As I turn around with a warm smile in place, the word sure is out of my mouth before I even see who is asking. I’m met by a vision of holy hotness as two women stand there with tight-as-hell Cold Fury T-shirts cut obscenely low and with plenty of silicone boobs pouring out. Just a mere month ago, I would have whispered a prayer of thanks to the big man upstairs for sending these two creatures my way, certain that I’d be banging the hell out of one of them before the night was finished. Instead, my stomach tightens and I glance past the women to see Olivia still deep in conversation with Sutton and Gina.

I bring my gaze back to the women…one a brunette and the other a blonde, both very beautiful and looking at me with promise in their eyes.

“Do you mind taking your picture with us?” the blonde asks as she bats her eyelashes at me.

I give her a quick smile and say, “Sure, no problem.”

She steps up to me as she hands her phone to the brunette. I lift my arm to sling it companionably around her shoulders, but she uses that opportunity to press intimately into my side, bringing both arms around my waist and mashing her breasts against my ribs. The brunette holds the phone up and says, “Say cheese,” and before I can raise my lips in a smile, the blonde drops her hand around my back and squeezes my ass. It takes all my self-control not to jerk away, but as soon as the photo is snapped I step away from her.

The blonde just looks at me with blinking and innocent eyes, and then the brunette is wrapping herself around me for a picture. It takes only a few seconds, and thankfully I’m not groped by the dark-haired beauty.

“Thanks so much,” the blonde says in a seductive voice. “Can we buy you a drink? You know…to celebrate your win?”

“No, thanks,” I say with a smile. “I’ve got some friends waiting on me.”

“An autograph, then?” she asks.

“Sure…no problem.”

The brunette digs in her purse and pulls out a pad of paper and a Sharpie marker. She hands it to me and says, “Can you make mine out to Lydia?”

I nod and smile, hastily scrawling my name and number—72—on the paper and hand it back to her with the marker.

The blonde reaches out and grabs the Sharpie, handing it back to me. She licks her lips and runs her gaze down my body. “I’d like an autograph too.”

“You got it,” I say, eager to get this over with because it feels awkward to me to have this woman coming on to me with her eyes and actions with Olivia standing just a few feet away.

Reaching back toward the brunette to get the pad of paper, I’m stunned when the blonde says, “Just sign here.” Then she pulls the edge of her T-shirt down her chest, practically exposing her entire right breast to me. I can actually see the edge of her areola peeking out from the material, and my jaw drops, marker poised in the air as I stare at her boob.

My eyes slide to the left and I look back toward Olivia with almost a knot of dread in my stomach. And, fuck…sure as shit, she’s standing there, watching me with eyes narrowed and her cheeks red. We look at each other, her eyes fuming and mine swimming in guilt to be busted in this compromising situation.

I vaguely hear the blonde say something like, “Garrett…I’m waiting for my autograph,” but I’m too focused on Olivia to see what she’ll do. She just stares at me for a second more, then calmly turns away and hands her beer to Sutton, who is oblivious to what’s going on. Sutton doesn’t do more than take the beer, and continues talking to Gina.

Olivia looks back at me one more time, and now her eyes are filled with disappointment and confusion, but I see them for only a moment because she turns away and heads for the exit of Houlihan’s.

Fuck. Not good.

Shoving the marker back toward the brunette, I don’t even give the blonde a glance, but push my way through the crowd in hot pursuit of my woman. She’s quickly lost among the throng, and I try to be as polite as possible as I turn my body left and right to weave my way through all the partiers.

When I make it to the doors, I burst through out into the warm, humid night and look left and right. I don’t see Olivia at first, but then I see her making her way down the block toward the arena parking lot. She must have walked over here after the game.

I take off running, and before she can even make it to the next intersection, I’ve caught up with her. Grabbing her hand, I give it a tug and say, “Whoa. Where are you going?”

“Home,” she says tersely, and tries to pull her hand free. She won’t even look at me.

“Wait,” I say, pulling at her…stopping her in her tracks. She still won’t turn and face me, so I take a step around her and lean down to put my face in her line of sight. “Don’t go. Please don’t be mad about that.”

“I’m not mad,” she says, and her voice is tinged with sadness and fatigue. That makes me feel worse than receiving her anger.

“Then why are you leaving…without me? Without at least saying goodbye?”

Olivia takes a deep breath and shoots a glance back at Houlihan’s before she looks back at me. Her chin raises and her eyes are firm. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to handle that kind of stuff.”

“A woman exposing herself to me?” I hazard a damn good guess.

“Yeah…I can’t say as I’ve ever been in a relationship with someone where a woman would so boldly hit on my boyfriend,” she grits out. “I can’t say as it feels very good.”