Page 100 of Wild Then Wed
I set my phone face down on the table. Less than a minute later, it buzzes and I blink. That was fast.
I flip it over and see his name on the screen. My stomach does something annoying.
Sawyer:Happy Thanksgiving. They were. How was yours?
I smile at that. Just a little. Not enough for anyone to notice.
Me:Spades is starting to get out of hand. Kind of wish you were here to see it.
I stare at the message for half a second too long before hitting send. It’s fine. Casual. Not a big deal. Friends say that kind of thing to each other. Right?
Three dots appear almost immediately. Then—
Sawyer:Kind of? ??
I roll my eyes.
Me:Fine. Not kind of. Happy? ??
Sawyer:That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Are you sick?
I stare at the message a second longer than I need to. Then press the edge of my phone against my bottom lip, trying not to smile like an idiot.
Damn him.
“Wren,” Ridge says, his voice cutting through the buzz of conversation, “you playing this round or what?”
It snaps me back to the room like cold air through a cracked window. I slip my phone into my pocket and blink away whatever those texts from Sawyer stirred up.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m in.”
Sage lifts her hand from the back of the chair next to me. “I’m playing with Wren.”
Ridge grabs the deck and starts shuffling with way too much flair. “Miller’s with me.”
Miller, who’s been lounging with her wineglass like a queen observing peasants, turns her head slowly in his direction like he’s just spoken in tongues.
“No, I’m not,” she says flatly.
Ridge pats the chair beside him. “Yeah, you are.”
Miller sets down her glass. “I don’t even know how to play…whatever this is,” she says, waving vaguely at the cards.
“You’ve never played Spades?” Sage asks, her tone somewhere between disbelief and pity.
Lark laughs from the other side of the room, a plate of cake now in hand, Boone’s palm lazily rubbing up and down her thigh. “I don’t think Miller’s played a card game in her entire life.”
“Excuse you,” Miller says, indignant. “I was too busy studying for the bar and figuring out how to ruin men’s lives.”
“Seems like you’ve kept up with the latter,” Ridge says, grinning as he cuts the deck.
Miller glares at him. “What if I make us lose? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“You won’t,” he says, like that’s a guarantee written in blood. Then softer, “Just sit down, Millie.”
“Stop calling me that.”
But she sits. Reluctantly. She scoots her chair a few inches away from his.
