Page 4 of Shootout Daddies
He takes a drag, then leans against the railing beside me, leaving just enough distance that I don’t feel crowded.
There’s something relaxed about him. Heavy-lidded gaze. Slow, confident way he moves. A man who knows exactly how much space he takes up—and likes it that way.
“Congrats on the game,” I say after a beat. “That was one hell of a third period.”
He glances at me sideways, lips quirking. “You were watching?”
I nod. “Yeah. Tanner got me a ticket and I’ll be honest, so much better than watching it on the screen.”
He takes another drag. “Right. You’re Brooke’s friend? I think I’ve seen you up in the stands before.”
“Uh-huh! I’m Ivy.”
“Rhett.” His gaze lands on me like a hand sliding over bare skin. He exhales, smoke curling up. “You in gaming too?”
“Law.”
He whistles under his breath. “Brains and beauty.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s smiling at me like I’m the most interesting thing on this rooftop. His teeth are perfect—white and straight—and there’s a tiny scar on his chin, like he once got into a fight and won.
He opens his mouth to say something else when the door behind us swings open again.
“Rhett,” someone calls. “Dude, you disappeared.”
Hunter Grayson steps out, wearing black slacks and a maroon dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His dirty blond hair is a little too long to be regulation, curling around his ears in soft waves. Bright green eyes—alive, mischievous. He’s got the kind of energy that fills every room whether you want it to or not.
He spots the cigarette and groans. “Man, you’re terrible. I thought you told me you quit that.”
“Missed you too,” Rhett says, grinning.
They shake hands with that easy roughness men have when they like each other.
Hunter turns to me, flashing a boyish grin. “Oh. Didn’t know we had company. And you are?”
“Ivy.”
He steps forward to shake my hand but fumbles his glass. Whiskey splashes down my leg.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He crouches instantly, pulling a bar napkin from his pocket. Rhett crouches too, and suddenly they’re both at my legs, patting and dabbing and apologizing.
I wave them off. “It’s fine. I promise. The dress is black, and it’s the end of the night anyway.”
Rhett looks up at me from where he’s crouched. “You’re taking this well.”
“It was an accident, so we’re good.”
They laugh. I’m hyperaware of how close they are. How warm. Rhett’s fingers graze my ankle. Hunter’s breath hits my bare knee.
And my body?
My body isveryaware.
They stand. I’m a little out of breath now. Their bodies. The closeness. The heat radiating off them. It’s not just the alcohol. It’s something else. Somethingalive.
“You good?” Tanner’s voice calls from the doorway.
I straighten.When did he even get here?“Yeah, just a minor whiskey incident.”
