His hair was still damp, the ends curling. She inhaled his fresh, piney scent, which made her want to inch closer and bury her face in his neck. Instead, she took a step back.
“That’s okay. Are you ready or should I just go wait in my room?”
“No, I’m ready.”
He closed the door and stood there, scanning her.
She frowned and looked down at her clothes. “What’s wrong? Am I not dressed right?”
“Uh, no. You look very nice.”
Relieved, she relaxed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure what was going on the rest of the day, so I figured I’d go casual.”
“You’re fine. Let’s go.”
He was acting strange. Maybe it was the long drive. He might be uncomfortable. “We should get in a workout today, make sure we at least stretch out your shoulder.”
“Okay. We’ll do that later.”
“We’re burning daylight already.”
“I’ll make sure to whine and complain about how much I hurt so that you don’t forget.”
She laughed. “You can do that, but trust me, I won’t forget. That’s the whole reason I’m here, remember?”
“Right. Though Gray thought you were hired for another reason.”
She laughed. “Yes. Which I thought was wildly funny. Imagine someone like me, an escort.”
He gave her a long look. “You could pull it off.”
“Not in yoga pants with my hair in a ponytail.”
He stopped as they walked off the elevator on the first floor. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Alicia.”
She gaped as him. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Be flattered.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and directed her down the darkly paneled hallway, away from the main entrance. The bar was tucked just inside some doors that led outside to what she imagined was the golf course.
The bar was painted a rich burgundy and cream, separated by wainscoting along the wall. The place looked just as expensive as everything else she’d seen of the lodge, with wood tables and booths spread around, some pool tables, and televisions mounted above the bar and throughout the room showing various sports. It was kind of like Riley’s, her aunt and uncle’s bar, only way more upscale. There was a thick oak bar served by two bartenders wearing long-sleeved shirts and vests. Their shirts even had pleats. Fancy.
Definitely not the kind of bar she usually frequented. There weren’t even any peanuts on the floor. In fact, she was pretty sure she could eat off this floor.
Gray was seated in one of the booths in the corner, along with several other guys. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she wondered if she was being punked. They all stood up, and it was like walking into a cover shoot for a magazine. Several hot men smiled at her as she and Garrett approached.
Maybe she should have dressed up more. Dashed on some perfume or something. Because, damn.
“The ever-elusive Garrett Scott finally shows up,” one of them said, sticking out a hand.
“Surprised to see you here, Trevor,” Garrett said. “Figured you’d be stripped down to your underwear doing another photo shoot for a magazine or a billboard somewhere.”
Now Alicia knew why that guy looked familiar. Trevor Shay’s oh-so-hot body was plastered up . . . everywhere. On billboards, across magazines, on the sides of buses, and in commercials. He had been one hot commodity for the past few years, because he’d been playing football and baseball, and was very good at both of them. He was also a known ladies’ man.
Trevor grinned. “Yeah, well. I took the weekend off to drink beer with you ass**les.” Finally noticing Alicia, he said, “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to cuss.”
“It’s all right. I’m Alicia Riley.”
“Trevor Shay. Nice to meet you. So, you’re Garrett’s . . . girlfriend?”
“Therapist,” she corrected.
Trevor lifted a brow. “Therapist? Got Mommy issues, Scott?”
“Ha ha. She’s my physical therapist. She works for the Rivers.”
“Oh, yeah. You f**ked up your shoulder because you can’t throw for shit.”
Garrett shook his head. “I’m not even going to dignify that comment with a return insult about how some of us can’t make up our minds about what sports to play when we grow up.”
Trevor grinned. “Yeah, and maybe some of us are so damn good we get to play both.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “You keep thinking that, buddy. Where’s Drew?”
“He can’t make it,” Trevor said. “He’s got a game tonight. Said to tell everyone to kiss his ass and not talk about him while he’s not here to defend himself.”
“So, that means we’re going to talk about him, right?” Garrett asked.
“You know it,” Gray said, lifting a glass in toast.
Garrett introduced her to a couple of other guys. Alicia was glad she was good at remembering names and faces.
“Make room, dickheads, so we can sit.”
They did, and Alicia slid over in the booth. Garrett leaned over. “I’m sorry, but these guys are all ass**les. There’s going to be cursing and name-calling.”
“Yes. Feel free to join in, especially if you have dirt on Garrett,” Gray said.
Alicia laughed. “Oh, no. I plan to just listen. And make mental notes. Maybe write a tell-all book in the future.”
“I like her,” Gray said to Garrett. “She’s a smart-ass like us.”
Alicia just smiled, and when one of the waiters came over—impeccably dressed like the bartenders—she ordered a drink. A soda.
“Oh, come on, Alicia. You’re here to relax and have fun,” Trevor said. “Fun means hard liquor.”
“Hard for me to be clearheaded and take those mental notes if I’m fuzzy with alcohol. Soda it is for me.”
“Buzzkill,” Trevor said. “You being the only woman in the bunch, how are we all going to get you drunk and take advantage of you?”
“You aren’t,” Garrett said, and then ordered a beer.
“I thought you said she worked for the team?”
“She does. Which means hands off, Trevor. I mean it.”
Alicia kind of liked the firmness of his statement, even though she was fully aware Trevor was just kidding and Garrett was only protecting an employee of the Rivers. Not someone who belonged to him.