“Bet?”
He chuckles as he pulls out of the car park. “Surprised you haven’t heard about it yet. Pretty sure the team’s got bets on the bet.”
My teammates would have to talk to me for me to know what their conversations entail. “Explain,” I say, too curious not to.
“Four of us have agreed to avoid dating for the season, and we’ve been putting money behind it to make sure we follow through. The last single man standing gets the pot.”
Frowning, I look out the window to see where he’s taking us—back toward my flat, thankfully—before turning to him again. “Why would you do that?”
Moxie shrugs. “We all have different reasons. Bean and Tink want to focus on the game. French Roast is doing it to support Bean.”
“And you?”
His jaw tightens. “Like I said, we all have our reasons.”
“So you won’t date your client, even though she clearly has a thing for you?”
He shakes his head. “No, and she doesn’t.”
“No one brings a cat to their pet doctor that many times in a month if they don’t have an ulterior motive,” I point out. “Particularly a beautiful woman who should be spending her Friday nights out having a crack.”
Moxie glances at me, amusement in his expression. “Do youtryto sound extra Australian, or is that just how you talk all the time? And you think Savannah’s beautiful?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring his jab and focusing on his second question. “Don’t claim you don’t see what I see.”
“Sure, she’s attractive, but she’s not my type.”
“Because of the bet?” What sort of idiot makes a bet like that anyway?
“Because she’s not…” He stops himself and shakes his head. “Not my type,” he repeats. “But apparently she’s yours.”
I scoff. “Nah. I have no use for an American woman.”
“Says the American.”
“Half.” Eyeing him sideways, I hold back a glare. Yes, I’m technically American, but I’ll always claim Australia as my true home. Just like my adoptive parents did soon after we moved there. And who knows where my real heritage lies? According to the DNA test I took a few weeks ago, I come from all over,which is part of the reason my parents convinced me to come to California in the first place.
If I can find one of my birth parents, I might get a better idea of where I actually fit in the world. Then Mum and Dad can stop worrying about me and focus on living what’s left of their lives. The less they stress about me, the better.
“Maybe I should join the bet too,” I mutter a few minutes later as Moxie pulls into my complex. “Might as well make some extra bucks while I’m here, and it’ll give me another way to be better than Bean.” I open the door and slip out of the car.
“Logan.”
With a groan, I lean back down and look him in the eyes as I say, “Joking. I promised I’ll behave.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Calling him slower than your nana is behaving?”
“He’s falling short of his potential, and you know it,” I argue with a roll of my eyes. “I’m trying to give him the push he needs.”
“There are nicer ways to do that, you know.”
If I had to guess, Moxie and the coaches have been using those “nicer” methods since the day Bean joined the team. I’ve seen footage of Bean’s game in the past, and he can play better than he has been these last few weeks. The season hasn’t started yet, but I intend to help turn this team into a winning one while I’m here. The Thunder needs the confident Bean of the last couple of seasons, not the self-conscious bloke he is now.
“Nice isn’t working, Mox,” I say, lifting my eyebrows and daring him to contradict me. “Until he pulls his head out of hisbackside, I’m going to push, and you’re going to live with that because it’ll make him better.”
Exhaling a soft laugh, Moxie shakes his head at me. “Yeah, I’ll admit he’s not playing his best, but you’re not going to do yourself any favors if you keep being so hardheaded. It’s okay to make friends, Logan.”
“Don’t need them.” I shut the door and head to my flat, ignoring a twist in my stomach. I meant it. I don’t need friends. When I’m only here temporarily, I don’t need my teammates to like me as long as they play a good game.
