He deadpans at me. “Silas is decent enough. Tristan Vaughn is a fucking prick though.”
“Why?”
“Where should I start?” he bites out. “He’s a cocky prick who thinks a lot of himself.”
I quirk a brow, and Will immediately points at me. “And you can save it, Drew. I don’t need your smart-ass pointing out the obvious.”
Amused, I lift a shoulder and reset my focus back on the laptop.
“For what it’s worth, Paul Tierney wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit him between the eyes.”
I scrunch up my nose, forcing myself to accept the compliment. “Thanks, but it doesn’t matter. I’m over him now anyway.”
“Is there … anyone else?”
Our eyes reconnect for a split second after Will’s question.
I scoff. “I spent my twenty-first birthday working and my Saturday evening getting stood up by this really irritating client I look after. Does my life scream sociable and loved up to you?”
Will stands from his stool and rounds the island, reaching into the center of the counter for my plate. His cologne fills my senses.
“No, Baby, it does not. So, how about you run through the rest of your list while I pour you a glass of wine? And then you can nail the strawberry cheesecake I made especially for you. I’d say that you deserve it.”
11
. . .
Will
June
Word is, you’ll get a hat trick in your debut tomorrow against Colorado.
Me
I’m not even starting, so that’s likely not happening.
Dad
Give it time, and you’ll be the first name on the team sheet.
Mom
I’m sorry I can’t make it tomorrow, honey. A case has gone south at the final minute, but your sister and dad will make up for my absence.
Dad
No one could make up for your absence, Princess.
Me
I just puked in my mouth. Gross.
June
I’m with my brother on this. Totally gross.
Dad
