I lean in closer to her, wrinkling my nose and whispering, “Is this a soccer event? I thought we were at an art show.”
While I’ve turned my back on Lucca, he’s slowly inching his way around to stand to the side of Fran and me, making sure he faces us.
Fran loops her arm through mine. “Not a Red Tail event. Just a local art show. The artist happens to be a Red Tail’s wife, though.”
“Is this yours?” I say, glancing around again. The little I’ve seen of the work is impressive.
Fran laughs. “Oh, no. Not me. Roman Graves’ wife, Stella. She’s around here somewhere. We all came out to support.”
“That’s so nice,” I say, but I’m feeling Lucca’s eyes on me.
“Did you find Callum?” Fran says to Lucca.
“I haven’t looked for him.” The right corner of Lucca’s mouth rises in a charming, crooked grin. “I thought I’d make sure Maggie didn’t get lonely.”
I swallow. “I’mnotlonely.”
“Well, that’s sweet of you.” Fran reaches out, patting Lucca on the arm like she’s praising a puppy. “I had no idea that Stella would have me on appetizer duty.” She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I have been refilling trays since I got here. But I’m hoping there’s an end in sight and we can walk around the show together later.”
“Oh.” My mouth is suddenly the Sahara Desert. “I can help you with app?—”
“No way. You enjoy the evening. Lucca will keep you company.” Fran leans in, giving me a quick hug before taking off in the direction of the food once more.
Fran and I are acquaintances. I thought tonight was the night we’d become friends. But apparently, tonight is the night she ditches me, leaving me with Saint Lucca.
First Reggie and now Lucca? I am never leaving the house again. At least, not socially.
“Shall we?” Lucca says, smiling that obnoxiously handsome smile of his. I bet his teeth are capped.
“Why do you suddenly want to talk to me? Why so friendly, Cruz?”
He pulls in a breath. “You don’t mean ‘Saint Lucca’?” he says, still smiling.
I don’t laugh, though. Yes, Wyatt gave away my sarcastic nickname for Lucca, but he probably took it seriously, as a compliment. He probably believes himself an actual saint. Ugh.
“You surprised me,” he says. “That’s all. I judged a book by its cover. And I regret it. So, now I’d like to read it.”
“Did you just compare me to a book? To a cover? I’m not something you can fill your time amusing yourself with, Cruz.”
“That isn’t what I meant. I just thought we could get to know each other.” His dark brows pull together. “There’s more to your ability than I realized.”
I grunt, crossing my arms and looking past him at a colorful ceramic.
“It’s just, after multiple unfair calls, I decided you were biased, authoritative, maybe a little power-hungry. Control-seeking?—”
“Whoa. Do you hear yourself? You say you want to talk in one breath while insulting me in the next. And I’m not power-hungry. I am an official. It’s literally my job to enforce the rules of the game.”
Lucca’s eyes go wide. “You do your job well.”
My cheeks warm. “And I’ve never given out an unfair call.” At least, not on purpose. “You just like the rules bent for you. You’re one of thosebooksthat thinks it’s better than all the other books, so the rules should bend for it.”
“But what ifI ambetter than the other books?”
I scoff and shake my head. “I’m not sure why you are suddenly so full of questions, but I don’t see us ever being friends. So, what’s the point in sharing?”
“Please,” he says, a hand on my arm. “Just one chat. I’ll buy you a drink.” His brow lifts, like this should be one tempting offer.
“I don’t drink.”
