My eyes flicker to…heragain, and my chest tightens. It was bad enough when she was wearing a cami top and jeans at the wine store, but now she’s in front of me in sweaty gym wear, and it takes all the strength I have to peel my eyes away.
“Do we get a say in who our partners are?” Sophia asks, raising her hand.
“Absolutely not,” snaps Renee. “In fact, Darrell and I came together to pair you up with people we believe you’ll be least compatible with.”
Samuel scoffs beside me. “Like an anti-matchmaking service?”
I can see Darrell fighting a smile, and I know he finds this almost as ridiculous as we all do. But Peter’s the boss, and what he says goes. ”If you want to call it that, yes.”
I run a hand down my face. We need the extra time to train, and instead, Peter is adamant about mopping up our image.
You know what’ll really clean up our image? Winning.
A baby’s cry whips me from my thoughts, and I turn my head to see Evan storming through the tunnel, holding onto his two-year-old son, Leo, with one arm. Droplets of tears dribble down Leo’s chubby cheeks, and Evan presses a soft kiss to the side of his head before glaring out at the rest of us.
His growly behaviour causes me to chuckle.
“Evan West, how many times have I told you, no children at meetings? And you’re late,” Darrell groans, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose as Evan approaches us.
“When Leo’s nannies learn to be on time, then so will I.”
“Are they actually late, or did you fire another one?” I laugh.
“Fuck off, Slater,” he huffs, but it’s all friendly.
Bennett gasps, leaning forward to place his hands over Leo’s tiny ears, causing the small child to stop crying and giggle. “That’s no way to talk in front of a kid.”
“Oh, come on, Quinn. He’s heard worse.”
I feel sorry for Evan. Leo’s mother wants nothing to do with either of them. Not only did she pack up and leave once Leo was born, but she hasn’t called since. She’s living it up, now engaged to some famous hockey player, and I doubt she’s been truthful about birthing a child to her fiance. Not even the media know who Leo’s mother is.
Renee clicks her fingers at us—trying to gain our attention—as if we’re dogs. “This is what I’m talking about—fools… all of you. Listen out for your names and your partner. We want you to choose somewhere to volunteer with your group. We have some charity events lined up that we’ll all be attending, too. But we can talk about those during another meeting.”
I’m hoping I’ll be paired with someone like Sophia or Madison. I don’t know much about them, but I’ve spoken to them in passing a few times. They seem like easy girls to work with, and that’s what I need—an easy ride.
Anyone buther.
Because she looks like a fucking rollercoaster.
And I hate rollercoasters.
I keep my arms crossed as I listen.
“Madison and Evan, Kelly and Samuel, and Clara and Jason and Rebecca and Michael…”
My throat feels tight. I don’t knowhername, but judging by how she hasn’t reacted, it hasn’t been called out yet. I arch my eyebrows daringly at Renee as she glances at me, her mouth downturned before continuing to read the names and groups.
Her eyes are deadly. Challenging.
“Lastly, Bennett and Poppy,” she pauses, “and Nathan and my daughter, Mae.”
My lungs constrict, and I glance down atheras she follows Renee’s gaze, her hazel eyes widening as they quickly rake over my body before focusing back on my taut face.
Fuck me.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
Because not only am I partnered up with this girl who causes my self-control to shed with every look she gives me, but she’s Renee Bexley’s fucking daughter.
