It’s impossible to keep from laughing when Jett reaches over from his spot beside him and swats Wes upside the head. Finn’s shoulders shake with silent laughter beneath my palms.
Wes sobers slightly when he hears my laugh. “You’re a terror. That’s absolutely not what I was thinking.”
“Yeah, well, you deserved that. Now, we can move on.” Pointing at Jet, I tighten my gaze slightly. “Your cousin is horrifying, by the way. Next time you’re at a family holiday with him, ask about his fascination with boudoir photos.”
“Finn gave me the rundown there. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know he’d gotten so creepy.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. But you’re all banned from setting me up on any more dates. Your credentials are shit.”
“You got it,” Jett says, an apology heavy in the words.
“Do you want to play?” Finn asks me.
I laugh and release his shoulder so that I can sit on the thigh he stretches out for me. “And ruin the night so early? No, I’ll join in after dinner so I don’t have to listen to all of you mope.”
Wes smirks at the taunt. “If I remember correctly, I was the winner last month, and you still owe me three hundred bucks.”
“Only because you cheated! Asher helped you win because he wanted the game to be done.” I take another look around the table, noticing that the grump isn’t here tonight. “Speaking of, did anybody invite him?”
Beck, the dark-haired, bright-eyed playboy whom I frustratingly have a bit of a soft spot for, clears his throat and sets his beer down on the table. “We did. He didn’t want to come.”
When Finn was first signed by the Havoc, only Wes had been a pre-existing member of the organization. The two of them hit it off quickly, and when he introduced me to him, we clicked just as fast. Jett signed as a free agent a few years later, and then Beck and Kellan joined.
The fans were welcoming to just about every new team member, but when it came to Beck, his reputation preceded him a bit. If you don’t know him personally, he absolutely deserves the rep. His attitude comes off as abrasive and overly confident in the media, and he’s never been interested in changing theway he’s perceived. If it weren’t for the night I found him drunk off his ass outside of a bar two years ago and listened as he proceeded to bare his entire soul to me, exposing the guy that he hides with women and nasty headlines, I’d probably have written him off, too.
But no. Ever since that night, I’ve felt this annoying sympathy for the guy who wouldn’t know the definition of commitment if it bit him in the ass. At least outside of the Havoc. I’m pretty confident that he’ll be there until the end, similar to the rest of these guys.
I frown at him now. “And you just let him skip?”
“Should we have hog-tied him and thrown him in the trunk?” Kellan asks.
“No, smartass. I just mean he’s clearly feeling out of place. Shouldn’t that be more reason to push?”
Finn curls an arm around my back and grips my thigh long enough to shift me higher onto his. His touch is gentle and familiar. Maybe too much so from the look Wes shoots him from across the table. If he meant to be sneaky about it, he crashed and burned, because the wiggly brows are incredibly obvious.
This is how it’s always been between us. When you’ve grown up around someone, it’s impossible not to be as comfortable with them as humanly possible. It’s platonic. Or, at least, it was easier to convince myself of that a few years ago when I didn’t feel goosebumps pop up all over my arms when he’d touch my hand or find myself swallowing when his palm found my knee.
As much as I want to blame Spencer alone for my urgent need to find a boyfriend, there’s also a part of me that knows it’ll probably also help put an end to these newfound reactions.
With a quick flick of his middle finger, Finn has Wes chuckling and letting it go. When he speaks, it’s a low rumble that presses hot against the side of my neck.
“Asher isn’t the type of guy you can push into doing what you want. If you push him, he’ll simply turn and walk away.”
“He’s got a point. I’ve tried, but he’s pretty adamant about keeping himself separated from us outside of games,” Jett chimes in.
Wes cracks the top of a new beer and chucks the cap into the centre of the table. “If you want to try with him, go ahead. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“Gee, don’t sound so confident,” I mutter.
Finn shifts beneath me and reaches for his can of Dr Pepper. “It’s not you I don’t have confidence in. Asher’s just going through some shit.”
“And he’s not interested in opening up to the lot of us,” Beck says.
I reach forward and start collecting the cards they’ve tossed into a pile on the table, letting the topic go. The guys jump at the opportunity to change the subject, and I focus on shuffling the cards. Once I’ve finished, I deal the next hand.
“Sara’s been asking about coming to watch, so I got a row behind the dugout,” Jett says as I focus on the conversation.
Beck quirks a bushy brow and bends forward, digging his elbows into the table. “You bought an entire row for your daughter?”
