Page 67 of Married to Number 22
“Give it a rest, Smitty, yeah?” Gray says, coming up behind us. “It’s late. We’re all ready to be home. Interrogate Aiden another time.”
Smitty sinks down in his seat with a scowl, and I take advantage of his momentary distraction to take a different spot a few rows back.
But my teammate…well, he isn’t one to let go of a thread of gossip.
Hasn’t ever been.
Won’t start tonight.
He just lets Gray pass then stands, spinning to face me, resting his arms on the top of the seat, his eyes locking onto mine as he says, “I’ll get to the bottom of this, A-man. I always do.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Threats.”
“Cool it, Smitty,” Joel says, sinking down beside me. “Or I’ll tell Aiden which store I visited in Vegas.”
For a second, I frown, not getting it.
Then I do.
The wombat.
The only thing that seems to keep Smitty in check.
And, thankfully, it works for me today too.
He shudders and turns back around, dropping into his chair.
I exhale. Joel bumps his shoulder against mine. “It’ll pass.”
“Says who?” I grumble.
“Says the man who’s in his crosshairs.”
I lift my brows in question.
“Since Smitty’s focused on the rest of us”—Joel makes air quotes—“single fuckers.”
There is that.
If I’m off the market, I should eventually be off his radar.
“That’s actually a really good point.” I bumphisshoulder this time. “But in the meantime, maybe I should remind him again thatyou’resingle. Get some of the heat off me.”
Joel’s meets my gaze, challenge written all over his expression. “You do that and I’ll join him in figuring out why this Luna of yours has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, after you not mentioning her”—his lifts his eyebrows—“everand now you’re suddenly married.”
Fuck.
“It’s complicated.”
“No shit,” he deadpans, but then his mouth curves the slightest bit. “Is she as gorgeous as Smitty says?”
“Even more so,” I tell him. “He only saw the outside package that is my Luns. He didn’t even get to see the beauty she has inside her.”
Joel’s expression clears, going completely blank for one long second.
The next, he’s back to the Joel I’ve learned over the last months—quiet and slightly removed from the rest of us, but so easily slipping under the radar that it’s hard to catch a glimpse of the storm he’s hiding beneath that calm, unconcerned exterior.
Or so I’ve thought.
