Page 70 of Puck Princess

He pats people on the back as he passes them, shaking hands like he’s a senator instead of a spoiled rich kid living on his daddy’s money. Then again, those two things might have more in common than I thought.

“I’m so glad everyone could make it. They’re finally about to let the lay people in. I say we do a shot to celebrate.” The bartender is already on it, sliding a tray of shots towards Spencer.

“I won’t turn down free booze.” Dax pounds the last of his drink to free up a hand.

Spencer holds out a shot glass to Owen. “You in, Sharpe?”

It’s the kind of game he plays when he knows he has the upper hand. I know the flash of amusement in his eyes all too well.

Discreetly—with a smile even—I place my hand on Owen’s lower back, nudging him forward.

He takes the shot without any attempts to strangle Spencer. “Yeah. Why the hell not?”

“I knew you had it in you to be a team player.”

Before I can note Owen’s reaction, Spencer holds a shot out to me. I’m not expecting it and struggle to hide my surprise. “Oh. No, I’m good.”

“It’s just a toast.” His gaze is silent, suffocating. It wraps around me like a physical hold until my heart is pounding.

Suddenly, Owen reaches out and takes the second shot in his free hand. “You heard the lady. But I’ll never let good vodka go to waste.”

Spencer studies me for another second before he snags a shot for himself and lifts it into the air. “To Jaguar and the future of the Scythes!”

Owen snorts, and Spencer whips around. “What was that, Sharpe?”

There’s a silent beat of tension between them before Owen answers. “Enough talking, let’s drink.”

“Cheers to that!” Lance tosses his shot and everyone else follows suit. As soon as the toast is over, Lance and I wordlessly steer Owen back out into the main room and far from Spencer.

For a while, it’s actually kind of fun. Everyone is in good spirits, the DJ is great, and the energy is high. The place might even be—I hate more than anything to admit it—kind of cool.

I go back to the private bar for a water refill. Sucking in your baby bump all night works up a thirst, apparently. While I’m waiting, bopping my head to the music, Lance appears next to me. “Why didn’t Kennedy come? Really?”

I slam my hand down on the bartop and turn to him. “I’m not saying a word until you explain the history between the two of you. Because it’s obvious there is history. Any time y’all arein the same room, the air isthickwith your history. Spill it, Craven.”

But Lance just accepts his drink from the bartender and shakes his head. “No can do, Callie. If you want that story, she is going to have to tell you. For one, I’d love to know what her version is. Then, and only then, will I give you my version. Thetrueversion.”

I laugh painfully. “Lance, that is such a tease! You’re killing me here!”

Spencer comes up on the other side of me, his arm brushing along mine as he leans in. I pull back and look around for Owen, but I don’t see him. “You have history with Kennedy too, Craven?”

Lance’s expression turns lethal. “What do you meantoo?”

Spencer takes a sip of his drink, drawing the moment out. Another little power play. “I mean what it sounds like I mean.”

“She’s not like that,” Lance says.

“Not like what?” Spencer looks at him with a barely concealed smirk.

I want to knock it off his smug face.

“She doesn’t play the field.”

“Maybe not the field,” Spencer raises a finger to order another drink. “But the ice… well, that’s her stomping ground. Seems to run in the Coleman family, doesn’t it, Callie?”

I don’t even know how to respond to that. The balls he has right now are unreal. I’m half expecting Lance to hit him. But beforeanyone can do or say anything, Owen shows up and pulls me against him.

I let out a breath of relief. “Oh, hey.”

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