Page 33 of Lawson

“What the fuck were you grinning at like a little schoolboy?”

I balk at him, then shrug. “Pictures of your mom from last night.”

I swear the tiniest, most microscopic of smiles flashes on his face, but that could be my ego seeing things I want to see.

“I'm having people over tonight,” he says, his voice so gruff he almost sounds angry about it.

“I heard,” I say. “I didn't think I merited an invitation.”

“Honestly, I didn't even know if you wanted to hang with us. You're always giving us so much shit. But a bunch of the other rookies are coming so, you in?”

I smile, not bothering to tell him I’d planned to crash his private little party anyway. “You like me.”

“No I don't.”

“Come on,” I say, egging him on. “Admit it, you're warming up to me.”

“I don't warm up to anybody.”

“Then why are you hosting a party for the team?”

He grunts. “Because I'm the team captain, you little shit. And that's what you do. Maybe you should take notes in case you ever get to wear the title someday.”

I raise my brows, shock punching me in the chest. “Are you saying I'm captain material?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re hard to talk to.” Kiplin shakes his head and stomps off without another word.

“I'll see you tonight, bestie!” I call out the window.

He doesn't bother turning around, just flips me off and keeps walking to his car.

Kiplin's estate is right on the edge of the Penobscot River, the massive house complimented by the impeccable water view. I park my car in a line of dozens of others down his incredibly long driveway, making the slow walk up as I nod to players and strangers lingering outside with drinks in their hands.

Music blares across the property, and as I make my way up to his house, I'm relieved to know that his doors are already open. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d been forced to knock that Kiplin would open the door only to slam it in my face, revoking my invite.

He wasn't joking about the party. I'm pretty sure the whole team is here plus who knows how many others, with an array of women laughing and dancing and chatting both inside and outside the house.

I make my way inside, taking note of just how fucking big this place is.

And he lives here alone?

He must’ve dropped at least two mil on this place, and probably another million to have someone decorate it. It definitely screamshome, with art on the walls that lean toward his initial vibe of dark and moody, and the furniture scattered throughout the rooms is lush and inviting. I can see why he's the one throwing the morale boosting party—he clearly has the space.

I head down the long entry hallway, passing by an open study, the walls lined with bookshelves and ancient-looking books, but my eyes snag on Nash situated between two very attentive blondes. He has an arm around each of them, laughing at something one of them says.

“Wolfe! You scored an invite?” Nash calls as he sees me walking by, so I pause.

“Of course I did,” I answer. “Me and the captain are best friends, can’t you tell?”

Nash laughs. “I'm glad he invited you, man. Don't get in any trouble tonight,” he says, cocking a brow at me as if he knows that's exactly what I'm here to do.

“Looks like you should tell yourself that,” I say eyeing him.

The two women on either side of Nash giggle, each of them running their hands up his chest, and he smiles at me. “That's my secret,” he says. “I'm always in trouble.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “And I thought my lines were cheesy.”

“Lawson,” Blakely’s voice calls from down the hallway, but she's already making her way toward me, a drink in one hand, and what I'm assuming are her two best friends on either side of her.

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