And the fact she rotates her hand to fold her fingers with mine sets the rhythm.
Maybe taking her to be around the boys isn’t thesmartestsave I could make, but I don’t think it’s the dumbest.
Chapter 9
Thayne
Post a semi awkward truck ride downtown – that’s only made slightly less uncomfortable thanks to a summer song mix of Rose Royce, Kool & the Gang, and Kenny Chesney – we valet, check in, and navigate our way past security to the expansive, outdoor, secluded pool section we’re using for photos.
“Groffeeeeeee,” calls out Tanner “Snowman” Frosky during his stroll closer, tan arm draped lovingly around the shoulder of his honey, brown sugar skinned fiancée, Arden Hoss, “the best Tendy in our hemisphere.”
His Doctenn accent makes that sound like a fact rather than an opinion.
I like that.
We’re talkin’ from one bud to another, not the way broadskies literally climb fences to touch his stick.
I don’t swipe that way.
And honestly don’t care if any of my teammates do.
And you know what?
I think at least one does.
But it ain’t my job to let the world know that.
He will when he’s ready.
Ifhe ever is.
We may be welcomin’ and acceptin’ out here in Dalvegan, but the sport as a whole has a shit ton of work to do.
“Geographical or cultural?” curiously inquires the female whose fingers are still folded with mine.
“He can’t spell either of us those,” Hoss teasingly cringes, “let alone define them.”
“I am not nearly as unintelligent asDucky: Warrior Princess,” his blond head casually tips in our old media coordinator’s direction, “would like you to believe.”
“My bikini top is not that gold, Hamster Boy.”
“You look like you raided her wardrobe on set between takes.”
Hoss’s jaw drops in outrage.
“However, I must admit your tits look infinitely better than hers did.”
“Gram worthy all day,” thoughtlessly compliments my baby brother on a slow head nod.
“Bronskie!” Snowman warmly greets prior to grabbing a fist full of his shirt. “Cool down.” One effortless tug sends him flying over the luxurious pool’s edge into the water, making a very large, attention-grabbing splash. “And keep your eyes off my Slayer, Pee-Wee.”
Laughter immediately escapes me along with him yet his fiancée gripes, “What if his cell was in his pocket, genius?”
“Wasn’t,” I casually reassure. “Had him leave it at homeskies.”
“A teen without his phone?” playfully ponders Frosky’s other half. “Is he gonna die?”
All of a sudden, Bronny pops his frame back up and wildly shakes his head, “Woooooo!”
