I chuckle. “Think you can?”
She’s handed a glass of champagne. “Will you tell me who?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather you guess. Confirm it for me.”
“This is my favorite game to play,” she says. “Kissing?”
“Absolutely,” I tell her as we set the boundaries for the night.
“What level of flirting?”
I’m handed my glass. “Believable. Not annoying. Lots of eye-fucking.”
Mila steps forward and fixes my tie the way a girlfriend would. She has legs that go on forever and a face that launched a thousand ad campaigns before she started working for Billie Calloway. We’re close, almost too close, but she doesn’t make a move. She’s testing the waters as I wrap my arm around her.
“Only a warm-up,” she says.
“I know how it works,” I tell her as we move through the crowd. “Had lots of practice during last year’s wedding season.”
Heads turn as we pass, but she does that in every room she walks into.
We enter the ballroom, and her red dress catches the light.
I search for Kendall without meaning to. My teammates are scattered at various tables, along with coaches, owners, and league executives. There are many people here that I don’t recognize.
One thing is certain: Kendall isn’t here yet.
We find our table near the front, reserved for players giving speeches tonight. Callan is already seated with his date, and Hunter arrives a few minutes later with a blonde who laughs too loudly at everything he says.Puck bunny.
“Big night,” Callan says, nodding toward the stage. “You ready for your speech?”
“Always,” I say, taking a sip of water, knowing I need something much stronger to get me through the night.
I try to keep my focus on Coach Hart and how he gave me the chance of a lifetime. Standing up there and saying a few words about what he means to this team should be easy.
The lights flicker, signaling that dinner service is about to begin. I set my glass down, and when I glance back up to say something to Mila, I see her enter the room.
Kendall’s wearing a black dress that makes my mouth go dry. It’s simple, elegant, hugging every curve I’ve memorized with my hands. Her hair is swept up, exposing the neck I’ve bitten so many times and the collarbone I’ve marked. But that’s not what makes my stomach drop; it’s the man standing tall beside her with his hand on the small of her back.
Jameson.
My brother looks good, relaxed in a way I never am. His smile is easy as he leans down to whisper something in Kendall’s ear. She laughs at whatever he said, that real one, and it makes something really fucking ugly twist in my gut.
Jameson turns, and when he spots me, his grin widens. He’s the twin who makes friends everywhere he goes while he calculates exactly how to get what he wants. I’ve watched him dothis my entire life. I watched him take things that should have been mine with that same smile, acting like it was all luck and good timing, but I know better. He’s overly competitive, and he will do anything to win, even if he’s the only one playing.
I brought a woman she clearly recognizes, based on the expression on her face, and she brought my twin brother.
We’re both playing the jealousy game, but Kendall went nuclear with this decision. There’s petty, and then there’s showing up on the arm of the man who shares my face, who she fucked before, who she almost married.
I lost this one. I’ll give her that because she went next fucking level.
“Ahh,” Mila says, looking at Jameson and Kendall, tossing back her champagne and grabbing another one from the staff. “Noted.”
She shakes her head. “What have you gotten yourself into, Patty?”
I sigh. “Right?”
They make their way toward our table, and my jaw tightens with their every step. Jameson’s hand continues to lightly touch her, guiding her through the crowd as if she belongs to him. Not anymore.
