Page 83 of Score on You

Drake does the honors. “When’s the wedding, man?”

Garrett’s scrutiny burns into the other side of my face. “Are you about to smile?”

“Told you,” Drake hoots. “Smitten kitten in our midst. He’s lost control of his facial muscles.”

“Damn. Never thought I’d see the day.” Garrett whistles like a plane is about to crash.

The urge to punch them shoots a tremble through my arms, but I don’t break position. My bent elbows stay locked onto my knees.

Meanwhile, Drake chuckles at our buddy’s sound effects. “You’ve become a helluva grill master, Foster. Did we pack wieners to roast?”

“Ridge has a kielbasa we can rake over the coals. Or he used to. Rumor has it, he’s no longer in charge of his own meat. Better check in Callie’s purse.”

Drake nudges me after that eloquent comment from Garrett. “Get it? You’re pussy whipped.”

“Yup,” I grunt.

“At least you can admit it,” Garrett laughs.

“I’ve always wondered how it feels,” Drake muses. “Wanna weigh in on this topic, Evans? You’ve got experience.”

Jake flips him off from across our makeshift circle. The grumpy asshole makes me look like a fluffy unicorn in comparison.

Drake shrugs and chooses the lesser of two evils to annoy. “Do you surrender your balls completely or does Callie just fondle them whenever the mood strikes?”

My temper bubbles to the surface. “Yank that toothpick you consider a dick from your ass and maybe you’ll find out.”

Drake claps after finally managing to provoke me. Such a pathetic victory to celebrate. “I bet getting head on the regular is worth it. Does she spit or—?”

I whack him in the chest with a clenched fist. “Better shut up or you’ll make me mad.”

He doubles over while hacking up a lung. “Shit, Crusher. I’m just fucking with you.”

“Same,” I return.

“Doesn’t feel like it.” He rubs his sternum.

“Find someone who cares.” I blindly wave toward a crowd gathered under the nearby pavilion. “Maybe there’s a single mom who will tend to your wounds.”

After that, the dumbass duo decide to shift gears onto greener pastures. Garrett blows his fiancée a kiss. Feminine laughter snags Drake’s desperation for companionship. Jake’s attention hasn’t strayed from where Harper and Sydney are sliding beads onto string to make bracelets. The fuck-off vibes he’s exuding are potent enough to protect the entire park. That gives me the freedom to stare at Callie until my gaze is likely to burn a hole in her dress. She doesn’t feel the heat of my unwavering interest as she joins in the crafting.

After Drake finishes perusing the options far out of his league, he realizes a comfortable silence has fallen over us. “How did I become the odd fuck out?”

“The fact that you even have to ask, dumbass,” Garrett retorts.

Grace whirls to confront the crude interruption. “There are kids nearby.”

His eyes bulge at her scold. “Did I say fuck? I meant duck.”

“Always fucking with a perfectly good saying,” I mutter.

“Not you too.” The reprimand is aimed at me.

I hold up a palm. “The children are preoccupied. Except this pair.”

“Oh, we’re entertained.”

“Me too,” Sydney chirps. “But you both gotta put a dollar in the curse jar.”

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