Trey knew this might be a bad idea.

A really bad one.

But, he figured it could be worth the risk. Though, last time he was in a bar thinking he would get lucky, he got arrested and then suspended from the team, instead.

And now he was down five hundred grand.

Five. Hundred. Fucking. Grand.

He figured he had two good reasons to cough up that much scratch. One, his career might come to a screeching halt if he didn’t, and two, he needed to hire the best to represent him, who, with any luck, would get his charges dismissed instead of going through a lengthy legal process. Because if they weren’t, it would delay him getting back on the team. And a loss of possibly getting a Super Bowl ring.

He fucking wanted that ring. He could taste it.

Grae Ward said his brother was the best. However, Trey didn’t fork out those ridiculous funds simply because of Gryff and Rayne’s reputation. Though, once he met both of them he knew he wanted no one else.

He wasn’t just talking representation in a court of law. He was talking about his bed. Though, he couldn’t figure out who he wanted more. The hot male attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit. Or the hot female attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit.

So, what the hell, why not both? Right?

Right. Though, Gryff probably wouldn’t cooperate with his little plan, even though the man got turned on when Trey “flirted” with him. That reaction left Trey with no doubt that Gryff wasn’t completely against the idea of being with another man. Whether that stubborn guy wanted to admit it or not.

Yeah, there was no mistaking the hard-on Gryff got when he pinned Trey against the wall.

Now, as he sat at the bar surrounded by stale smoke and after-work drinking habits, he questioned his idea of tricking Gryff here to the bar.

He ran a finger down the sweating glass of his Jack and Coke. The one he had only two sips from.

Because he needed to be sober for this.

He’d be a fool otherwise. Plus, he needed to keep his “nose clean” or he’d watch his five hundred G’s go up in smoke. Poof.

The door opened and some fresh air rushed into the dank bar’s interior, reminding the occupants for a split second that there really was a life outside this drinking hole. He had picked this particular place because he hoped no one would recognize him, and if they did, they’d likely leave him alone.

When he first walked in and moseyed up to the bar, eyes had landed on him. Along with looks of recognition and curiosity, he even scored a few chin lifts from some of what looked like regulars. But, so far, no one had violated his personal space.

Even the bartender had left him alone after serving him.

Trey’s eyes tracked the broad, dark man approaching him.

And the guy didn’t look happy. Not pleased at all.

Though, that was to be expected. Gryffin Ward, Esquire extraordinaire, probably thought himself too good to hang out in bars. He probably thought he had a reputation to uphold. He wouldn’t want to risk even a slight smudge on his character by being caught in a place like this. With a guy like him.

Trey grew up in these types of bars. Especially since his drunk of a mother couldn’t afford a babysitter for him and his younger sister due to drinking all her money. Which had never been much to begin with.

He had come from shit. So, anything other than shit was an improvement.

“Let’s go,” came the low demand as Gryff approached him.

“Hold on.”

“No. You called me because you said you had too much to drink and couldn’t drive. Which, if I remember correctly, I told you no drinking. I guess you thought I was bullshitting. Then you have the fucking balls to call me to come pick your ass up. And, fucking fool that I am, I came. So here I am. Now, let’s fucking go.”

Damn. Someone crawled out of the wrong side of bed this morning. “Gryff—"

“No, Trey. I’m warning you. I could buy a really nice fucking boat with five hundred thousand. A really nice boat. One you’ll never step foot on. Just remember that. And remember that when that Super Bowl ring slides on someone else’s finger.”

Trey frowned and stared up into the angry mask of the other man’s face. “Well, that was just downright cold.”

“You’re damn right it was. I’m simply reminding you of what you have to lose. And let me tell you what you have to gain if you fuck up... jail time. Since you like men, it may not be such a hardship for you. But you won’t get to pick your partners. Though, maybe you’re not picky and any dick will do.”

Trey closed his eyes and murmured, “Fuck you.”

“Look at me, Trey. Now.”

Trey’s gaze climbed the man standing over him. Gryff shoved a finger in his face. “I don’t need irresponsible, cocky assholes like you for clients. I only took you on as a favor for my brother. I really don’t need the hassle, let me remind you of that. I wasn’t kidding when I said to keep your nose clean. You make our job harder when you don’t. So, I want to know why you called me, of all people, to come get your ass because you’re drunk.”

Fuck. This was not going as planned. Not at all. “I’m not.”

Gryff dropped his hand and some of the hardness slipped from his face. “Not what?”

“Not drunk.”

Gryff’s eyes dropped to the drink in front of him. He turned his head toward the bartender who stood at the farthest end of the bar, watching them from a safe distance. He called out, “How many drinks has he had?”

