The team cheers, beers thrust in the air.
“And let’s fucking clinch that first-half spot!” The bar erupts in roars, from us, from the local patrons supporting us. That energy makes you feel like you can do anything.
I glance at Shane. He’s watching me, blue eyes shining with pure happiness, beer raised. I hold out my beer, and his gaze flicks from it back to mine. He taps my tanker with his, and we drink, eyes locked on each other.
Damn it, I want to touch him so bad. In any way. Idiscreetly shift my chair over and—yes—my thigh presses against his. Something so small shouldn’t set my pulse racing, but it does. It’s like I needed my recharge of Shane, and now with that smallest of touches, a current of him surges through me, filling my stores until the next one.
Fists pound on the table, and we jump. A chant of “Do it! Do it! Do it!” starts up, and I glance around. All my teammates are focused on Araujo and Thompson. The two are staring each other down like they think the other one is clearly going to lose whatever it is they’re about to do.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Thompson says. “You have zero game.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a pretty face. You really think any of the women here will give your ugly mug their number?”
“Ten minutes,” Olander yells above the jeers and laughs. “You both have ten minutes. Whoever shows back up here with more numbers wins.”
I lean over to Nebiolo, my gaze catching on the woven bracelet around his wrist. A very Shane-coded bracelet. “What are they winning?”
“The loser has to do the other’s laundry for a week.Including folding,” he says.
I recoil. That’s fucking awful.
Thompson and Araujo push back from the table, faces set in determination, and disappear toward the bar.
“Another round?” Winters asks, lifting an empty pitcher. My stare snags on his wrist. Another bracelet. A chorus of yeses rings through the group.
“So now that I’m a new bestie, when do I get my bracelet? That’s what those are, aren’t they?” I ask, nodding toward Winters’s wrist. “If I remember correctly, you thought friendship bracelets were a great idea.”
Shane perks up. “You’d wear one, yeah?” He grabsWinters’s wrist, and Winters almost tosses the empty pitcher across the table.
“Easy, Michaels. Fucking hell.”
Shane sends an apologetic grin his friend's way and pulls Winters’s wrist closer. “This is a braided stitch.” He thrusts Winters’s wrist away. “You can go now.”
“Thanks,” Winters says with a laugh.
Shane leans over me, his pec brushing against my chest and tweaking my nipple ring. A zing of lust streaks straight to my groin, and I steel myself against it. Damnit. I’m so hard up for this guy.
He grabs Paulie’s arm and tugs it our way. “And this is an arrowhead stitch.”
Nebiolo spins it around. “He did shades of green for me because green’s my favorite color.”
I know I should find this all extremely ridiculous and juvenile—what group of grown men wear friendship bracelets, ones that have been specifically designed just for them? But fuck if I don’t want one of my own.
Shane’s smile hooks up. “You really want one?”
After that hopeful tone, there’s no way in hell I’d ever say no. “Yeah, Surfer Boy. Bracelet me up.”
He wiggles his wrist in front of us. “I did a couple for funsies too.” He spins one that’s white and blue, where the blue is peaked over like waves. “It’s my Florida boy tribute. Ocean waves. And then this one is because watermelon’s refreshing as fuck in the Florida heat.” He spins one with pink triangles bordered in green. Somehow he managed to get black dots in each of the slices. I have to say, I’m impressed.
I reach for one with faded blue beads and softly run my fingers over it. “What’s this one for? It looks worn.”
His smile turns soft, and he wrinkles his nose as heslowly spins one of the beads, gaze locked on it. “First one I ever made with my mom. Well, the beads are original, anyway. Obviously, the yarn didn’t last. I’ve threaded those beads into countless bracelets over the years.”
“You make these with your mom?”
His stare flicks to mine beneath his lashes. “Yeah. It was our thing. During the little time we had to spend together.”
The organ in my chest goes butter soft. How am I supposed to resist this man? He’s sunshine in human form, warmth and comfort and happiness. I don’t think I realized how much of that I lacked in my life until he showed up. How much I need it. I was content going through the motions in my gloom-covered routine. One foot in front of the other as I chased the big leagues. The journey there didn’t matter. I didn’t need to enjoy it. I just wanted to hurry up and get to my destination.
