I did not makeit out of the locker room unscathed. Lucca spotted my new Fran temporary tattoo—at least it’s supposed to be temporary—and told no less than four guys to check it out.
I barely made it out alive.
Between the locker room and a camera guy catching my kiss with Fran for my mother to see, I am a ball of nerves. And yet, I’m not nearly as nervous as Fran.
Apparently, she thought she might be the only woman at this team dinner. However, she still agreed to come with me. What a trooper.
She blows out a shaky breath, a sense of relief washing over her face as she peers about the room and sees a handful of women here. Garrett and Devon are with their wives. Devon’s daughter is even here. A few girlfriends sprinkle throughout the space as well, along with Coach’s wife and Will Baxter’s family.
She is not the only female in the room.
“How often do you guys do this?” Fran says, and I’m notimmune to the fact that her arm brushes mine, that she might be stuck to me like glue.
I shrug and, like a gentleman, keep my arm pressed to hers. If that’s what she needs, that’s where I’ll stay. “Every couple of months. Sometimes more.”
“Did Simone come to these?”
I cough, but manage to say in a cool, calm voice, “She did.”
Fran hisses in her next breath. “So, will there be people here who dislike me? Like I’m replacing someone they called a friend.”
I huff out the smallest of laughs. “You know, Fran. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Simone didn’t love my team—and they didn’t love her back. “Zev wasn’t the only one to call her toxic.”
As if on cue, Lucca Cruz, standing clear across the banquet room of this restaurant, throws his hands into the air and bellows, “Franny!”
She swallows and sends Lucca a small wave. “So, no one?—”
“No one ever cared if Simone came, Fran. My team likes you. You’re in good company. Don’t stress.”
“I’m not stressing. I’m just a friend. No one needs to approve of me. So why would I be stressing? I’m just the girl who occasionally kisses a guy, so he won’t play like trash?—”
“Hey—”
Fran swallows. “Sorry. Um?—”
“How about to give him a little luck?”
Her shoulders fall, and she heaves out a breath. “Yep. That’s it. I knew that.”
Lucca strides over, a cocky smile on his face, one directedat Fran—one I’d like to slap off. But it was a good win for us today. I’m smiling too.
“Hey, Franny,” Lucca says. “You got a lucky kiss for me too?” He taps his clean-shaven cheek.
Fran’s brows lower in question, and a hum escapes her as if she may be considering it.
“Nope,” I say, reaching for her wrist and pulling her half a foot behind me. “She isn’t the team kissing booth, Cruz. She’s my guest, and you’ll behave.”
Lucca laughs, but he holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. You aren’t sharing. That’s fine.” He peers past me, winks at Fran, and adjusts the collar of his Red Tails polo. “Good to see you, Franny.”
I shake my head and watch him walk away. He can torment someone else’s guest tonight, but not Fran. “He’s like a giant child,” I tell her.
“A child with smoking abs and a swoony accent. Where’s he from again?”
“Brazil,” I say, not loving the way she saidsmoking. “I think his accent is fake. He’s lived in the States most of his life.”
Fran snickers beside me. “Why would he fake his accent?”
“Who knows? Lucca’s crazy like that.” I don’t actually believe that—but it felt like the right thing to say at the moment.
