I turn my head as the waitress walks off and look to the bar, trying to suppress a groan when I see three women there, all turned to look at me. They’re dressed super slutty and clearly out for a wild evening. I give them a nod of my head in acknowledgment, and because I can feel the weight of Jules’ stare on me, I turn to face her.

Her face is impassive and I have no clue what she’s thinking. This is really the first time we’ve been out in public—excluding Houlihan’s, of course, but I’m not counting that as a true outing. That’s a different, with its long-standing fans and a place to celebrate our wins. We go there knowing we’ll be recognized and knowing it’s to interact with the fans.

But tonight I do not want to be fucking recognized. I want to put Jules’ mind at ease.

With a grunt, I push back out of the booth, round the table and start to slide in next to Jules. She immediately slides over to give me room.

Turning to face her, I drape an arm over the back cushion and give the rest of the world my back so she knows all I see is her.

“Jules . . . I highly doubt some random piece of ass that Dwayne has hooked up with is going to front him money for an attorney so he can take on the expense and burden of three kids.”

“They’re not burdens,” she mutters.

I roll my eyes. “I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t know that. He sees them as burdens or else he’d have been there for them. He’d have paid his fucking child support. Now, do I think that man wants something? Fuck yeah, and I’m going to guess it’s money.”

She blinks at me. “Money?”

“Yeah,” I tell her softly. “Think about it. He shows up and gets you all wigged out about taking the kids. Makes a remark at the end about me rolling in dough.”

“But he didn’t know that you were seeing me when he came,” she points out.

“Agreed. So I’m thinking he was going to roll you for a little money but once he recognized my name when I introduced myself, I think his plans got bigger.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jules hisses and her eyes fire up with fury. “That asshole.”

“Agreed, baby,” I tell her, dropping my arm from the cushion to come down around her shoulders. I pull her in for a quick squeeze. “But you and I both know he’s going nowhere with that. So I need you to stop worrying about him and to put your worries toward the things that matter . . . namely those little minions.”

That gets her and she finally gives me a smile. She takes a deep breath, lets it out and murmurs, “I’m sorry he made me so crazy. Thank you for getting me calmed down and making me see things in a different perspective.”

“You’re welcome,” I say and then lean in to graze my lips against hers.

When I pull back, she gives me a tiny shove against my chest. “Okay, buddy . . . how about get back on your side of the table so I don’t get a crick in my neck from trying to look at you sideways.”

I chuckle and lean in, grab another quick kiss and then push back along the booth. When I stand up, my foot steps on something and I realize it’s someone else’s foot.

“Oh, shit,” I say as I spin around. “I’m sorry.”

Standing there are the three women who sent me a beer, which I now realize Jules never even said a word about it. I wonder what she’s thinking now.

“Could we get a picture with you, Max?” one of the women says breathlessly as she pushes her chest outward.

“Um . . . I’m kind of on a date,” I mutter and take a step back toward the seat I’d just vacated.

“Please,” one of the other women says, and I can’t tell her apart from the one that just asked me for the picture. They all look the same. Long hair, tiny dresses, big boobs that look fake, and a lot of makeup. “We’re such big fans and you took pictures with that little boy a minute ago.”

I don’t dare turn around and look at Jules, not because I’m afraid she’ll be mad but mostly afraid she’ll laugh at me.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh, and the women all giggle as they swarm me as a waitress gladly steps up to take the phones from the women so she can get pictures for all of them. Their arms go around my waist and I’m assaulted with heavy perfume, and even though I try not to look, standing above them by almost a foot, I can’t help but see all three of their cleavages from my lower periphery. I paste on a smile and keep it there while the waitress snaps photos.

Finally, she finishes and I start to pull away from the women and turn my attention back to the only woman that gets my motor running, when I feel a hand slip into my back pocket. It’s quick, there and gone, and then the women are walking off with backward waves at me and continual giggling.

I reach into my back pocket as I turn to face Jules and pull out a piece of paper. It has a name—Maevery—as well as a phone number.

“Did that woman . . .” Jules says, and my gaze slides from the paper to her. “Did that woman just put her phone number in your pocket?”

“Appears so,” I mumble as I hand it to her and then flop down in my original seat.

Jules’ lips are pressed flat as she grabs the paper, eyeballs it for only a moment, and crumples it in her hand. “She just . . . she just propositioned you while you were on a date.”

I just stare at her, waiting for her to blow.

“A date with me,” she reiterates.

I nod. “Yeah . . . sorry about that.”

“Does that sort of thing happen often?” she grits out, and I’m torn between loving this flash of jealousy from Jules and hating the fact she’s upset when she really has had enough upset today.

“Not often,” I tell her the truth. “But it does happen.”

She tilts her head. “And what do you do when that happens?”

I nod down to the paper crumpled in her hand. “I do what you just did. I’m not into random hookups, Jules.”

She narrows her eyes at me so I quickly amend, “I haven’t been into random hookups in a very long time.”

This she should know because I told her truthfully about my bit of a wild period after I broke up with Christine.

Jules gives a heavy sigh and tosses the paper aside. Her eyes are slightly sad but also resolved. “I guess this is the first time I’ve gotten a glimpse at the ugly side of your fame. It’s a bit disconcerting.”