"How long does a head injury really take to heal? Christ," he muttered. His opinion on how long Katie's recovery was taking was not a new thorn in his side. He really disliked the reserves. They just didn't have the skill to fit into Katie's roll and he had no interest in changing his strategy in order to compensate for a weaker chaser. He might as well toss in the towel if he did that. He did not spend all this time working them into shape in order to lose.
Adrian glanced up at Clint's question and nodded. He wasn't sure he really wanted to tell them what had happened. At least not yet. He was sure he hadn't even wrapped his own head around it yet. It wasn't such an easy thing to do. One minute you're having an argument with someone you care about and the next minute they're pregnant. He wasn't saying Emma didn't also feel that way, of course.
Before anything further could be said, the three waitresses arrived interrupting the conversation. As a flirty brunette draped herself along the back of his chair, Adrian shifted forward minutely, removing the contact she'd initiated. He had enough things to deal with as it was without rumours getting out of him and some random brunette. Masking the movement, he reached for the bottle of whiskey and topped off his own glass. Instead of returning to his reclined position, he rested his arms on the edge of the table and glanced over to the other two.
Marcus, however, had no problem with the attention the women were offering. "Smart man, Bletchley," he grinned, turning in his seat to eye the women standing his chair. "Though if he wants to get us upstairs to lose our money, he was wrong to send you lot to do his dirty work. I see no reason to change scenery."