.
“Not really!” Paige huffed. “What's going on back there, anyway? Did you two start that bar fight?”
“I got sucker punched,” Lance grumbled, “but I didn't start it. Some drunk Fury fan hit me because he was mad his team lost.”
“But youdidhit the idiot back, and now everyone back there wants us dead,” Radar said, “which is why we need to get the hell out of here right now before they find us.”
“Great.” Paige slapped her forehead. “Listen, Lance. Weneedto talk about what happened two years ago.”
