Page 43 of Make the Play

I take a slow sip of my whiskey, watching her over the rim of my glass. “Just that you didn’t seem to have any complaints the last time I kissed you.”

Her entire body goes rigid, and her eyes flash a deep, molten brown, burning with ado not fucking go therewarning. And because I have absolutely no sense of self-preservation, I go there.

“In fact, I think you liked it.”

Zoe actually vibrates, like her soul just briefly left her body. She blinks at me slowly, then inhales through her nose, sets her drink down, and tilts her head.

“Walton.”

“Carlson.”

“I hate you.”

My grin is slow and insufferable, and I know it. “No, you don’t.”

“I will pour my entire drink on your fucking head.”

I sigh dramatically. “Fine. No kissing. No touching. No fun of any kind.”

“Correct.”

“But if you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

“—you know where to find me.”

She glares. I sip my whiskey, unbothered. Then I casually lift my glass toward hers.

“At least have a toast to celebrate with me.”

“Celebrate what?”

I let the pause stretch, completely fucking hard from the way that little crease between her brows deepens.

“You being my girlfriend.”

The exact moment the words sink in, her entire face morphs into unfiltered horror. I bite back a laugh as she recoils, brows snapping together, jaw clenching like she’s about to implode.

“I amnotyour girlfriend.”

I grin. “Technically—”

“Chase.”

There it is. My name, that sharp warning tone, like she’s one second away from snapping. It’s so fucking hot.

I clink my glass against hers before she can finish. “To my new girlfriend.”

Zoe lets out a loud, exasperated growl.

Gary looks up from behind the bar with a sigh. “Don’t think I won’t kick you two out on your asses, too!”

Zoe slams her drink down and stomps away.

I smirk, calling after her, “That’s not very girlfriend-like of you!”

She flips me off as she heads to the bathroom, and fuck it, I grin. Because somehow, I just pulled this off.

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