Page 56 of Dream Girl Drama

Mailer stood up. “Fuck that. We ride. No one’s sister is dating a baseball player.”

Sig jabbed the air with his finger. “For the last time, stop calling her my sister.”

“Whatever she is, she’s keeping it hockey.” Corrigan and Mailer were already walking toward the exit of the smoothie shop. “Let’s fucking go.”

Annoyed or not by their presumed intervention, Sig was already following them. “I can handle this myself,” he growled, once they were out on the sidewalk.

“We’re a team.” Mailer cracked his knuckles. “No one handles anything by themselves.”

“I’m too old for this shit,” Burgess declared, emerging fromthe shop. “But I’m not missing it, either. Let’s go scare the pants off a goddamn baseball player.”

Mailer frowned. “Isn’t the point to keep his pantson?”

“You know what I mean.” Burgess sighed, flipping his keys over in his hand. “I’ll drive.”

Chapter Fourteen

Fact: Chloe had the cutest dog in the whole park. Not up for debate.

Sure, he’d been sitting in the same spot for the last thirty minutes, but he was just preparing to make his move! That spoke volumes about his personality. Check out the scene, decide which dogs were best to avoid, and then slide into the group fashionably late. The cool new guy. Yes, Chloe could see exactly what he was doing.

“G’boy, Pierre,” she called, making a kissing sound at the bulldog.

Pierre sort of melted sideways into the grass, yawning the whole way down.

“He had a big breakfast,” she explained to the group of pet owners, which consisted of Omar, a senior citizen who had marched his pug into the park ten minutes ago and immediately hidden behind the sports section of the newspaper. And Elton, a cute baseball player with an impeccably groomed bichon frise.

Maybe giving Elton her phone number might have been a little premature, but it was nice to make friends based on something other than her last name. Growing up in Connecticut, her last name was always the first thing someone asked of her.Chloe...?They would trail off leaving her name dangling in the air like a fishhook. Wait for her to complete the moniker thatwould determine her relevance. As soon as she saidClifford, the tension in their face fled.

Ah, it’s fine, she’s one of us.

Chloe was a little embarrassed to admit she’d taken comfort in that at one time.

Acceptance based on wealth she’d done nothing to earn or deserve.

She’d had a lot of friends in Connecticut, but never anyone she would tell her deep, dark secrets to. They were friends who got together at parties or at the club and gossiped about one another. Dropped risqué details about their sex lives for clout. Complained about wanting to get out of Darien, but notreallywanting to leave, just to go on their next vacation.

Chloe had fit in as best she could, mainly to please her mother. However, she’d learned early that giving in to her mischievous impulses earned her points with the group. That was who she’d become. Chloe, the thief. Chloe, the charming con, able to talk her way out of trouble while everyone giggled nearby. Once, her friends had driven onto the golf course and parked in a circle facing one another with their headlights on, music blasting, a flash mob dance party, of sorts.

When the police arrived, they’d shoved Chloe in their direction as their spokesperson, and she’d tearfully explained to them they’d all gotten lost. And thank goodness the cops were there to lead them back to the road. It had worked. But it hadn’treallyworked, had it? The truth was, she’d neveractuallybeen in danger of getting into trouble. Her little bubble wasn’t designed for anything but a scot-free existence.

Not anymore, though. Not after last night.

Her blinders had well and truly been ripped off.

“How long have you been in Boston?” asked Elton, distracting her.

“Six months,” Chloe responded, pinkie waving at Pierre. Was he asleep or dead? “I’m from Connecticut, but I gratefully consider this home now.”

Elton looked around, squinting. “You like Boston that much, huh?”

“Yes. I never want to leave. I could explore one street every day for the rest of my life and still never see it all.” She thought of the arena, Grace’s penthouse, the discovery of the dog park right down the street from her house. She had to have walked past it before and never noticed it until today. “It’s a town that gets familiar fast, but remains kind of a mystery, too.”

A grin was spreading across his face. “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

She smiled. “Well, now we both can.”

Elton was seriously cute. Lanky. Six foot one, maybe? Sandy brown hair. Crow’s-feet that extended from the corners of his wraparound sunglasses. But she’d meant what she’d said—Elton wasn’t her type. Whatwasher type, though?

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