Kane’s eyebrows rise.
I shove the ridiculous foam tree head into his chest.
“Here,” I mutter. “Guess this was the missing ingredient.”
He catches it automatically.
“Whoa,” he says. “Easy, man.”
The music fades behind the rush in my ears.
“I thought we agreed,” he says carefully, “best man wins.”
“Yeah,” I say.
My jaw tightens.
“Doesn’t mean I have to love the idea of you trying to touch my girl.”
Kane goes very still.
“Your girl?” he repeats.
A beat passes.
Then he huffs out a short laugh.
“Our girl, you mean.”
A couple guys nearby glance over.
The tension isn’t subtle anymore.
Someone nudges someone else.
The word spreads quick when athletes start posturing.
I notice the shift immediately.
The attention.
The phones.
Not again.
I run a hand through my hair and take a step back.
“Nope,” I mutter.
Kane watches me carefully.
“I’m out.”
I scan the yard until I find Stella again.
She’s standing near the fire with her teammates.
I raise my voice slightly.
