Page 61 of Play for Keeps

“Got the divorce papers as a souvenir.”

Millie blinked in surprise, then frowned at the phone. “Why is Mari calling you?”

“Damned if I know.” He stepped into the track pants and settled the waistband low on his hips. “She’s been calling for the last couple of days.”

“What does she want?”

He let one shoulder rise and fall as he pulled a pair of athletic socks from a drawer. “No idea.”

“You aren’t answering?”

He shook his head. “Don’t see the point. Mari and I are done. So done,” he added, dropping onto the bench at the foot of the bed. “Papers are signed, she got the settlement she wanted but didn’t deserve, and I have nothing else to say.”

She eyed him as she wriggled her toes into her shoes. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

At last, Ty looked up and met her gaze. “No. Not at all.”

“I hear she and Dante may be on the downhill slide.”

“I don’t care,” he replied stubbornly.

“You just cut her out of your life? Easy as that?”

Bending over, he slipped a sock over his toes. “I didn’t cut her out. She left.”

“Right, but you’re not even a little curious about what she wants?”

He turned his attention to the other foot. “No. I’m really not.” He snorted softly. “But maybe later on, when I’m all alone and so scared, I might be tempted.”

Millie frowned as she tried to puzzle the last part out. “Was that some kind of threat or something?”

“No, it was more of that sarcasm you like so much,” he said, placing both feet square on the floor before looking up at her again. “But if threats work for you, I might be able to muster one.”

“No, they don’t.”

He nodded as if digesting the information, then pressed his hands to his knees and stood. “Well, then. I should get you home so I can get to practice and you can start on that list of yours.” He slid his sock-clad feet into a pair of athletic sandals, snatched up a duffel bag he had packed and waiting beside the dresser, and swung the strap over his shoulder. “Later on, I’ll try to get some practice in on being alone. But, Millie, there are only certain games I like to play. Don’t tempt me into proving your theory about not being alone.

“Now, that was a threat,” he added as he sauntered past her, the bag bumping against his hip with each step. Pausing outside the bedroom door, he looked back at her. “How’d I do?”

* * *

Though she wasn’t quite done being indignant, Millie also knew Ty had every right to be pissy with her. She was disgusted with herself. She, Millie Jensen, was spewing so much unmitigated bullshit in the poor man’s direction, she was half-amazed he hadn’t bolted already. This wasn’t like her. She was a woman who prided herself on living a life of no spin. And now, she was spiraling out of control.

She drummed her fingernails on the sticky bar top and waited as a blond bartender dressed in short shorts and a Warriors basketball tank top chopped off below her perky breasts mixed her daiquiri. Avery sat at a tall table in the corner, holding their spot and grimacing into her scotch. Kate was running her own practice tonight, so she was unavailable for the intervention Millie called for herself. Her lips thinned into a straight line as she watched the bartender add a skewer of fruit to the tall glass. This was an emergency. Avery and her new age BS would have to do.

A couple of beery undergrads jostled for position behind her. One of them caught her on the arm as she was pushing away from the bar, drink in hand. Sticky, icy sludge sloshed over her knuckles. She gave the culprit her best “drop dead” look. The kid straightened up fast, swallowed hard, and mumbled a gruff, “Sorry, ma’am.”

Millie huffed as she pushed past them, her sights set on the tiny table. When had she gotten used to being calledma’am? Why was she such an ungodly mess these days? Wasn’t sex supposed to make a person feel all upbeat and whistle-y? Where the hell did Avery find those god-awful patchwork skirts?

Millie voiced the last question, and Avery treated her to a surprisingly sharp-edged smile. “I’d say you need to get laid, but the sex doesn’t seem to be doing you any good.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass, then placed it carefully on the cardboard coaster without taking a sip. “What’s the matter? Ty not living up to his hype?”

“No,” Millie snapped, instantly defensive. “Ty’s great.” In the next second, Avery’s choice of words sank in. “Hype? You’ve heard hype about how good Ty is in bed?”

“Should I have?”

“You said it,” Millie pointed out.

They both paused, and Millie could see Avery playing the exchange back in her head. Finally, Avery shrugged. “A turn of phrase.”

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