Page 25 of Fair Play
Fuck-fuck-fuck.
I stare down at her, and the sincerity in her eyes is going to undo me.
I’m in so much fucking trouble.
Chapter 9
Billie
It’s beena while since I’ve been out on a date, and I spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what to wear. I was almost late to work, I spent so much time digging through the two suitcases that house my wardrobe. I hung a few dresses in Bodi’s closet, but my suitcases live on the floor of his room, so I have to be careful to get my stuff the night before since I’m usually up before him.
The current living situation is fine short-term, but I need more privacy and somewhere to put my stuff. Bodi and I talked and he said we’d make a decision about what to do once the season is over since it’s just a few months. He doesn’t want to kick Rome out, and I wouldn’t allow that anyway, but it’s impossible to know what will happen in the off-season as far as trades and such, so we’re in a holding pattern.
And today’s dilemma was frustrating.
I settled on black leggings with crisscross cutouts going down the side of each leg, a form-fitting red sweater that shows offmy figure but is long enough to cover my backside, and black knee-high boots with a small heel. It’s been chilly this week, so I grabbed a black suede blazer at the last minute and I’m glad I did as I walk up to the restaurant.
The lot was overflowing and I had to drive four blocks away to find street parking. The place is hopping and it’s a good thing Nita is expecting me because the line is out the door and down the block.
“Hey.” Rome walks up at the same time I do, and I take a moment to drink him in.
Damn.
He’s wearing black jeans, a red Henley, a black leather jacket, and black biker boots.
And I want to walk up and wrap my arms around him. Maybe lick him and tell him he’s mine.
I don’t, of course, but I want to.
“We’re twins,” I say instead.
He looks me up and down and nods. “It looks so much better on you than me.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“As long as it gets me past this line.” He glances down the street. “This is nuts.”
“It is. But we have an in. Come on.” I walk inside and stride past the line to the hostess stand. “Hi. I’m Billie Michener. Nita said she’s reserved a table for me?”
The teenage hostess grins. “She did. Follow me!”
She leads us to a booth in the back where it’s a little quieter, but the place is amazing.
Elvis’s “Jailhouse Rock” is blasting on the jukebox, there are waiters and busboys skating back and forth like pros, carrying trays of food, dirty dishes, menus, and more.
Every table is full and from a brief look around, it appears that everyone is having fun, young and old alike.
Rome whistles quietly. “She’s done an amazing job with this.”
“It’s awesome,” I breathe.
“Welcome.” A good-looking guy wearing jeans, sneakers, and a white T-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled into one sleeve, greets us with menus and water. “I’m Wade and I’ll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Light beer?” Rome asks.
“Coming right up.”
“Just water for me,” I say.
