Page 108 of Skate the Line

Why can’t I do that? Because I’m her fucking boss. That’s why.

I shove my hands inside my pockets, and she gives me a once-over. I’m wearing a gray long-sleeve Henley and casual black jeans.

“Ugh,” she whisper-seethes. “I’m going to change.”

The fuck she is. Despite the fire of protection rushing my veins, she looksdamngood.

“Absolutely not.” I slip my hand around her waist and give her a good spin until she’s facing me.

“You look…”Fuck, what do I say?

Marco comes to my rescue and finishes my thought. “Like a twenty-six-year-old who is going out to celebrate her birthday with friends.” He glances at me with a knowing glint. “Where are you two going? The Vault?”

I nod.

“Ah.” He glances back at Sunny. “Very high-end.”

I’m certain Marco has never been there, but he isn’t wrong.

“Are you sure?” Sunny asks, still unsure of herself.

I answer with a flick of my brow.

She furrows hers, and I notice that she has on more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear before.

It isn’t a lot, or too much, but it does make her look older.

Which isn’t going to help my thoughts at all.

“Night, Printsessa.” I dip and place a kiss on Ellie's head.

She hugs both of us, telling Sunny happy birthday once more before taking off for the couch to watch a movie with Marco.

Before I make it out the door, following after Sunny, Marco and I share a look.

His weathered face shows too much.

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly.

The wordbehaveis the last thing I hear before shutting the door behind me.

Thirty-Five

SUNNY

Rhodesand I are very much out of our element.

We stroll into the club after skipping the line—something I can honestly say I have never done before—and stand awkwardly.

“This way.” Rhodes’s hand briefly falls to the small of my back. He walks beside me, never letting me trail, until we get to a big booth tucked in the back of the hazy club.

It’s dark on the dance floor besides a few strobe lights alluding to all the racy dancing happening. The booth is tucked far enough away that it’s not too difficult to hear over the thumping music.

I find Scottie first.

Her eyes light up, and she scrambles out of the booth to envelop me in a hug. “You made it! Happy birthday!”

Rhodes slides next to Emory, who’s sitting beside a few guys that I vaguely recognize. I assume they’re the husbands or significant others of the other girls I’ve spent time with watching the Blue Devils.

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