The bartender lifted one finger. “That’s his first.”

Gryff frowned as he studied the full drink for another second then leveled his gaze at Trey. “Then why am I here?”

“When’s the last time you’ve tied on a good one?”

Gryff pinned him with a stare, his brows dropping even lower. “Are you serious right now? Please tell me you’re not being serious.”

“I’ll buy you a drink if you come sit with me. I want to make peace. I want things to be smooth between us.”

“Smooth,” Gryff repeated like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Trey called down the bar, “Bartender, can you get him whatever he wants?”

The bartender scuttled to them and gave Gryff a questioning look.

“What I want is for you to keep your shit clean,” he said in a low voice, but then turned to the bartender and said, “Whatever he’s having.”

Trey smothered his smile. Baby steps. That’s all it took. Baby steps. A few uncomfortable moments later, the bartender slid a glass in front of Gryff. Trey pushed to his feet, grabbed both of their drinks and tilted his head toward one of the empty booths.

“C’mon. Sit with me.” Trey leaned close, but didn’t touch him. “I won’t bite. I promise. Not unless you ask me to.”

Gryff shook his head and moved toward a booth farthest from the other patrons. Trey followed, still fighting the smile that wanted to break out.

When the other man slid into one side, Trey slid into the other, placing Gryff’s Jack and Coke in front of him. Without hesitation, Gryff picked it up and downed half of it.

Trey looked at him in surprise.

“You’re driving me to drink,” was the gruff answer he got in response.

Trey didn’t fight the laugh, and he lifted his own glass to his lips, letting the cool drink slide down his throat and warm his stomach. Though, he didn’t need help in that area since the man sitting across from him did that all on his own.

Gryffin Ward was fucking hot as hell. Trey was almost as determined to get him in his bed as a Championship ring on his finger.

But baby steps, he reminded himself. He didn’t feel like getting his block knocked off. Trey was certain that getting his ass beat by Gryff would be worse than the four guys who tried to take him down the last time.

“I really respect your brother.”

Gryff swallowed the rest of his drink, slammed the glass on the table, then eyed him suspiciously. “Me, too.”

Trey raised a hand to the bartender. “Keep ‘em coming.” Then turned back to face him. “You guys look a lot alike.”

Gryff simply said, “We’re blood.”

“Are you alike in any other ways?”

The bartender came up, placed a fresh drink in front of Gryff and disappeared. He stared at it before saying, “Look, you call me up to take your drunk ass home. It turns out you lied and now you want to get me drunk, so what gives?” Then he pinned his dark eyes on Trey. “Are you trying to booze me up enough to get me out behind the bar for a make-out session?” When Trey didn’t answer, he continued, “You want to lure me back there so you can get your ass kicked again?”

“I didn’t get my ass kicked.”

“No, you busted up a few guys instead. You should be proud of yourself.”

The man didn’t give an inch. He was hard, relentless. And once again, Trey realized his plan to soften up Gryff was backfiring. “Fuck you, Gryff. I protected myself.”

“And you got arrested doing it.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let them beat the shit out of me? Kill me? All because I like men? That fucker did, too. He just didn’t want anyone to know and had to save face when he got caught red-handed with his tongue down my throat.”

“Here’s a thought... Maybe don’t pick up random men in bars. Or stick to women.”

Trey snorted and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Right.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want what I want.”

“We don’t always get what we want. It’s part of being grown.”

“No, Gryff, you’re wrong. Being grown means you work hard until you achieve your goal.”

“When have you ever worked hard? You were handed a dream spot on a professional football team. You make millions to throw a damn ball.”

“You don’t think being a professional athlete is hard work? You think I didn’t work for it? Ask your fucking brother how hard I worked to become a first-round draft pick. They courted me because I’m that good.”

“Then don’t fuck it up,” came the soft reply. Gryff’s finger circled the rim of his glass.

Trey’s anger quickly dissipated as he studied the man across from him. His second drink was half gone already. Maybe the man did know how to loosen up. That gave him some hope.

“I’m not trying to fuck it up,” he murmured, then took another sip of his own drink. He waved at the bartender to bring them another round.

Gryff sighed. “I’m here to drive you home. Plying me with drinks won’t be conducive to that.”

“I’ve got it covered, don’t worry. Just relax and make peace with me.”

“Speaking of peace,” Gryff finished the rest of his second drink in one swallow. “You want a piece of me?”

The direct question surprised Trey. “Is the truth going to make you uncomfortable?”

“Probably.”

“I think you already know the truth. I haven’t hidden my interest the couple times we were face to face at your office.” Or dick to dick. But he’d keep that one to himself.

“Why me?”

