Page 151 of Renegade Rift

Juliet smiles against my lips, and gives a sly look toward the scoreboard jumbotron where our faces are plastered on the giant screen. “Well, I guess everyone knows now.”

My spine steels with the need to protect her. “Are you okay with that?”

Before Juliet can answer, someone calls my name from just beyond the dugout. She’s a tall brunette with dark-rimmed glasses and a whimsical smile on her face that tells me she just witnessed everything and is a whole-hearted romantic. What worries me is the badge around her neck—Sports Now. She’s a reporter, and while she’s not withThe Foul Line,that doesn’t mean I trust her as far as I could throw her.

I move to step in front of Juliet, but she places her hand on my chest and stops me.

The brunette takes the free moment to shoot her shot. “Are you Julietta Martinez? Or is it, Etta?”

There’s no accusation in the reporter's voice, but I don’t like that she’s talking to Juliet or the questions she’s asking.

Maybe I’m being the overprotective Hulk, but I can’t help it.

Apparently, my team can’t either because Bishop, Carson, and Smitty all take a step out of the dugout toward the reporter.

Juliet waves us all off and steps forward.

“I’m only going to go on the record saying any of this once, and only because you aren’t withThe Foul Line, so I suggest you pay attention and record this or whatever it is you need to do.”

The brunette leans in and lifts the small recording microphone in her hand. “Go on.”

“My name is Juliet Cruz.”

My mouth gapes, and my heart fucking soars.

Not Etta.

Juliet.

Myname for her.

“Yes, I was the wife of Tyler Martinez, former member of the Renegades. Yes, I disappeared for a period of time after his death. No, I will not be commenting on the details surrounding that. Yes, I am dating Ford McCoy. Yes, he was at one time my late husband’s stepbrother. No, I will not be taking any comments, thoughts, or criticisms on my choice to be with him. He’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

Fuck. That was—I don’t think anyone has ever claimed me so publicly or so thoroughly.

The reporter smiles and Juliet adds. “Oh, and my dress is from Target and has pockets in case anyone wants to know.”

I wrap my arm around Juliet and press a kiss to her temple, but really, it’s so I can hide any evidence of the raging hard on beneath my cup. Sliding my lips to the shell of her ear, I whisper, “I hope you know that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Juliet chuckles and leans into my touch.

“Thank you for giving me a moment of your time, Ms. Cruz.” The brunette sets the microphone down and offers Juliet her hand. “I’m Lennon by the way, and off the record, I love that you’re speaking out and not letting that trash publication win.”

Juliet’s cheeks tinge pink, still not used to receiving praise. “Thanks.”

I snake my arm around her waist and turn her toward my team, waiting for us outside the dugout. The stadium is now close to full, and we’re inching closer to pregame ritual time and the national anthem.

As we reach the guys, Carson crosses his arms. The epitome of calm cool, and collected on the outside, but I’d bet money he’s losing it below the surface.

“So,” he says, “are you guys official?”

“That depends,” Juliet muses. “Are you going to take credit?”

Carson presses his hand to his heart and tips his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear, Etta.”

A Cheshire grin pulls at her lips. “It’s Juliet.”

“Juliet,” Carson rolls the name over his tongue, and I’m back to wanting to deck him. “I like it.”

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