Page 41 of Sweeper
“I narrate romance novels.” She winks up at him. “Do you want to hear an excerpt?”
“Abso-fuckin-lutely,” Link answers and shoulder-bumps me out of the way.
I gladly give them some space as I walk over to the table and try not to stare at Daphney like I haven’t pictured her naked four hundred and twenty-two times.
“Congratulations on the win, Soccer Boy,” Daphney says with a bright smile, holding her glass of beer out to me. “You played the whole match.”
“Bloody hell right, he did!” Booker bellows, holding his beer up. “Welcome to Bethnal Green, Williams!”
The guys all cheer and clink glasses with me before taking a sip. I swallow the knot in my throat and move closer to Daphney. “So, you watched?”
Her cheeks turn a rosy hue in front of me, and I swear I have tunnel vision right now because all I can see is Daphney. She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. “Nothing else good on the telly.”
I laugh and nod. “Oh, I see how it is.” She giggles, and it’s too fucking sexy for her own good. I turn to sit beside her on the table and nudge her with my leg. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a beer drinker.”
“Why not?” she asks, and I have to force myself not to stare at her dark lips.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Most chicks I know drink wine or liquor, I guess.”
“Well, I’m not like most chicks.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I reply quietly as I watch her take a drink, her eyes slightly hooded in a way that makes me think about her in my bed. Pushing back my dirty thoughts, I ask, “So what was the bet you lost?”
She loses all good humor on her face. “You were here for that?”
“Oh yeah,” I confirm, and my cock presses against the seam of my jeans as an image of her singing flashes in my mind.
She covers her eyes with her hands. “That was embarrassing.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about. You sounded…” I exhale a heavy breath and shake my head, my entire body vibrating with awareness. “Amazing.”
She shrugs. “It’s an easy song.”
I roll my eyes. “Just take a compliment, Ducky.”
“Sorry,” she exclaims and holds the beer in her two hands, unable to wipe the smile off her face. “Thank you.”
I watch her curiously for a moment. “Why are you so smiley tonight?”
“I’m not smiley,” she replies with a smile.
“Yes, she is,” Phoebe bellows across from us. “And she’s smiling because she sold her first jingle today and made a boatload of money! You are now looking at the voice of Tire Depot!”
Everyone’s eyes turn to Daphney with a mixture of amusement and genuine appreciation. Booker holds his beer out. “Congratulations, Daph! That’s brilliant.”
“Thanks, Booker.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, clearly not liking all the attention. “Phoebe demanded we celebrate tonight, but it was only then that I realized it was so she could make me pay up on our bet.”
“What was the bet exactly?” I ask again, watching her with rapt fascination because she seems lighter than I’ve ever seen her before, and hell if I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m not even trying anymore at this point.
“She didn’t think she’d sell the bloody song, and she did because she’s brilliant,” Phoebe answers with a knowing glint to her eye. “Now she’s rich and buying all of our drinks tonight!”
Phoebe cheers along with the rest of the guys, and Daphney’s face falls. “I am not paying for drinks,” she exclaims, losing all good humor on her face. “I wrote a song about tires, not jewelry!”
Phoebe laughs good-naturedly and shoots her friend a wink.
I nudge Daphney with my shoulder. “Relax, these guys can definitely afford their own drinks.”
She huffs and takes another drink, her smile from earlier returning.
