Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Eighteen

R ye hoped he wasn’t making a colossal mistake taking Kristen to the party. What was he supposed to do, though? She was still his fiancée, and nobody affiliated with the team, besides Cutter, had any idea that their relation was rocky.

Rocky. Talk about an understatement.

Yet here he was, getting ready to escort Kristen to a team function, trot her out as if everything was great, all because he was too much of a coward to admit it was all a lie and he could barely stand her anymore.

Rye felt like an ass, knowing he was essentially leading both Kristen and Cutter on. Kristen, because she’d likely assume this meant he wasn’t angry anymore and was ready to move back into their bedroom. And Cutter. Jesus. He’d never forget the look on the trainer’s face when Rye told him he’d be bringing Kristen as his date.

What a mess. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’d probably end up hurting both.

He studied himself in the mirror, making sure his hair was smooth and his tie straight. Appearances again.

“Rye? Are you ready?”

At the sound of Kristen’s voice, he turned around. She stood in the doorway of the guest room, wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with matching heels, and a black shawl over her shoulders. Her blonde hair hung in soft waves past her shoulders, and her makeup was subtle. It was impossible to deny that she looked positively stunning, better than she had in months. Now if she could only behave herself for the duration of the party, and maybe they could have a pleasant evening.

“I am, yes,” he said. “You look great.” She held a small clutch purse, which he assumed contained her phone and maybe lipstick. Hopefully nothing else. There was a part of him that wanted to search it to make sure she didn’t have any drugs on her, but he wouldn’t. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt. He couldn’t risk picking a fight with her now.

“Thanks. So do you.” She nodded toward his green tie. “We match.”

Rye glanced down. “I guess so. Great minds think alike.” If nothing else, they’d make a beautiful couple, at least as long as no one looked too deep beneath the surface. “Shall we go?”

He reached for her hand and escorted her out of the house and into his truck, helping her inside. He waited for her to say something snide about the truck, but she didn’t, instead smiling and saying. “Thanks.”

Her pleasantness helped Rye to relax, and they were able to share a normal, even pleasant conversation on the way to The Domain, where the party was being held in one of the hotels there. Rye found a space in the parking garage and helped Kristen out of the truck. “I have to take my turn dealing blackjack,” he said as they made their way to the banquet room. He always enjoyed the casino night and made sure he signed up for a stint or two at the dealer’s table. “That means you’ll be on your own for a bit. I figure you can mingle with some of the other WAGs.”

There was a time when Kristen used to enjoy getting together with the other wives and girlfriends, but now her face tightened. “That might be difficult, since most of your team is gay.”

Rye barely suppressed an eyeroll. “That’s hardly true.” Sure, there’d been a few players on the team come out over the past couple of seasons, but it was by no means a majority. It wasn’t even anywhere close to half.

“If you say so.”

He bit down on his lower lip. Her pleasantness had lasted what, twenty-five minutes? Thank goodness for blackjack. “Jan Ross will be here,” Rye said, referring to Coach J’s wife. “I know you’ve always liked her.”

“True.” Kristen gave a half-smile. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Rye did worry. That was the problem. Her increasingly erratic behavior meant he was constantly on edge. He didn’t want it to be that way tonight. He wanted to be able to relax and enjoy himself. He didn’t know if that was possible, though.

They parted ways, with Kristen heading straight for the bar. Rye tried to tell himself it was fine. She could have a few drinks. It would only be a problem if she had them on top of snorting a line of coke, and Kristen had sworn up and down she’d quit using.

“Yo, Lenhart, you’re up!” It was Casen, waving to him from the blackjack table.

There was no time to worry about whether Kristen could avoid embarrassing him. It was time to report for duty. “Has it been busy?” Rye asked Casen.

“Yeah. It’s fun, though.”

“Always is.” Rye took the cards from Casen and looked at the players at the table. “Is everyone in?”

One man stepped away from the table. “I’ll have to sit this one out,” he said. “Smoke break.”

“All right,” Rye said, surveying the crowd around the table. “We got a spot open, if anyone wants in.”

“What the heck. I’ll play.” The man who stepped up to empty position at the table had shaggy brown hair and a goatee, but that wasn’t what Rye noticed first.

No. He noticed that the man was holding hands with another man.

Cutter.

~&~

Lane said he loved blackjack, and even though it wasn’t his thing, Cutter didn’t mind if his date played a round or two. If it was Lane’s own money on the line, why should he care?

Until Casen’s stint as dealer ended and Rye took over.

