Page 73 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“That outfit.”
The heels give her a couple of inches, but she’s still so small I could toss her over my shoulder without breaking stride.
“What? You don’t like it?” She flutters her lashes at me.
“I like it too much. That’s the problem.”
She gives me a naughty smile that undoes me. “Good to know.”
I let her go join her friends, but I don’t stray far. I stick close to her like a second skin. Like hell I’ll let her strut around in that outfit without monitoring her.
Coach Ryan enters with his sweet fiancée Wren on his arm. She takes off when she sees the women, shyly saying hi to the group, who immediately welcome her with open arms.
Ryan strolls over to where I’m stationed at the bar, nodding hello. “Hope we’re not crashing anything. Ivy told Wren to come. I feel a little like an interloper, dropping in and spying on the team when you’re having a few drinks.”
I wave him over. “You’re more than welcome. Tonight seems to be more about what the ladies want than where I want to be.”
“That tracks.” Ryan grins. “I admit I’m wrapped around Wren’s little finger. I go wherever she wants to go.”
I order a beer and a gin and tonic with half a dozen limes, keeping one eye on the conversation as the rookies flood in. Shane’s already loud, doing tequila shots with Connor and the other young guys, creating their own little chaos bubble in the corner.
“Yo, Hunter!” Shane calls out, waving a shot glass. “Come show these losers how it’s done!”
“I’m good,” I call back.
“Scared you can’t keep up with the rookies?”
Connor snorts. “Dude, Hunter could drink you under the table.”
I wave them off. I’m not getting into a pissing contest with a twenty-one-year-old. The established players cluster near the bar where Silas sits quietly, staring off into space. He looks creepy, but I know my brother well. He’s running hockey stats in his head. It’s what he does when he’s bored or uncomfortable. Thorne and Grayson guard the VIP section like bouncers, watching everything with veteran awareness.
I take Juliet her drink, which she accepts with a coy smile that makes heat creep up my neck.
“Thanks, darling,” she purrs.
The conversation flows around us, but I’m distracted by every movement she makes. She gestures in a certain way when she talks. The way she throws her head back when she laughs at something Wren says. Her fingers play with the rim of her glass and I can’t stop noticing.
When Ivy shows up late in a short dress that makes half the team stop talking, the energy shifts. Shane immediately tries his luck and gets destroyed.
“Hey gorgeous, want to dance?” he sidles up with his signature cocky grin.
Ivy looks him up and down slowly. “Nice try, rookie. Maybe when you graduate kindergarten.”
The entire rookies’ table erupts in laughter. Shane takes it like a champ, raising his shot glass in defeat.
“Respect,” he says, backing away. “I had to try.”
I stretch out and put an arm around Juliet. To my surprise, she allows it, leaning into me slightly. Jett immediately starts giving me shit.
“Look at Hunter, all whipped already,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Shut up, Jett.”
“It turns out that our boy has feelings.”
“Drop it.”
“Never.” Jett grins. “This is too entertaining. You should see your face right now.”
