My brows lift. “Fraternizing with the enemy? No thanks.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I offered. But when we murder your game, just know—I tried to play nice.”
Jeremy scoffs. “Good luck, that trophy is ours.”
Rishi eyes Nolan pointedly. “You in?”
Nolan’s jaw ticks once. He drops into the seat across from me, movements efficient, no-nonsense, but when he folds them over the table, the sleeves of his tee stretch taut across biceps that belong in a thirst trap, not a trivia bar.
Not subtle. Not accidental. And definitely not helping my ability to think in complete sentences
“Ro,” Jeremy says, dragging out the syllable. “Your brain just short-circuited mid-glance. You want me to get you a napkin for all that drool or...?”
I snap my gaze to him. “I wasn’t drooling.”
“Sweetheart, your pupils dilated so fast I thought you saw Jesus.”
Nolan doesn’t say a word, but hides a flash of a smile behind his cupped hand.
I sneer at him. He adjusts his glasses, eyes locking on mine. That infuriatingly cute dimple peeks out. There’s a flicker of heat, or challenge, possibly both.
“I’m in,” he says, voice rough with amusement. “Wouldn’t miss a chance to watch Rorie Adams choke on her own confidence.”
My smile is all teeth. “Aw, look at you. Finally finding something you’re actually qualified for—trivia and trash talk.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing just enough to make it a dare. “You sure you’re up for another loss against us?”
“Oh, honey.” I sip my drink. “You’llbe the one crying into your craft beer before the second round.”
He grins. Slow. Sexy. Irritating. “We’ll see.”
I roll my eyes.
Jeremy leans in, smirking like he’s just spotted a golden opportunity to stir shit up. “Okay, okay—what’s the point of all this bark without some actual bite?”
Rishi’s eyes light up. “Agreed. Let’s make it interesting.”
I cross my arms, arching a brow. “Define interesting.”
“If the Laurel Group wins…” Jeremy taps his fingers on the table like a game show host building suspense. “Nolan takes a body shot. Off Rorie.”
I nearly aspirate my drink. “Excuse me?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Rishi interjects. “If Big Stream wins, then Rorie takes the shot. Off Nolan.”
I whip my head between them. “Why us? Why not you two?”
Maya sips her drink, serene as ever. “Because they’re not repressing a five-alarm sexual tension fire and pretending they’re just rivals.”
Jeremy points at her. “Exactly. Plus, you need a rebound. A hot, emotionally reckless, probably-regrettable-but-memorable rebound.”
I blink. “Okay, wow. My sex life is officially everyone’s business now?”
Rishi sips his drink, unbothered. “You’re not the only one who needs one. Nolan does too.”
Nolan’s head snaps toward him. “Rishi.”
Rishi shrugs. “What? It’s true. You’ve been brooding in spreadsheets and bourbon, and it’s getting bleak. You need someone to shake that shit loose.”
