“No, you introduced us because you wanted me to approve of your girlfriend,” she teases, making him laugh.
“Reagan, we both know I don’t need anyone’s approval for anything.”
“Touché, kid, touché. Now tell me, how did you two meet?” she asks.
I’m finishing up telling Reagan the abbreviated version of how Lyla and I met when the air shifts. I look over her shoulder and have to bite back a smile when I see him. Kyle stands at the counter, shooting daggers at us.
Knowing a hothead like him, he won’t be able to help himself, and he will head this way.
I brush my thumb over Lyla’s arm, and she leans into me more, which only further pisses him off.
“Wyatt, are you listening?” Reagan teases just as Kyle starts to walk this way.
“Of course I was. You were just trying to convince us that we should go to Spain with you in the off-season. Spend a week with Stone’s family,” I tell her.
“So what do you think?” Reagan asks with hope in her eyes.
“I-I don’t know. I don’t have a passport, and I have my dad…” Lyla trails off right when Kyle makes it to us.
“Lyla, are you seriously sitting here with him?” Kyle spews. “I thought you would have gotten over your little fit you are having by now.”
I watch as Reagan goes tense, her head slowly turning toward him. I see the moment she realizes who’s just interrupted our lunch.
“Kyle, not now. Can’t you see I’m busy?” Lyla mutters as her cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
“I don’t care if you’re busy. You’re going to stop hanging out with this degenerate right fucking now. You know you’re mine, and by hanging out with him, you’re making me look bad. You need to knock it off. I have an image to protect, and that means my future wife shouldn’t be sleeping around.”
“And if she doesn’t?” I ask, mainly because I want his attention off of her and second, because I’m nosy as fuck.
Kyle’s jaw clenches so tight I’m surprised he doesn’t break a molar, and his hands flex at his sides.
“I’ll have to force her to choose, and for the record, she will choose me, Scott. We have history, and that trumps everything,” he grits out. “Besides, I am going to be drafted by the end of the season.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask.
Reagan hums as she nods her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair. “History is important, especially when the history involves how someone treated you. I hate to be the one to tell you this, kid, but Lyla’s history with you isn’t going to work in your favor.”
Kyle looks over at my cousin, eyes narrowed. “And who are you to jump into our business? You don’t know us. You don’t know what we’ve been through.”
Reagan stands and holds out her hand and smiles, looking all innocent and shit, but to those of us who know her, we know she’s about to go in for the kill.
“I’m Reagan Stone.”
Kyle’s face goes white. So white I’m pretty sure a piece of printer paper has more color than he does.
“R-Reagan Stone. You work for Seattle’s recruiting,” Kyle stutters.
“Aw, you’ve heard of me,” she says sweetly as she sits back down.
“You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. You’re supposed to watch my game,” he says, his panic growing by the second.
“I came early to see my cousin. Family’s important, you know? Unfortunately, I won’t be attending the game tomorrow as planned,” Reagan says, waving her hand through the air.
Kyle makes a sound in the back of his throat.
“Do you need a drink, buddy?” I ask, pushing my water glass toward him.
Kyle doesn’t even look my way, though.
