Page 6 of The Triple Play

Cole leveled a glare at him, leaning back on the bar and quietly giving the order for three Blue Moons to the bartender before training his eyes back on us. “Suck it up, buttercup. I can drag both of you home right now if you’d rather. I’m sure she’s not staying long enough for you two to get in your cars and race all the way back here.”

I glanced over at Annie, watching as she slowly packed up her things. Goddammit, he was right. I wouldn’t have time. “Fine,” I huffed, raising a palm and a fist.

Colton groaned dramatically, but finally joined in, the three of us standing around like idiots about to play a game for a girl one of us wasn’t even interested in.

“Rock.”

“Paper.”

“Scissors.”

“Shoot.”

I stared in utter horror and irritation at Cole’s choice of scissors. The fucking bastard always chooses rock, and apparently, Colton and I had been on the same page — we’d both gone for paper.

Chapter4

Cole

Scissors. I knew I'd beat the suckers.

I completely ignored Colton’s incessant string of words as I turned back to the bar, tapping my card on the reader and collecting the beers. I shoved one into each of their chests and picked up my own, rolling my eyes as theybothtried to talk me out of it, tried to insist why they should have won instead. I’d called the shots —

I had to reap the rewards, even though I was feeling a little nervous.

Annie was fairly easy to spot, and I had to admit, me and the boys had good taste.

Shewashot — all five-foot-three of her, if that.

She stood beside a bag of equipment, coiling up a cable in her palm with her eyes darting across the bar occasionally. She was far younger than me, probably closer in age to Xavi and Colton, somewhere in her mid-twenties.

But screw it, I could at least talk to her and big the guys up.

I wasn’t used to feeling nervous. Not around women.

But as I watched her wipe down the mic stand with those careful hands, something unfamiliar twisted low in my gut.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t approached anyone in a while—not since my wife left me for a younger teammate and took my faith in relationships with her. Since then, women came to me. Most of the time, I politely turned them down. Sometimes I had to physically walk away.

But this was different.

She was different.

There was something about her—quiet, focused, completely unaware of the effect she had—that made my pulse tick up in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

I wasn’t rusty. I’d just stopped bothering.

But now I found myself adjusting my jacket and rolling my shoulders back like a man about to walk into a fight.

She wasn’t a flame. I’d meant that. But maybe I was about to get burned anyway.

Time to remember how to be charming.

“Heard you had a set,” I said, keeping my tone easy as I stepped closer. Her head snapped up at the sound of my voice.

And then?—

She froze. Like I’d caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

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