I thank him and then hand her the drink. She glances at it and then asks, “What the hell is this?”

“A drink. You never specified what you wanted.”

“There’s no alcohol in this.”

“Yeah, there’s no alcohol in mine either.”

She sips from the straw and asks, “Is this your version of fun?”

“Yeah. Have a problem with it? Because you didn’t have to come find me.”

“It’s not like I wanted to. I just had this overwhelming sense that you were in need of entertainment.” She glances at our drinks. “Clearly, I was right. Now come with me.” She grabs my hand and pulls me through the bustling crowd, past a few fans at the bar, and then toward the back where there’s a foosball table set up. She spins one of the poles and asks, “Have you ever foos-ed around?”

“Lame attempt at a joke.” I chuckle.

“Says the guy who’s laughing.” She sets her drink down on the edge and then picks up a soccer ball from one of the goals. “Get ready to have your ass annihilated.”

“Are you good?” I ask, setting my drink down as well and getting into position.

“Not even a little. But confidence wins games.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t know that.”

She taps the side of her head. “Stick with me, Bisley. I know a thing or two.” Then she drops the ball and starts spinning her poles, distracting me so much that I don’t realize the ball is sailing toward my goal until it clunks to the bottom. “Fuck, yes!” She pumps her arm into the air. “God, my nipples are hard.”

Because I’m a man, I glance down at her tits and see that her nipples are, in fact, hard.

When she catches me staring, she just smirks. “Get a good look?”

“Not nearly enough.”

“Feel free to stare all you want while I destroy you at this game.” She drops the ball and automatically starts spinning the poles, acting like a madwoman.

This time, I focus, and even though she’s giving it her best effort, I block three of her shots, shoot the ball past her players, and then snap it into her goal.

“Ooo, that feels good,” I say as I reach for my drink and bring it to my lips.

“You know, I would never have guessed you to be a gloater, but here we are.”

“And I pegged you for a sore loser, so guess I was right on that.”

She reaches for the ball. “Prepare for total domination.”

While I still have my drink in hand, she drops the ball, flicks her wrist, and scores. With a shimmy in my direction, her tits flying at me in the best way, she says, “Need some cleavage to cry on?”

“You’re something else.” I shake my head in humor.

She presses her hand to her chest. “Why, thank you.”

I reach for the ball just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. “Time out,” I say as I pull my phone out. When I see my agent, Roark’s, name on the screen, I say to Myla, “Hey, give me a second.”