Page 24 of Shot Taker

The guy in the suit says something, and Clay grins—that slow, reluctant smile that used to make me melt.

For a moment he looks genuine, the guy who put my drawings out in public and who covers for his teammate.

I pull out my phone and start to type out a response to his text.

Except when I look up, a group of women are swarming him, and it’s like a bucket of ice over my head.

I delete the message without sending it and turn back to the bar, ignoring the disgust in my stomach.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Brooke declares, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the floor.

I toss back my drink and follow her. We throw ourselves into the music as the alcohol buzzes through my system.

The track changes to Drake, and she throws her hands in the air. With every beat drop, every chorus, every remix, I’m more relaxed.

Especially when we go back for a second drink.

“Who did you tell we were coming tonight?” I whisper-shout in her ear. “Jayden or Miles?”

“Miles. Why?”

I lift a shoulder as I spin in a circle. “Just curious.”

I spot him at the bar with Rookie, a blonde and a brunette on either side of them. But Miles is looking toward the dance floor, the smile on his face lingering as he lays eyes on Brooke.

“Did anything ever happen between you two?”

She grabs my arms. “Why do you ask?”

“Because he seems into you.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “He’s into himself.”

Another guy comes over to dance, and Brooke moves toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. I go to grab another drink and run into Miles.

“Having fun?” he asks.

“Mhmm. Brooke’s brand of fun is contagious.”

We both look toward the floor where she’s still dancing with the guy. Except now she’s scanning the crowd as if she’s over it and looking to get away. She walks away, but he follows her.

Miles stiffens at my side. Brooke spots us and cuts our way, the guy still coming after her. Miles steps between them.

“Outta my way,” the guy spits. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It’s about her, it’s about me,” Miles says, deadly calm.

“Wait, I know you. You’re on the Kodiaks.”

The guy's grin fades, and he lifts both hands, appreciating how outmatched he is. He accidentally bumps me as he walks away, and I nearly spill my drink, but a hand closes around my wrist, another at my waist.

I look up to see Clay hovering over me.

His hair curls around his ears, still damp from his shower. He’s wearing a dark dress shirt, the top button undone. The sleeves are rolled to expose some of the black ink that enthralled me the first time we met.

He’s so gorgeous it hurts to look at him.

But as the women in the booth give me dagger eyes, I can’t resist engaging.

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