Page 276 of Coach
Matt pointed, grinning. “Yo—you guys together?”
The man nodded.
Matt tilted his head. “Blink twice if youwere forced into that shirt.”
The room howled.
The woman laughed and smacked her husband’s arm.
Matt leaned forward conspiratorially. “You bought it for him, didn’t you?”
She nodded through tears of laughter.
“And yet he still wore it.” Matt clutched his chest. “That’s love, folks. Or Stockholm Syndrome. It’s hard to tell with the inside of a pussy wrapped around the outside of that man.”
Squeals mixed with groans.
“Well, despite the shirt, I’m glad you’re here,” Matt said. Just as he made to turn, he looked back and added, “Just try to keep that pussy shirt in check, okay?”
The crowd was his. Just like that, he commanded the room.
He pivoted, scanning further, spotting the bachelorette party at the far end of the room.
“Oh, shit.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “We’ve got a bachelorette table? Y’all trying to black out before the second comic?”
The women screamed, waving pink sashes and plastic tiaras.
Matt laughed. “Who’s the lucky one?”
A woman in the center raised her hand. She wasalready three—or six—cocktails in.
Matt pointed. “I know it’s you, honey. You’re the only one wearing a tiara the size of a car tire.”
More laughter.
He leaned on the stool, smirking. “So how long you been with your man?”
She shouted something incoherent.
Matt cupped his ear. “Two years? Ten? Since fifth grade? I need a number, girl!”
“Three!” she yelled.
Matt nodded sagely. “Three years . . . and he still proposed? You must be doing something right . . . probably something illegal in three states, but I respect it. Do what ya gotta do, that’s what I say.”
The place lost it again.
Shane was chuckling beside me, enjoying the show.
Me? I was trying not to vibrate out of my chair.
Because Matt’s eyes kept roaming. He was just warming up, working left to right.
And we were next in the sweep.
I could feel it.
I glanced at Shane, my heart racing. The man looked like a goddamn centerfold tonight—flannel sleeves pushed up, forearms flexed, jaw carved from stone. And me? Sitting beside him like a deer in headlights.
