Page 70 of Shot Taker

One eye cracks open. “You mean it?”

I make a decision.

“Come on. Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“But aren’t you meeting Clay after the game?” She sighs, batting her lashes up at me.

“This is more important.”

Her expression brightens. “You want to hang out with me more than your baller boyfriend?”

“Yes, I do.”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders, and a second later, she hugs me back. “Thanks,” she murmurs into my shoulder.

I leave her in her walk-in closet with strict instructions not to come out until she’s wearing something wild and head to my own room to find something.

When I’m flipping through outfits, I hit Clay’s contact and cradle my phone against my shoulder.

“Couldn’t wait?” his low, rumbling voice answers.

“Change of plans tonight. Brooke needs a friend.”

“What happened?” Clay’s concerned, and that makes me fall for him a little harder.

“It’ll be fine, just girl stuff. We’re going to hit a bar and dance and drink and complain about school friends.”

“Tell me the name of the bar. I’ll stop by.”

My hand stills on the hanger of a dress. It would be fun to have him there, especially if he brought some of the guys. But that might not be the best given Brooke's current state of mind.

“I think she wants a simple night out. No Kodiaks.”

When silence comes down the line, I’m worried he took it personally.

“There’ll be a bottle of champagne waiting with her name on it. Plus a car to take you there and back,” he says gruffly.

My lips tug up. “Just a simple night out, huh?” I tease.

“That’s my compromise, Pink. You go out without me, I’m making sure you’re looked after.”

“Thank you.” His gesture makes my chest ache. I tug the dress off the hanger, hold it up in front of me in the mirror. “You’re not mad?”

“No. Text me when you get home.”

My lips curve. “I will.”

I tug my shirt over my head and kick off my leggings, glancing back at the mirror to see the cute lingerie I was planning on wearing for him.

“And in the meantime, I’ll send you a picture to help you make it through.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

* * *

CLAY

“Finisher?” I uncork the bottle and take a sniff, grimacing. “How much are we getting paid to promote this?”

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