“Cutest jerk too,” Maddie muttered.
Clover ignored the comment. She scanned for Dustin, ready to smash one of these meals in his face. He was on the dance floor with two women doing their best to leave their DNA on his suit. Of course—she wouldn’t expect anything less from a guy who thought the world revolved around him. “Nope. Just a jerk.”
Maddie rubbed her palms together over the meals and licked her lips. “Where do you want to start? You can have first pick.”
“I’d like to start by kicking him in his tight behind.”
Her eyes lit up. “Ha! You noticed his backside.”
“Well, yeah, he was walking my favorite direction for guys like him—away.”
Another round of waiters appeared, carrying trays loaded with plates. They stared at Clover as if she could magically make the table bigger.
Maddie snorted a laugh. “Come on. Let’s spend his money.” She selected a shrimp, dipped it in the cocktail sauce, and popped the whole thing in her mouth.
“You’re right.” Maddie picked up a plate of stuffed mushrooms and another with a variety of veggies and hummus and walked to the nearest table. “You guys having fun tonight?”
The trio of buttoned-up corporate types grinned. “We are now that you’re here,” said the one in the middle.
Clover smiled tightly—unsure if he expected her to flirt back or simply absorb the comment. Flirting wasn’t an option because her brain was still working out something she could have said to Dustin. Why couldn’t she come up with anything to zing him? She shifted her weight, wishing Dustin had kept his credit card to himself so she wouldn’t have to make sure this food didn’t go into the trash.
“Whatcha got there?” asked the one on the end. He wore a plaid shirt and a plain tie—opposite of the other two guys at the table, who wore plain shirts and plaid ties.
She slid the plates onto the table. “Free food.”
“Thanks,” they said almost in unison.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have more deliveries to make.” The first server had placed his load in the spots she’d cleared.
She tapped the edges of the plates to check for heat before picking them up. There was a rowdy group taking up two couches. She flagged the next waiter in line to follow her. The three guys winked as she walked by their table, and she smiled shyly in return.
Maddie hoarded the shrimp platter and the chocolate sampler, but Clover was able to distribute the rest. They ended up with quite the crowd around their table, and Clover found herself relaxing as the food had made her instant friends. She took full credit, refusing to let Dustin get any more enjoyment out of his attempt to humiliate her.
It wasn’t until she was drowsing in the passenger seat on the ride home that her brain finally shook the befuddlement caused by Dustin Colt, and she had the perfect comeback.
Next time,she promised herself.I’ll get him next time.
Chapter Four
Dustin ducked into the team meeting right before the doors closed. He could feel Coach Wolfe’s eyes on him and worked to keep his poker face. A roster’s worth of guys had commented about Dustin’s new look. Every. Guy. He had been razzed to within an inch of his life in the parking lot by Ricky and Joe. Once inside, his bare chin became the hot topic. A man had to have thick skin to play this game.
He’d taken it all in stride—even the jokes about being a mama’s boy and a whipped pup in love with a new woman. While a certain woman may have been the initial motivation, she wasn’t the reason. Wanting to impress Coach Wolfe, who was clean shaven, was the real reason he’d made a drastic improvement. With Wolfe’s eyes boring into his head, he kept his face passive. He couldn’t let the coach know that he’d gotten inside his head.
He searched for a seat, and had a whole team staring at him like he was an alien in their midst. Their teasing was getting on his nerves. They had more important things to do than discuss his face. “What?”
“Moonlighting much?” asked Juan Castillo, right fielder.
Dustin froze, wondering if he had Sheetrock dust on his black T-shirt. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve got Extreme Makeover, MLB edition written all over your face.”
The guys chuckled or threw pens and gum wrappers at Juan for his lame joke.
Dustin relaxed. “They wanted you, but I told them there was no pretty under your mane.” He jerked his chin toward Juan.
Juan ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, pausing to hold the pose he’d done for an underwear commercial. “That’s not what the ladies tell me.”
A.J. Peck smacked the back of Juan’s head amidst groans from the other players. Dustin took a seat near the back by Brayden. They exchanged “Sups?” and chin jerks. Brayden’s girlfriend, Tilly, had met them at the club the other night. She admitted that clubs weren’t her scene, so they ended up getting last-minute tickets to Cirque du Soleil’s Michael Jackson performance. Tilly was big into rock climbing, working as a guide in Snow Canyon and other areas in Utah, so she had a whole different outlook on the trapeze and how much time and control it took to do the stunts.