“Have you seen your ass?”

Gryff frowned and took the glass directly from the bartender as he approached the booth. He downed half of it before placing it on the table. “But you want Rayne, too?”

“Have you seen her ass?” Trey chuckled when Gryff’s eyes crinkled and the corners of his lips twitched.

“She drives me nuts,” Gryff grumbled.

“How so?”

Gryff hesitated a few beats before asking, “Have you seen her ass?”

Trey’s howl of laughter filled their corner of the bar and he slammed his hand on the table. “Holy shit, dude.” The door opened again and the subject of their conversation headed toward them. Trey leaned forward and whispered, “Speaking of... Here she comes.”

Gryff’s eyes widened, and he glanced over his shoulder. “What the fuck. Why is she here?”

“I called her right after I called you.”

“Why did you call her?”

“Because we’re both going to need a ride after we get shit-faced.”

Before Rayne made it halfway across the bar, Trey had a hard-on. She wore a green wrap-around dress that was tight and short and matched those emerald green eyes of hers. The V neck of the dress did nothing to hide her cleavage. She wore strappy heels that had a ribbon or something of that nature winding up around her calves. Trey suddenly found it difficult to swallow.

As much as Trey liked men, he had to admit this woman did it for him. She was the complete package: Intelligent, beautiful, successful. Basically, hell on heels. He had done some research and Gryff was right, she was good at what she did. Very good. She might look like luscious eye candy on the outside, but inside this woman was a brilliant diamond. She knew her shit, no doubt about it.

She gave them a breathy, “Hey,” when she stopped at the end of the table. And when she smiled, the bar suddenly wasn’t so dank anymore.

“Hey,” Trey answered, fighting not to touch his cock. “Want a drink?”

She shook her head, her mane of reddish-blonde hair sweeping around her shoulders. He wanted to shove his face in it and take a great big inhale then rub that silkiness all over his body.

“No. I thought I’m the designated driver. Isn’t that why you called me?”

“Yep,” he answered, giving her a grin, then slid over to give her room to sit next to him.

She eyeballed him for a moment, shot Gryff a look, then slipped in the booth beside him. When her thigh brushed his, his cock jerked in his jeans. Goddamn. He wanted those thighs wrapped around his ears.

“So, what’s the occasion?” she asked, pinning her boss with a stare.

“Occasion?” Gryff asked her.

“Yes, why you two are suddenly chummy and out drinking together,” she explained, not taking her eyes off him.

“I was tricked.”

Her brows lifted. “Ah.”

“And you were, too,” Gryff finished.

Her eyebrows dropped. “Oh.”

Ah, shit. Trey needed to save face. “I only had the best intentions, though. Seriously.”

“Right,” Gryff mumbled into his drink and this time it was him who waved at the bartender for another one. He put up two fingers.

Trey continued, “Well, if anyone knows how important it is for a team to work well together, it’s me. And we’re now a team, right?”

Gryff leaned back in the booth, angling his long legs out. He crossed his ankles and then his arms over his chest, stared at Trey for a moment before giving Rayne a look. “You believe his bullshit?”

Rayne bit her bottom lip, glanced at the table and laughed. “Sure.”

Gryff half-smiled and said, “Then at least one of us does.”

“Teams need to be a well-oiled machine,” Trey added.

“Oh, Christ,” Gryff said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Just stop while you’re ahead.”

Gryff sat up straight and leaned across the table towards Rayne. “You want to know the real reason he tricked us here?”

Oh shit.

Rayne shrugged and didn’t even bother to ask why because Gryff was on a roll.

“Because he wants to fuck you.” Gryff paused and raised a finger. “And that’s not all. He wants to fuck me. Or me to fuck him. Whatever.”

Rayne blinked, then smiled at Gryff. “Yes, I know.” She shrugged again. “He hasn’t hidden his intentions from the beginning.”

Gryff slammed his shoulders against the back of the booth and blew out a breath. He rubbed both hands over his face, then looked at Rayne. “Oh, Jesus. Am I the only one resisting here?”

“Yes,” Trey and Rayne both said simultaneously.

Gryff’s faced closed up and his eyes narrowed. “Wait. Have you two...” He wagged a finger between the two of them.

“No,” they said in sync once more.

Trey watched relief cross Gryff’s face. The man was definitely territorial over Rayne for some reason. “You said you didn’t have dibs,” he said slowly. “Am I missing something?”

Trey’s gaze bounced between the two of them. Both of their faces went blank. That was all the answer he needed. He wasn’t sure what to think about that little tidbit. It could either help or hinder his intentions. “I think I need another drink.”

“Me, too. Bartender!” Gryff called out. “Another round.”