Page 189 of Ruthless Court

“He keeps looking over here.”

“There are several people in this row.”

Her friend leans across her.

“Who invited you?”

I pull another Twizzler from the bag.

“Haverhill.”

The name drops into the conversation like a glass hitting tile.

Three women look over.

The blonde laughs, but it comes out wrong.

“Kane?”

“That’s usually what people mean by Haverhill.”

“How do you know him?”

“Class.”

She waits for more.

I don’t supply it.

“Like tutoring?”

Her friend hides a smile behind her cup.

I stare at the court.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

I turn.

“Sorry. I didn’t get the memo that this section required a photo shoot, an interview, and a WAG application.”

The brunette looks away first.

The blonde’s mouth thins.

“No one said that.”

“No one had to.”

The pep band explodes behind the basket, saving me from whatever she planned to say next.

On the court, Kane takes a hard hit while driving left.

No whistle.

He lands, looks toward the official, and I feel the shift before he gets the ball back.