Page 135 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

Asher: On it or in it?

Me: Nope. This isn’t happening.

Asher: What isn’t happening?

Me: I texted you to make fun of the fact that you were tackled by a rabid streaker on national television.

Asher: …

Me: Excellent use of that by the way.

Asher: Thanks, Socks.

Me: But I still win this conversation.

CHAPTER35

SLOANE

The knock on the door startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Logan was lifting weights with the guys, and I was anticipating a quiet evening until he got home. I had settled in on the couch, a blanket thrown over my lap, trying to relax.

Another knock.

I hesitated, still not used to the fact that this was kind of my place now too—at least until they decontaminated my condo. Something that seemed to be encountering delay after delay. At this point I wasn’t sure when I’d be back there.

Or if I actually wanted to.

Everett had still been silent…something that didn’t make me feel any better.

And then there was the fact that Logan was still paying him for my time…

Fuck. My life was a mess.

I got up and walked toward the door, the sound of my footsteps muffled by the big rug Logan and I had picked out the other day for the foyer.

Cracking the door open, I peeked through, only to find Blake, Monroe, Olivia, and Anastasia standing on the other side. Blake and Monroe held up bottles. “I’ve got wine,” Blake grinned.

“And I’ve got the non-alcoholic stuff if you don’t drink,” said Monroe.

I stared at them, blinking, unsure of what to do.

“Are you going to let us in?” Olivia laughed, grinning from ear to ear. “The boys are all busy, so we figured it’s the perfect time for a girls’ night!”

My brain short-circuited. “A…girls’ night?”

Before I could process it, Olivia pushed the door open wider and slipped past me. “Yep. It’s time.”

Anastasia followed, tossing her bag onto the couch. She flashed me a quick smile. “I brought cheese.”

Monroe snorted. “She means she brought charcuterie. So lots of things.”

“But cheese is the important part,” Anastasia commented as she unwrapped the baking sheet she’d brought with her and unveiled a delicious charcuterie arrangement—with definitely more than just cheese.

“Ooh, give me that dark chocolate almond,” Blake said, grabbing a few off the tray.

Anastasia smacked her hand, and Blake made a pouty face at her. “Sloane has to go first because we took over her place.” She turned and held the tray out for me.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at them and trying to resist the urge to cry. I’d once been fooled into thinking that I wanted to be like the women Everett had working for him, that they were who I should aspire to be in life.

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