I slide him a look.
He stares right back at me and slurps again, then chokes on it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up,” Tatum suddenly says.
He’s a rookie. Same as me, he grew up traveling the world. Father was a diplomat. Learned rugby in South Africa. And he’s pointing at Goldie.
“You’rethatGoldie. Coach Goldie.You can do itGoldie.”
She inclines her head with a smile. “Guilty.”
“And you’re related toSilas?”
“We’re pretty sure at least one of us was adopted. Probably me, since I remember when he was born.”
“And you’re dating the old guy?”
“Theveteran,” I correct.
“It’s a first date,” Goldie says. “A second is up to him.”
She beams at me, andfuck me.
I’ve fallen into a cave full of cupcakes and rugby balls except with the sun shining and sand at my feet and someone on the way with a strawberry daiquiri. My favorite things.
It’s a fake beam.
Zero doubt it’s a fake beam. She’s clearly chuffed with herself for how well this is going for her own intentions.
All of this warm squishy bullshit in my chest is an optical illusion. Achesticleillusion.
“You got some…” I clear my throat.
Brush a drop of wine off her upper lip with my thumb.
Don’t smile back.
Can’t.
Not when my heart is hammering and my dick is straining my jeans and she’s blinking at me, her pupils dilating as her smile drops away too.
This isnotpart of the plan.
I don’t do this rubbish.
“Aww, they’re so cute,” Silas’s date says.
“Thank you,” Goldie says softly.
Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.
I don’t know if she’s pretending or not.
But I know I’m sending that loud beeping oven timer on an all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean for having such fucking awesome timing to go off exactly now.
Goldie whips her head toward the sound, her nostrils quivering. “Oooh, is the cheese dip done?”
I grab my wine with a shaky hand and take a gulp.
