Page 89 of Win Big

“If you came back with a broken leg, you’d be so deep in fecal matter.”

“I know, I know.” He grimaces and holds his hands up. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Had tons of fun.”

“I assume that involves women.”

Arvid laughs. “Oh yeah.”

“I don’t get why the chicks go for the Swedish guy,” Jimmy complains. “Swedes are boring.”

“We’re not boring. We’re just reserved. She thought I look like Alexander Skarsgård.”

I nod. “You do!”

“And I play hockey,” he adds modestly.

I laugh.

“Also,youcan’t talk,” Arvid says to Derek. “You were with a different woman every night.”

Derek shrugs.

“That chick you were with last night,” Jimmy says to Derek. “What was her name?”

“Lola.”

“Right.”

Derek sighs. “Man, she could suck a bowling ball through a cocktail straw.”

I choke on my tuna.

“Oh, uh . . . sorry, Everly,” he says.

I wave a hand. “No worries. I have three brothers.”

“Don’t remind us,” Jimmy says. “We’re trying to pretend you’re not a Wynn.”

“Keep it up,” I encourage them. “I’m fine with that.”

“You gonna see her again?” Wyatt asks Derek.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Still don’t understand why you didn’t come with us.”

Wyatt’s face tightens and his eyes flicker. He smiles, but it’s a little strained. “I told you I hate snow.”

“I seem to remember that you love snowboarding,” Jimmy says. “But guys, shut up, we can see now why he didn’t want to leave town.” He waves a hand back and forth between me and Wyatt.

I know that’s not the reason he didn’t go with them, and I’m curious. But I keep that to myself.

The guys share funny stories from their trip, including how Derek met the woman who can suck bowling balls through cocktail straws, when she was too afraid to let go of the lift and was swinging through the air before dropping to the ground. He was on the lift right behind her and skied right over to rescue her. Luckily, she wasn’t hurt.

Then Wyatt tells them about our crazy night out that ended with us breaking into a church, and they howl with laughter. I’m laughing too, reliving it.

The guys order food, we get more drinks, we’re all laughing our asses off and I realize, once again... I’m having fun.

Wyatt has his arm around my shoulders, resting on my chair back; we’re close enough together that our thighs are touching. He’s very handsy, brushing fingertips over my hand, my cheek, squeezing my shoulder. It’s so affectionate and heart-melting, and I’m just a big squishy pillow, listening to him and his friends trash-talk one another with genuine friendliness. It’s all the more impressive when I recall that he hasn’t even known these guys that long, having joined the team last season.

When we finally call it a night, Wyatt murmurs to me, “Come to my place?”

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