Page 40 of The Pucking Date
The line clicks.
“Hey,” she answers, all warm confidence and just enough bite to make my pulse spike.
“Red,” I say, drawing it out like a dare. “What’re you doing tonight?”
A pause. “Working.”
“Boring,” I say smoothly. “Let me fix that. Come out with me.”
“To what? A round at the Penalty Box? Or maybe a coffee? You know my answer to that already.”
“Not the Penalty Box,” I say, pacing now. “You and me. No Novak family chaperones.”
Adam’s stare could melt steel, but I flash him a grin designed to make his blood pressure spike. Because if I’m going down for this, I might as well enjoy the show.
“Tempting,” she laughs.
“Dinner. A date,” I say. “I’ll wear a shirt with buttons.”
“Wow. A Southern gentleman and a dress code?”
“Say yes, sugar.”
She’s quiet for a beat. Then:
“I can’t,” she says, voice low. “I’ve got plans.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of plans?”
“Oh, you know,” she purrs, voice like honey over broken glass. “Pole dancing class. Wouldn’t want to miss it, gotta stay flexible for all those...athletic demands.”
The mental image hits me like a freight train, and I have to grip the phone tighter to keep from groaning out loud.
Behind me, the room’s gone dead quiet. The guys are watching my every move like it’s a live broadcast.
I turn away, grip tightening on the phone. “Red,” I snarl. “You tryin’ to ruin me, darlin’?”
“Not my fault you can’t handle the visuals.” She giggles, light and unbothered.
I grin. “You keep throwin’ sparks like that, I’m fixin’ to combust.”
“Guess you’ll have to cool off on your own.”
“I will,” I say smoothly. “Right after you say yes.”
“Keep dreamin’, Carolina.”
Click.
I lower the phone slowly. The guys are silent, waiting for the verdict.
“She say yes?” Nate asks, hopeful.
“She said she’s got pole dancing class,” I grind out.
Adam glares at the ceiling like he’s praying for divine intervention. “Jesus Christ. Let me inform all of you fuckers that my sisterdoesn’ttake pole dancing class.”
Wesley groans. “I still need a cold shower.”
