“Do you really need us to answer that?” Noah asks. “Really?”
“You’re like an eighteen-year-old with a fake ID for the first time,” Jasper tells him.
“Seriously, you guys suck.” Bode pouts.
“You love us,” Jasper says.
“I don’t know why.”
This is why I love these guys. They’re ridiculous most days, but some of the best guys I know. They’re good guys, even Bode. Well, maybe deep down for Bode, but I’d do anything for any of them.
Even skipping a night in to hang out with them.
God, I really am old.
“Does anyone want to do?—”
“No.” Everyone answers Bode without even hearing what he says.
“You don’t even know what I was going to suggest.”
“Because no one wants to do karaoke with you, Bode,” Noah says. “You’re a mic hog.”
“That’s because none of you want to sing.”
“Because we don’t like karaoke,” Jasper says.
“I just need to get you guys out of your bubbles.” Bodegrins, looking across the table at me. “One time, Cap. I want to hear you sing one time.”
I shake my head. “Never gonna happen.”
“Fine. Then you have to come to another bar.”
“That’s the trade-off?” I ask, finishing off my beer. A warm buzz floats through my veins. “I guess I can go to another bar.”
“Fuck yeah!” This coming from Dax, as he slaps his hand down on the table. “We never get to hang out like this. I love it.”
“Alright, alright. Let’s close out and get going.”
Because if there is one person that is going to keep these guys in line tonight, it’s me. If that means we hit another bar sooner rather than later?
I might be able to head home sooner rather than keep barhopping and get to hang out with Harper for just a few minutes.
I’ll take anything I can get with her.
Chapter Sixteen
HARPER
Idon’t know why I’m so nervous. When Marcus texted me to come over and stay with the girls, I didn’t think twice before saying yes.
It’s not like Marcus and I are together for real.
Stepping out of my car, I study the house in front of me. For a professional hockey player, it’s not what I imagined he would have. The Cape Cod house is modest. The front porch is small, with hand-painted flowerpots holding pink pansies. The sage green shutters are warm and welcoming.
Of course Marcus has my dream home.
Knocking on the door, the sounds of feet running greet me before a younger woman is answering the door. Two identical faces—blue eyes, with smiles that are missing some teeth, and brown hair—are looking up at me.
