Page 59 of The Foul Out

“See how easy it is to recognize from the outside?” Avery giggled.

Gianna rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“We all knew something was going on between her and Emerson long before he finally came to Chris and copped to it.”

Christian grunted.

Confused, I glanced at the man in question. “To you?”

Christian frowned but didn’t respond.

“He’s my brother, and Emerson is his best friend.” Gianna shrugged, her expression unimpressed. “Emerson was worried he’d have an opinion on the matter.”

Our conversation was cut short when music blared from the stage nearby. Emerson stood front and center, with Asher, Kyle, and Mason behind him. It took three beats before I recognized the Katy Perry song.

“Eyes on me, Mariposa,” Emerson said into the mic, and Gianna flushed, a small smile tipping her lips.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He thought I would do this with them?” Christian shook his head, and when his best friend sang the first line of the song about two octaves too high, he stepped back from the table. “I’m getting a drink.”

But Gianna and Avery giggled at the guys who were dancing to “Teenage Dream,” heart hands, chest tapping, choreographed spins, and all.

“They practiced for like two hours last night. Emerson wanted it to be perfect for her.” Zara sighed, her head tilting to one side.

“Did Asher plan one for you too?” I asked.

She scrunched her nose up and shook her head. “That nonsense stopped years ago for us.” Though she was trying toplay it off, acting as if she wouldn’t care for a gesture like this, there was just a hint of longing in her voice.

I looked up, intending to study Asher, because here and there, she made comments about their relationship that surprised me. As if it wasn’t as picture perfect as it seemed. But the second my attention shifted to the stage, Kyle stole my focus. Although Emerson couldn’t look away from Gianna as he danced and sang, there was no reason for Kyle to be looking our way. Especially not with the number of beautiful women around. On all sides, there were cheers and catcalls.

Still, Kyle’s focus was fixed on our table. Our eyes met, and his smile grew. It became more teasing as he formed a heart with his hands, then lifted it to circle his head. Just before he turned, he winked. And somehow, that tiny gesture felt as intimate as a kiss. It warmed me from the inside out.

Stomach dropping, I gaped at him. Holy shit. Somehow, I had let myself start crushing on Kyle freaking Bosco. Internally, I cringed. Was I seriously dumb enough to fall for the playboy man-child of the Boston Revs?

Apparently. Except…

The Kyle I knew, the man who had been showing up for both me and my kids, was the farthest thing from a man-child or a playboy. Yeah, maybe he was obsessed with M&M’s and whipped cream. Maybe he was unable to lose gracefully. But he was always eager to help. And the way he looked at me said he cared.

“You okay? You look utterly gobsmacked.” Zara pushed her black hair behind her ear as she studied me.

With a shake of my head, I worked to dislodge the ridiculous thoughts from my mind. Kyle Bosco was gorgeous, rich, famous, and, it turned out, a decent guy.

But he had hordes of women throwing themselves at him. Tonight alone. At this very moment, there were two tables fullof women trying to get his attention, calling his name, holding up their phones to record his moves, whispering to one another. We might have had a few deep moments, but to think he was interested in me, and my very momish clothes, was absurd.

“Just out of my element,” I admitted.

“Rubbish.” She frowned. “Let’s?—”

“Zara!”

She turned. “Wren.”

She greeted the taller woman with two air kisses.

“Do you know Harper?” She waved my way. “Harper, Wren is Avery’s best friend.”

I waved, and Wren sent me a smile.

“I adore the shoes.” Zara pulled back as she glanced down at the strappy designer pumps with red soles.

---