“Married. He wasmarried! And to make itevenworse, he brought me to the place she worked. Like, come on!” she bursts out, jamming a cork opener into place that I hadn’t noticed her take from the drawer. With a strong pull, she pops it open and reaches back to take her hair out, letting the black waves tumble down her back. “And don’t even get me started on the vape! I still smell like pot, and I drove here with my windows down.”
I try to sniff the air nonchalantly, but she catches me, frowning as her head falls forward.
“You don’t stink.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Where did you meet him?”
She pauses while filling her glass, not stopping until the pale pink liquid hits the rim. “Tinder.”
“Then I think a pothead married man isn’t the worst date you could have had.”
“Finn! That doesn’t help. At all.”
I brace my hands on the kitchen island, leaning forward. “I thought you didn’t use Tinder anymore.”
Not since she met up with a guy who picked her up for their date, only to take her to the police station to get her to help get his friend out of a holding cell. That was months ago now, and I sincerely hope she doesn’t still have her occupation set to lawyer anymore.
“I don’t!” she exclaims before bringing her glass to her mouth and chugging back half of its contents, leaving a glossy red stain on the rim. “You don’t get it because you don’t have to use dating apps to meet women.”
“I’m sorry, did I somehow forget that I’ve become a serial dater in the last five minutes?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Exhaling, I release the countertop and move toward her. She doesn’t retreat, so I deem it safe enough to take the wineglassfrom her and set it down. Then, I place my hands on her arms and rub, warming the cool skin.
“What’s going on, Bree?”
Her eyes dart away as she lies through her teeth. “It’s just time for me to settle down.”
“Nice try. Tell me the truth this time.”
Standing this close to her, Icansmell the weed she must have been completely doused in on her date. It’s not the time to poke at her, though. After two decades of friendship, I can always tell when she’s struggling with something. She’s not the type of person who shows emotion openly, not even with me, unless I pry like I am right now. It’s how she’s always been, but there are still some tells that I’ve made note of.
Reaching for alcohol is one. Closing up and lying when I push for an answer is another.
“It’s the demon spawn,” she finally blurts out.
“Spencer?”
“Do you know another demon spawn?”
“Mm, debatable,” I mutter, thinking back to Asher’s attitude on the field today.
I’d hoped it would have gotten better once everyone started breaking a sweat, but if anything, it got worse. Today was probably the roughest day the team has had with him.
“Asher is a saint compared to Spencer,” she says, reading my mind. “At least Asher doesn’t try to sabotage your job because he’s jealous.”
After giving her arms one last rub, I drop my hands and lean a hip against the island. “That’s fair. So, he’s still not letting it go?”
“No. If anything, he gets angrier by the day. And now, apparently, he’s taken to blackmail in order to get his way.”
“He’s threatening you?” I ask, straightening as my chest grows hot.
“In a sense. Supposedly, one of the paralegals was at the restaurant the other night when I bailed on my date to help a client. He wasn’t impressed and started spouting off about me at the bar.”
I relax slightly, but not enough, still buzzing with protectiveness. “And I’m assuming she told Spencer this?”
