Page 68 of The Wingman

“I guess Kit was right.” She makes it sound like a joke, but there’s an added element of vulnerability that has my eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?”

“I brought it up in the past, and he didn’t like the idea.” Her fingers tap on my chest, light and distracted. “It came up again last night. Something about his judgy tone pissed me off.”

A slice of anger hits me in the gut. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Darce.”

She looks up in surprise at my tone.

“You can dye your hair whatever color you want.”

Her mouth tilts and amusement sparks in her eyes before she gestures at our reflection in the mirror. “Well, obviously he knew better than me.”

“We’ll fix it.”

“I’ve washed my hair four times tonight. It’s not coming out.”

“Let’s call in a professional. I’ll get my friend Layla to help.”

“A friend?” She arches an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Notthatkind of friend.” I give her a look. All the women I’ve dated are kind and cool, but I feel weird about Darcy meeting one of them. “She comes here to cut my hair when my schedule’s packed during the season. She’ll be able to fix it.”

Darcy tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I pull out my phone to text Layla before opening my camera app and snapping a picture of Darcy and her ridiculous hair.

Her eyes go wide as she realizes what I’m doing, and I shake with laughter.

“No!” she cries. “I don’t want evidence of this.” She reaches for my phone, but I’m already slipping it back into my pocket.

“Ido.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her, delight spreading through me. “I never want to forget this.”

“Give that to me,” she orders.

I laugh again. “No.”

“Then delete it.”

“Also no.” I beam down at her, batting her hands away as she tries to reach for the phone again. “I love that you’re half my size but think you can overpower me.”

She sighs, stepping back with a determined look, but she’s fighting a smile. “You’re going to put it on t-shirts or something.”

“Now you’re thinking. I’ll get one for everyone on the team.”

“Hilarious.” She does a dry, fake laugh before her expression turns curious. “What was this you said about a present?”

In the kitchen, Darcy pulls the jersey out of the bag and holds it up with a hopeful smile. “For me?”

I laugh. “Yeah, for you. So you can wear it to my games.” Our eyes meet, and I can’t read her expression. “If you want. Obviously, you can wear whatever you want.”

Her gaze lingers on me. “Doyouwant me to wear it?”

I should say something cool and nonchalant, but I just nod.

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