Page 23 of The Player's Club

Mac took me to his car and opened the passenger door for me to get into the front seat. “Sorry for the wait,” he said. “I have to use a decoy whenever I leave.”

I raised my eyebrows, trying to look surprised. “Seriously?”

“He’s my brother.” When my eyes widened in real surprise, Mac chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But he does get paid for it in free tickets. And access to lots of women.” Now Mac sounded annoyed. “Some of them married.”

“Your brother, then . . .”

Mac shrugged. “Is having an affair with a married woman? Yeah. Not me. That nice little story bit me in the ass, though. And I told Brian to cool it because his behavior was fucking me over. He did, but it was too late. The damage was done.”

Now that was a juicy bit of intel—except it was only juicy to me. If I went to Roy and told him that Brian Mackenzie had been the one fooling around with a married woman, Roy would kick me out on my ass.

Who the fuck is Brian Mackenzie, and why do you think I give a rat’s ass who he’s screwing? I could hear Roy’s growling voice in my head.

“Don’t tell anyone that,” said Mac, his tone serious. “The press hasn’t caught on yet.”

Now, I was confused. “Don’t you want to set the record straight, though? That rumor hasn’t done you any favors.”

“And admit to everyone they were excited to see my brother, the insurance salesman?” Mac smiled wryly. “I doubt it. Besides, it’s not the worst thing the press has written about me. It comes with the territory.”

Guilt made me feel a little nauseous. It’d been easy to tell myself that following these celebs and writing stories about any dirt I could find on them was just part of the game. The celebs understood that. If Mac learned I was a reporter, he’d never trust me again.

You’re getting attached, my mind warned me.

“I think you might have to dock your brother’s pay,” I joked. “Or maybe fire him.”

“I tried. The man is relentless. It’s why he makes an excellent salesman. He can sell anything—even himself.” Mac rolled his eyes. “I’ve been buying his shit for twenty-five years.”

I could hear fondness underneath the frustration, though. I so desperately wanted to ask more about Mac’s family. I’d assumed he was estranged from all of them, but apparently not. Did Brian know about Mac’s going to The Scarlet Rope? I wondered if Mac’s understanding of Brian’s behavior was due to his not wanting to seem hypocritical.

Then again, having consensual BDSM sex wasn’t exactly the same as having an affair with a married woman.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mac suddenly said.

“Umm . . .”

“Come on, I won’t bite. At least not unless they take too long to bring my food. I’m freaking starving.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

We drove to a greasy diner far enough from the stadium to avoid fans but not so far that Mac couldn’t drive me back to my car easily. When we arrived, Mac stuffed his hair into a baseball cap and added a pair of thick glasses to his face.

“Does that always work?” I asked as we sat down, gesturing to his disguise.

“Usually. It also helps to take off my Blades sweatshirt,” he said with a wink.

I blushed. He’d stripped off his Blades shirt in the car, changing into a nondescript red sweater instead. It’d taken all my self-control not to ogle him. He’d laughed at me, teasing it was okay to peek, which had only increased my embarrassment.

We ordered pie and coffee. According to Mac, this place had the best apple pie in the area. As I dug into my slice, I had to agree. Even the coffee was decent, at least by diner standards.

“I love this place,” Mac said.

He practically shoveled his pie slice into his mouth in one bite. Yet he somehow managed to seem downright sexy doing it. Maybe it was because he ate with such confidence, not giving a shit what anybody thought about him. Or perhaps it was because he made little groans of pleasure as he ate.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m getting turned on from this guy eating pie. I had to mentally shake myself.

We ate in companionable silence. All the things I wanted to ask him were forbidden, or I didn’t have the courage to say them out loud.

As if reading my mind, Mac said, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”