“Plus,” the lei wearing vixen beside me struggles not to cringe, “she’s come to a few of the get-togethers that I’ve helped Mari host for the WAGs of the coaching and management staff who crave the consanguinity that the Slayers have that they’re not invited to sincethey’retechnicallynot Slayers because they’re not with players.”
“I didn’t know Coach’s wife did that.”
“AndI didn’t know,” our team owner mockingly begins, “that you were wheeling her sister-in-law.”
“I’m not,” leaves me too quickly. “I mean not yet?” Scratching the back of my neck mindlessly occurs. “It’s not that we haven’t thought about it-”
“Have you thought about the words coming out of your fucking mouth right now?!” Hennington high-pitchedly huffs. “I don’t want –nor need– your strategy for baggingyour coach’s-”
“Oneof my coaches.”
“-sister!” Her hands fall to her hips and firmly clench. “Tell. Me. He. Already. Knows. Groff.” My jaw lowers again, yet nothing comes out, prompting Hot Rocket to redirect her glare to my date. “Tell. Me. He. Already. Knows. Gillian.”
“Uh…” a loud hiccup bounces her entire figure. “Not in um…” Two more make themselves heard. “Those words?”
“Those words oranywords?” growls the woman most likely considering a trade for me right about now.
Instinct pushes me to wind my arm protectively around my Slayer’s waist and declare, “We’ll find the right ones, GM. Promise, aye.”
“And the right time,” croaks Gilly as she warmly leans into my hold.
“There isnevergoing to be a right time,” Hot Rocket informs on a shake of the head. “However, for the sake ofthisteam,thisfamily, I’m only going to say this once.” Sternness overwhelming her expression precedes her stare boring into mine. “You have two options, tendy. Tell him or don’t date her.”
Relief threatens to bear hug me. “You’re not gonna tell him first?”
“That’s not my job,” she swiftly states. “That’syour job,” her chin kicks itself at me, “as one ofhis players.And that’syour job,” the action is replicated at Gilly, “ashis sister.My job,” Hennington stabs herself in the chest with a pointed digit, “is tomake surethis familyhas theleastamount of off ice problems possible for thatWhora The ExplorerRamirez to find and report on.” The lean forward executed is beyond menacing. “Do. Not. Make my job any harder than it already fucking is. Clearskies?”
Chapter 11
Gillian
“Wait, you’re serrie?” Bronny abruptly stops scooping sour cream onto his homemade chicken nachos. “I’m supposed tochangemy toothbrush?!”
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my record print covered scrubs top – that Thayne surprised me with like a peace offering the day after the team calendar nightmare – is attached to an overly enthusiastic, “Yes!”
Bronny tilts his head to the side in a challenging fashion. “No cap?”
“What? No.” Disbelief crinkles my forehead. “You should always put the cap back on toothpaste when you’re not using it.”
“No, he’s askin’ if you’re bein’ honest,” Thayne deciphers between grabbing us plates for dinner. “And yeah, dude. She’s serrie.”
Curiosity has him quirking an eyebrow. “How serrie?”
“Game seven double overtime,” I reply just as he shoves a loaded chip into his mouth.
“What?!” he grumbles around the contents. “No-huh!” Frantic crunching is followed by swift swallowing. “You’re messin’ with me.” One hand is casually flung our way resulting in a tiny tomato landing on the floor near my bare feet. “Next, you’re gonna say I should be brushin’ my teeth twice a day.”
Shock plummets my jaw to the ground. “Ohmygod, you should!”
“Huh,” Bronny grunts and shoves another chip into his mouth. “Really?”
“Go,” instructs Thayne on a small chortle, hand lovingly landing on the small of my back. “Go sit down and stop breakin’ my Gillybean’s heart.”
“Her ‘Achy Breaky Heart’,” I playfully poke in return, brown stare meeting his hazel gaze.
It’s his turn to let his mouth become agape. “You jus’ Billy Ray Cyrus me?”
“Yup.”
