When his eyes meet mine, I suck in a breath. The amber I know is gone.
What looks back at me is burning gold.
Chapter Twenty
Grayson
The water hits the back of my neck hot enough to scald a human, and I rest my forehead against the tile. My ears are still ringing from the buzzer with the crowd noise running underneath it, and all I can think of is how sweet Miranda tasted.
My wolf is purring under my skin, smug as a cat on a windowsill.
The way she pulled me back in for a second kiss, my blood is still stirring. That woman really knows how to drive me crazy.
She’s still punishing me for whatever happened the night we slept together, and it’s kind of cute. I’ve wracked my brain, but I can’t remember anything. And that really pisses her off. Not that I mind. My wolf enjoys it when she bosses us around, her sulky temper tantrums. She’s so endearing when she’s trying to let me know she’s in a bad mood.
I normally hate anyone telling me what to do. But when it comes to Miranda, I’m beginning to learn I’m a complete sucker for her.
Smiling to myself, I turn off the shower and step into the locker room, toweling off. Brody is at the next stall, tape between his teeth as he wraps his thumb.
“Miranduh.”
“What about her?”
He pulls the tape free. “Miranda seemed a little off out there. Before, I mean.”
I stop with my hand halfway to my hanging shirt. “Off how?”
“She was fine until she saw Vanessa. After that, she got quiet, kept fussing with her clothes and hair.”
I don’t put the shirt on, confused. “Why?”
Brody stares at me. “I keep forgetting you haven’t had that many women in your life. She was underdressed compared to Vanessa. What do you think she was feeling? Man, you’re dumb.”
He wanders off, shaking his head, and Samuel slides onto the bench, one towel around his neck and another around his waist. Samuel is one of the few people who knows about the arrangement. His voice is low. “You are an idiot, though.”
“What did I do?” I scowl at him.
“You brought her to the first public game where she was going to be photographed and you didn’t let her dress up? Didn’t you think she was going to run into Vanessa? Vanessa always dresses like she’s about to go to some charity gala, and your girl was in comfortable wear.”
“I didn’t tell her to wear that,” I mutter. “And there was nothing wrong with her clothes. She looked gorgeous.”
“Yeah.” Samuel rolls his eyes. “That’s the problem.”
The look he gives me is the one he reserves for plays where I’ve missed the obvious assist.
“When was the last time you took your fiancée shopping, Wolfe?”
I open my mouth and then close it again. “Why would I take her shopping?”
Samuel groans like I’ve personally wounded him. Brody is wheezing, and Eric is openly listening from where he’s lacing his shoes by the door.
“Why,” Samuel repeats, “would you take the woman you’re engaged to shopping when every camera in the building has been trained on her for weeks?”
“Vanessa hated when I came along. She always said shopping was a woman’s time,” I protest.
“Vanessa was a sociopath.” Samuel says it like he’s noting the weather.
Brody chokes on his own spit.
