Page 66 of Shot Taker

“You weren’t going to cook for thirty?” I tease.

“Do you remember when we tried to cook for ten at the trailer? We nearly burned it down.”

I help her carry the presents inside, laughing the entire time.

* * *

An hour later, Mari and I have changed outfits. She’s wearing a cozy white cashmere sweater, and I’m in a black dress and tights. We’ve fluffed the place and put all the gifts under the huge tree.

“We’re heeeere!” Chloe is the first to arrive, bursting in the door with Jay and Brooke in tow.

I’m stunned to see the elegant head of PR wearing dangly red bulb earrings plus an antler headband and a sweater with a Kodiaks bear twisted up in a strand of lights.

Mari stares too. “Who are you, and what have you done with Chloe?”

“Let me be the first to tell you,” Jay says solemnly, “this woman is a Christmas fiend. Every year she’s body-snatched by a giant elf and doesn’t return until New Year's.”

Coming in the door after are Rookie and Miles with Waffles in his arms. When he sets the Frenchie down, I get a good look at his knitted black and gold sweater with H’s emblazoned on every inch.

Chloe slaps two bottles of red wine against Jay’s chest. “Kitchen. Holiday sangria. Now.”

Jay straightens to his full height—he’s shorter than the other guys but still plenty tall to look down at his ex with amusement.

“You’re not the boss of me, elf. We’re not dating.”

She smiles sweetly. “No, but I remember where your balls are, and my nails will be in them in five seconds if you don’t follow orders.”

He lifts both bottles in a sign of grudging surrender, then steps out of his boots and crosses to the other room.

“I’m turning on the game,” Rookie says, heading for the big-screen TV in the living room.

I frown. “I thought the game is over.”

“The LA game,” chorus Jay from the kitchen, Chloe from the dining room, and Harlan, Rookie, and Miles in here.

Coach and Harlan are in the door next.

Everyone’s here except for Clay.

My phone buzzes.

Grumpy Baller: Hey, can you ask Mari if there’s room for three more?

Surprise hits me.

I didn’t talk to him after the game except to send a text saying congrats. I knew he’d be here when he got through his post-routine and media, but now I’m wondering what’s up.

I go to the kitchen. “Hey, Mar? Clay’s asking if he can bring three people.”

“Sure.”

I’m halfway out the door when she calls after me. “Wait, why did he ask you?”

My heart kicks in my chest.

Because we talk every day. Most nights, I fall asleep in his arms. In the morning, I wake up to his heavy breathing. I’m totally falling for him, and I can’t help it.

I shrug. “Maybe no one else was answering their phones.”

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