Cutter wanted to drag Lane away from the table and suggest they get a drink and mingle a bit before playing, but when the spot opened up, Lane rushed over. There was little Cutter could do but tag along.

Rye’s eyes met Cutter’s, and he tried to read what the football player was thinking. “Only one of you can play.”

“Only one of us is.” Cutter let go of Lane’s hand. “I’ll be at the bar. Good luck.” He wasn’t going to crowd the table while Rye dealt blackjack to his date. He did, however, let his gaze longer on Lane for a few seconds before he headed for the bar. Why not?

He wasn’t deliberately trying to make Rye jealous. Cutter liked to think he was more mature than that. But if seeing him with Lane had that effect on Rye, well, Cutter didn’t mind that all. Lane might not excite him in the same way Rye did, but there was no denying he was good eye candy. For a last-minute date, he more than fit the bill.

“What are you having?” The bartender asked.

Cutter hesitated, almost ordering his usual IPA. “Get me a lemon drop martini, please.” Maybe it was a girly drink, but Cutter liked them.

“Coming up.”

As the bartender fixed his drink, he glanced over at the blackjack table. Rye appeared to be a natural at dealing, and judging from the smile on Lane’s face, his date was having a good time. Cutter hoped so, anyway. He wasn’t at all interested in Lane romantically, sexy though he might be, and once tonight was over, Cutter doubted if they would ever see each other again. But Lane was helping him out, so Cutter wanted him to have a good time.

He nursed his drink and studied the room. The blackjack tables were all busy, as was the poker table, where Margie and Rosie sat. Cutter wasn’t surprised. The good doc was an ace card player. She’d cleaned up the one and only time Cutter had played with her. There was a reason why he didn’t even try anymore.

Cutter didn’t see Rye’s fiancée anywhere. He’d noticed the two of them come in, looking every bit the perfect couple, her in a green dress and Rye with his matching tie. They’d separated quickly, though, with Rye going to deal blackjack. Now, there was no sign of Kristen, and Cutter selfishly hoped she’d gotten pissed off and left. Maybe he had no business being upset with Rye for bringing her to the party, but he was. He hated that Rye was so damn insistent on pretending his life was perfect when Cutter knew full well it was a toxic mess.

He was still pondering that when Lane sat down at the bar, helping himself to the stool next to Cutter. “How’d you fare?” he asked his date.

“Not bad.” The bartender came over and Lane ordered a beer.

“I figured you might play a little longer.”

Lane shrugged. “I’d had enough. The other guy came back.” The bartender set the beer in front of him, and Lane picked it up, taking a drink. “Is there something between you and the guy dealing blackjack?”

“What?” Cutter shook his head. “No. He plays for the team, that’s all.” Sheesh. He was a terrible liar. “Why?”

“Just curious. After you left the table and came over here, he kept looking this way,” Lane said.

“Probably a coincidence,” Cutter said. “I barely know the guy. He’s come in for treatment a few times, but that’s it.”

“Then it’s just a coincidence, too, that he’s coming this way?”

Cutter turned his head to look past Lane in the direction of the blackjack table. Sure enough, Rye had left the table, leaving Casen in charge of dealing, and was striding in the direction of the bar. Maybe he was only coming to order a drink, Cutter decided. No reason to read more into it.

Until Rye stopped right beside him. “Can we talk?”

Cutter hesitated. He wasn’t sure this was the time or the place.

“Go ahead,” Lane said, scooting off the bar stool. “I may try to get back in for another deal.” He picked up his beer and sauntered off.

“Who’s the guy?” Rye demanded.

Cutter didn’t like his tone. At all. “His name is Lane Warren. He plays hockey for the minor league team in town,” he said. “Why? What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Just...” Rye glanced down at the floor. “I thought you said you weren’t bringing a date.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Cutter said, “until you insisted I should.” Along with told me you were. That was the real issue. He’d been fine with the idea of coming alone until he found out Rye would be bringing Kristen. Then Cutter knew he needed a date.

“That didn’t mean you had to do as I said.”

The arrogance in Rye’s tone only served to annoy Cutter. “Oh, trust me, that wasn’t why I did it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of game are you playing, Cutter?”

Before he could answer, the team’s special team’s coach came running in their direction. “Ryeland.” The coach sounded out of breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Why?” Rye frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your fiancée, Kristen. My wife found her in the bathroom, and said she was acting weird. I think you need to come, Rye. Jan sounds very worried about her.”