“I hope you know I’m not going to sleep with you.” Bailey took a sip of her chocolate-Kahlua milkshake, eyeing me warily from the other side of the booth.

I grabbed an onion ring from the middle of the table and set it on my appetizer plate. “Technically, you already did.”

“If you use that loophole to tell everyone and give them the wrong idea, I will strangle you with hockey tape.”

“Relax, James. I was kidding. I didn’t think you’d sleep with me tonight.”

Sober Bailey had made it abundantly clear on Sunday morning that she was not, in fact, a one-night stand type of person. I had no delusions about that changing soon. Though obviously, I wouldn’t turn her down if it did.

“Oh really?” She raised her blond eyebrows. “Then what about all that crap you said to me at the bar?”

“I was teasing you.” I shrugged, biting into the gigantic onion ring. Oh my god. It was almost orgasmic. Food always tasted exponentially better after games.

“Yeah, right.”

Our server returned, quickly setting down our plates. She slid Bailey’s chicken burger with sweet potato fries over to her, followed by my loaded double cheeseburger with regular fries, before disappearing again.

“Well, it’s half-true,” I said, picking up my burger. “I was teasing you in a playful way. Obviously, I was hitting on you too.”

There was no point in denying that part. Hostility aside, she was freaking gorgeous. My attraction to her grew every time we hung out. What muddied the waters was whether she was attracted to me now, in the absence of tequila.

I was pretty sure she was. But the death stare made it hard to tell.

Bailey leaned over the table, brow crinkling. She lowered her voice, like she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Does that actually work with other girls?”

Did she want honesty here or what? I guess that’s what I would give her.

“Most of the time,” I said, taking a bite of my french fry.

“Seriously?”

“You came back, didn’t you?”

“That was the tequila talking,” she snapped.

Damn. She was cute when she was annoyed.

“Huh.” I stroked my chin. “Isn’t that a country song?”

She placed her palms flat on the table, resting her forehead on them. “You are exasperating,” she muttered, still facedown.

“Back atcha.” I just wished I didn’t enjoy it so much. Liking the dynamic we had going on was problematic. But I put the fun in dysfunctional, so I guess that wasn’t a huge surprise.

Bailey lifted her head, curtain of golden hair falling in her face as she looked up at me. “Why aren’t you out celebrating your win and hat trick against us with all your Falcon buddies?”