I eye him. That was fast. “Why not?”

“You need someone tonight.”

“Mama’s, I guess.”

He studies me. “Is that really what you want?”

I groan. “No, she’ll ask me a million questions and be upset. I’ll call her tomorrow. Same for Aunt Clara.” I stare down at my bare legs. “I have a key to Jack and Elena’s house while they’re gone, but the hardwood is being redone this week, so the fumes will be awful . . .” I wince at that.

“Topher?”

“He just got a small rental in Daisy, but the new roommate situation is tricky. I’m assuming I’ll need a few days to get situated, and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Any other friends?”

I bite my lip, not wanting to explain my small social circle. Most of my friends are still in Memphis, where I did my undergrad and master’s, or have moved on to graduate work across the country.

“Stay with me until this gets sorted.”

Surprise makes me blink. “The fuck palace?” I say, reaching for levity because, hello, stay with him?

“I see Elena shared her nickname for it with you.”

I shrug. Devon purchased the penthouse from Jack, who had bought it only to bring his girlfriends there while he kept a separate apartment for himself and Devon. The penthouse was where Jack and Elena had their drunken one-night stand, when she didn’t know he was a famous football player. Elena hated the penthouse with a passion and had it sold to Devon a week after they were engaged.

He pulls out on the street, driving to the intersection. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I imagine you’ll need several days to find a new place. I’ll hardly be at the penthouse anyway, since I have training camp.”

“Sounds good.” Sounds terrifying—in an exhilarating way.

He darts a look at me. “You think staying with me is a good idea.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

I smooth down the frayed edges of my shorts. “With the giant V on my forehead, I’m in the safest hands in Nashville.” I snort. “Funny. You’re a wide receiver.”

He mutters something under his breath, and I study the hard lines of his profile, the blade of his nose, the glints of blue in his dark hair, the slope of his broad shoulders. I can’t mistake the tension rolling off him. Did he expect me to turn down his offer?

“You never said why you were at my place in the middle of the night,” I say, searching for a way to break this strange tautness between us.

He makes a left onto the street. “Wanted to tell you I was sorry for yelling.”

“At midnight?”

“Didn’t say it was a good idea. I drove past and was gonna check if your light was on. I was going to call you if it was, but then I saw the fire trucks.” He gives me side-eye.

“I didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

He shrugs, his expression casual. “Elena mentioned your building once. I heard you tell someone what floor you had.”

Ah, I see. Just a coincidence that he knew where I lived. Not a real interest.

My fists clench at the next topic I want to address. “Back to the club, I don’t think I can go another minute without explaining. First, I’m sorry I lashed out. Jack is the one who needs to be yelled at. Second, you must know I haven’t been saving myself for someone special. If that were true, then I would have slept with Preston as soon as he put the ring on my finger—which, in hindsight, is what he really wanted anyway.” A long pause comes as I let out a breath. “I just couldn’t do it.”

He frowns. “What did you mean by your comment about being frigid? Did that jerk tell you that?”

Unwelcome memories wrap around me, and as much as I try to shove them off, they linger. “He did.”

“Asshole.” His eyes flick over to me. “He didn’t deserve a nice girl like you. Don’t let him get in your head.”

I stare out my window.

“Hey,” he says. “Talk to me.”

“You like long stories?”

“Hit me.”

I chew on my bottom lip, and before I think too hard, the horrible truth spills out. “When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, this lacrosse player in high school caught my eye. Handsome with dreamy eyes, he reminded me of Lord Byron, you know, with dark hair and a pout on his lips, like a girl’s. I was a year younger but had skipped a grade, so we were in the same class.” I sigh. “Needless to say, I adored him, and anytime he looked at me—and boy, he had a way of just looking—I did his bidding. Wrote his term paper, let him copy my chemistry notes, saved his seat at lunch—but he never asked me out. He really laid it on thick the summer before our senior year, asking me to come to his practices and watch. After one of those, he led me under the bleachers, and I went, knowing that’s where all the cool kids go to get high or laid. Did you know they voted me the most boring girl of my class? It’s one of those secret lists they make, not the real ones that make the yearbook.” My voice cracks, just a little, and I jerk it back. “Anyway, he kissed me, my first real one, and had me down to my underwear in no time. Then I heard his friends laughing. They were hidden, videoing me on his phone. It was my birthday.” Heat rises in my cheeks, and I’m glad Devon’s looking at the road, his face hard.

“By the time I got home, my daddy was in a coma. Looking back, now that I have distance, I know all guys aren’t like him, but it’s made me hesitant about sex.”

“What’s this dickhead’s name? Where does he live?”

My fists curl. “I took care of him.”

He flashes his eyes over to me. “Good.”

We’ve reached the Breton Hotel, where his penthouse sits at the top. Close to the stadium, the building’s exterior is a dark-gray stucco color. The night valet, a young guy dressed in a black uniform, dashes for the Hummer like it’s the best day of his life, his wide face spreading in a grin.

I take Pookie from the back, and Devon waits for me, his eyes low and heavy, as if he doesn’t want me to read his thoughts. He takes my hand in his, his thumb brushing over mine—killing me with the sparks—as we head inside. The interior is all marble and glass with a chic sitting area encircling a four-tiered stone fountain made of black monolith-style granite. Lush plants and bright flowers in textured gray urns decorate the corners around a twenty-foot fireplace. An older woman at the front desk waves at him, her eyes appreciative as she rakes her gaze over his broad shoulders. I swear she puts her hand over her heart as we pass by. Yeah. Everyone adores him.

My heart flutters, not from the fire but from his proximity. He stalks across the lobby like he owns the whole place, and I keep up with him. He leads me around a hidden alcove and shows me the penthouse elevator and the code to use it. It slides opens, and he tugs me inside.

The air feels thick as we rise to the top.

He lets go of my hand.

“So did you confess to doing the lacrosse player’s homework and get him in trouble?” he asks.

“Worse.”

His arm brushes mine as he takes Pookie from me and arches a brow, the one with the piercing. I have the insane urge to lick it. “Spill your devious ways, Giselle. What did you do to him?”