Page 60 of Love Game

Kate grimaced as the sticky, sweet drink trickled from the straw into her friend’s mouth. Reaching for the pint she’d ordered, she held it up for inspection. “I’m drinking beer. What does that say about me?”

Avery grinned and dropped the straw back into the daiquiri glass just as Millie returned from her sojourn to the ladies’ room. “It says your taste buds are dead.” The second their trio was complete, she lifted the whisky she’d ordered on convoluted principle in a toast. “May they rest in peace.”

“Amen,” Millie said as she repositioned her straws.

Kate rolled her eyes. “You do realize we look like the start of a bad joke, don’t you? A jock, a priss, and a feminist walk into a bar. Who orders the umbrella drink?”

Avery’s brow puckered. “How is that humorous?”

“It’s not. That’s why it’s a bad joke.” Kate reached over and gave Avery’s hand a condescending pat. “No matter how hard you try, we’re still a cliché.”

“Well, you are,” Millie said, her pointed gaze traveling from the tracksuit Kate wore to her half-drunk glass of beer. “And Betty Friedan over there fights it so hard she’s turned herself into one.” She pressed one perfectly manicured hand to her breast. “Me? I’m an original.”

Avery snorted. “Are there any parts on you that are still original?”

“One nip,” Millie shot back, referring to the eyelift she’d had the previous year. “I had one little nip, and it was medically necessary. My vision was compromised.”

Kate rolled her eyes but made certain she opened them just a little wider. The truth was, she understood Millie’s decision to have surgery better than she liked to let on. When a woman spent half her life defying gravity, it was hard to give in gracefully to signs of time.

Leaning in, Avery folded her hands on the sticky tabletop. “Yeah, well, you’re old news. What I want to know is how many times our Katie here has been compromised.”

The shift in topic startled her, but the change wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as their probing gazes. “What?” she managed to blurt.

“You’re fucking Danny McMillan,” Millie stated bluntly. “A lot, I’d say.” She turned to Avery for confirmation on her diagnosis.

Lips pursed, Avery surveyed her carefully. “I concur. Well and often, judging by the size of those bags under your eyes.”

“What? How?” Kate sputtered. “Why would you—”

“Oh, please,” Avery said, waving away her protests. “We’re not judging you. I, for one, am proud. And more than a little jealous.”

“And I’m a little pissed that you didn’t tell me,” Millie said with an arch look. “But I can get past it—”

“As long as you give us all the salacious details,” Avery injected.

“Exactly.” Millie stirred her drink, then plucked a wedge of orange from the rim of her glass. “Tell us everything.”

Kate’s cheeks burned. She wrapped one hand around her beer glass, hoping the condensation might help her keep her cool, but it was no good. Exhaling slowly, she caved to peer pressure. Oddly enough, making the decision to spill her guts felt good. Like someone finally stuck a needle into her release valve. Little by little, the weight of keeping her relationship with Danny a secret from her best friends lifted. She let go of her glass and pressed her damp hand to the scarred table. The fire under her skin died down to a warm glow. “Oh God, he’s so perfect,” she gushed at last.

Avery gave up all her pretenses and squealed like a teenager.

Millie clapped a stunned hand to her throat. “I swear, I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth. I mean, I know the two of you are combustible—that’s why I put you together—but dear Lord.”

“She’s in love!” Avery cooed. “Completely deluded and utterly cursed. Willing to sacrifice her personal autonomy for patriarchal approval. How sweet is that?”

This time, Millie handled the eye rolling. “She’s got the hots for a stud muffin, that’s all.”

Offended by her friend’s dismissive tone, Kate sat up straighter. “I’m not deluded, and it’s not the hots.”

“Notice she didn’t deny the stud-muffin part,” Avery said with a sage nod.

Fighting the urge to snarl, Kate fixed them both with her most intimidating stare. “And I’m not giving up any autonomy.”

“Puh-leeze,” Millie murmured, taking a draw from her straw. “I’m just looking at you, and I can tell that you’d work here for free if McStud Muffin’s services were part of your contract.”

Avery jerked up tall on her stool and narrowed her eyes. “It’s a ploy. Mike Samlin brought the stud muffin in to distract you from contract negotiations.”

Kate scoffed and reached for her beer. After taking a bracing gulp, she tossed the idea aside. “Y’all are forgetting that I’m not negotiating my contract. Jonas is.”

---