Page 23 of Hard Hitter

“And?”

“It’s fine—a salad is a salad—but the company can’t be beat.” She nodded at Mac explaining a play using French fries and cherry tomatoes.

Eva reached over and ate one of the defenders as Mac loudly complained. Under the table, Chloe’s leg pressed against mine. Her eyes stayed on Mac’s drama, but the weight of awareness settled in my chest.

Her gaze flicked up at me, and I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Our crew had plenty of women join us for lunch, but only Chloe elicited this kind of response.

Mac swept the rest of his veggie teams onto his plate, setting it back on the table with a clatter. “Okay, enough chit-chat. I have a serious topic.”

Shaw groaned. “I’m not weighing in on shaving your chest again. Once was enough.”

“Nah, man. I’m working with this 5K for one of my classes, and I think we should sign up.” Mac grinned, like he’d presented us with the best idea all day.

Chloe sent him a horrified look. “You want us to what?”

“Run a 5K. It’s only three miles, barely a warm-up.”

She snorted. “For you. I don’t run unless something’s chasing me, and even then, there’s a solid chance I’ll just let it take me down.”

RJ snickered, and Mac pouted at her. “You too?”

“Oh hell no. I’ll be running. Someone has to keep your ego in check.”

Mac held up his hands. “It’s for charity—the fourth annual Furry Scurry. All proceeds go to the Lucky Duck Rescue.”

Eva linked her arm through Chloe’s. “I’m not running either, but I agreed to man one of the booths. You can be my booth buddy.”

“Finally, a request in my skill set.” Her gaze landed on me. “Are you going to run, Noah?”

Today was the first I’d heard of Mac’s plan, but I could get in on it if we didn’t have practice or training on race day. “Sure. Shaw?”

Parker stretched his arm behind RJ. “I’ll be there watching my girl smoke Mac. You and I can jog along with the rest of the mortals.”

Mac raised both arms. “It’s settled. Furry Scurry at eight a.m. next Saturday.”

Chloe dropped her head onto her arms. “Dammit, Mac. Physical exertion at eight a.m. should be considered torture.”

I chuckled, thinking about the years I’d spent getting up early to go work out. “We’ll make it worth your while.”

She turned her head to peek at me. “Promise?”

Her quiet question sounded innocent, but I could see the speculation in her eyes. Chloe was still playing the game.

Too bad I couldn’t resist playing right along with her.

“Yeah, Chloe. I promise.”

She gave me a half-smile and nudged my leg. “Go get your food. And bring me some French fries, please.”

I nodded my head once and stood, fully aware that she had me wrapped around her finger. If she wanted fries, I’d bring her an entire plate. Halfway to the buffet, my phone vibrated in my pocket with a call.

Everyone I’d actually take a call from was sitting in the corner, which didn’t negate the chance that one of them was lazy and wanted me to grab something extra. I juggled two stoneware plates and yanked my phone free.

A random number with an area code I didn’t recognize scrolled across the screen. Spam call, probably. I sent it to voicemail, just in case, and went in search of fries.

8

Iwas going to kill Mac. Mornings were the worst, and happy, fit people stretching with big smiles on their faces could fuck right off. A tall, skinny guy wearing shorts only slightly longer than a Speedo blocked my path as he jogged in place. I considered kicking him in the shin, but it seemed like too much effort.

---