Page 6 of Tequila Tuesdays

Captain Dimples’ name was Damien. Good to know. My ears rang, and I missed some of what they were saying.

Damien introduced his friend. “This is Zeke Deegan. He’s our other partner.”

So the big guy was Zeke. It sounded like they were also friends and business partners with Sebastian Mendoza.

I could also tell by the funny, expectant look on Zeke’s face that he knew exactly who I was. He seemed to be patiently waiting for Damien to recognize me as well. I didn’t hear most of what Laurel and Damien said to each other; I was too busy quietly freaking out.

Damien turned his dimpled grin on me. “Hello, Harley Emerson. How do you know Grace and Sheila?”

Should I tell him who I was, or pretend ignorance? Zeke would probably tell him if I didn’t.

I crossed my arms. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Damien cocked his head, and his expression sharpened. “Should I recognize you?”

“Yeah. Because I almost broke your nose last fall.”

I saw the second he placed me. His flirty smile slid off, and he instinctively reached up to touch his nose. Then he stepped closer to me. “Valkyrie,” he drawled. “I didn’t recognize you without your Viking braids and spandex shorts.”

Zeke leaned over and started laughing. “Do you still think she’s beautiful?”

Damien must have said something while I’d been freaking out.

“Shut up, Zeke.” He didn’t take his eyes off me.

I watched him cautiously, and he stared back at me.

Laurel broke the silence. “Okay. Someone needs to tell me this story because it sounds like a good one.”

Neither of us said a word, but Zeke was still laughing.

Laurel persisted. “A broken nose? Viking braids? Come on, someone tell me.”

Zeke finally took Laurel’s arm and walked away while Damien and I glared at each other.

I carefully set my drink down and put my hands on my hips. “Stop scowling at me, I didn’t do it on purpose. Quit being such a baby. You kept playing.”

He folded his arms. “You spiked the ball right at my face as hard as you could. How is that not on purpose?”

“You were being a putz, and you shouldn’t have gotten your face in my way.”

“In yourway?” He leaned into me. “You could have hit that ball anywhere you damn well wanted to, and we both know it. Your ball placement is freakishly good.”

“I didn’t break your nose, and you kept playing for God’s sake.”

“The only reason youdidn’tis because I jerked my head to the side at the last second.”

I shrugged. “Probably.”

He stared at me incredulously and took a step closer. “Probably?”

“You want me to lie and make you feel better? Yeah, if the ball would have hit your nose head-on, it probably would have broken it.”

He pinched the nose in question. “And you still don’t give a fuck, do you? You never apologized or said shit to me.”

I glared at him. “That’s not true. I said shit to you. I told you not to fuck with my ‘Walmart parking lot’ teammates.”

He froze at my comment, and his hand slowly lowered.

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