Page 7 of Tequila Tuesdays

I pointed my finger at his sternum. “Andyounever apologized for making such a biased, shitty comment.”

His eyes narrowed again. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Val. You and some of your teammates, who looked like prison inmates from San Quentin, make more smartass remarks than any other team in the league.”

“Thanks, Dimples.” I took his comment as a compliment. “But I think your Barbie and Ken team gets the prize in that category. It’s too bad Sebastian doesn’t play anymore. He’s the only one who wasn’t a preppy jerk. And maybe Zeke.”

“None of us are preppy, for fuck's sake.”

I held up a finger. “Johanna.”

He stopped and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, maybe Johanna. And how do you know Sebastian?” He watched me intently. “He’s Laurel’s boyfriend.”

“Huh. I never would have put those two together, but I can somehow see it. It would be hard for even him to be a jerk to her.”

He stepped closer to me. “How do you know Sebastian?” he asked again.

It was a strange question, and I squinted at him. “From Grace and Sheila. And his company helps a few of us who live on this street with maintenance and repairs.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Noooo,” I dragged out like he was stupid. “From volleyball too. And even though he was a bit of an ass, he never said mean things about my teammates. I liked him.”

Damien folded his arms. “Yeah, you would.”

I had to look up at Damien when I talked to him. It annoyed me since I could look most men straight in the eyes. I stepped back.

“Let me give you a little advice, Ken with dimples. You don’t want to call my teammates Walmart parking lot rejects or San Quentin inmates to my face again unless you want another hard spike to your face. Or a knee to your balls.”

“My name’s Damien, Val. And it’s hypocritical when you get pissed off at me for accurately describing your team. I recognize a couple of them from my time as a police officer.”

When I opened my mouth to retort, he put up a hand and continued. “But if some of my comments offended you, I apologize.”

His apology took all the wind out of my sails. I let out a long, loud sigh and some of the tension drained out of me.

I reached up and touched the small scar on my cheekbone. “My name’s not Val. Or Valkyrie. It’s Harley. And I accept your apology.” I didn’t sound happy about it.

He blinked at me as if waiting for something. “And?”

“And what?”

“And you apologize for smashing the ball in my face and almost breaking my nose.”

I stared at him but kept my mouth shut. I didn’t like to lie.

“Right?” He glared at me.

My gaze slid away.

“So you’re not sorry?” He searched my face like he really wanted to know.

I sighed again. “Not really, all right? I think you hurt Jaime’s feelings. And Frankie’s been working on her self-esteem issues.” I picked up my drink.

He stared at me for a few seconds, like I’d surprised him. His head tilted. “Where’d you meet your teammates?”

My eyes slid away from his. “Around.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Who organized your team?”

“People,” I muttered.

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