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CHAPTER14
Calista moved beside her cousin, stiff and uncomfortable.
Ronan wanted to caution her about being suckered in by others, but he couldn’t help wanting to know what was about to happen.
Dahlia held white bootie shorts and a cut off jersey against Calista’s body. Glittery white letters spelled ‘SNOWERS’ across Calista’s chest and the jersey’s hem ended just under her boobs.
Yes. That one. Ronan bit down on his bottom lip. Dahlia was right. Against Calista’s curves, mere fabric took on new life.
Kiernan whistled and gave a thumbs up. “That works for me.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that,” Liam agreed.
The urge to fight them rose inside Ronan. He took a drink instead. Drinks had saved many a friendship.
Saxon nodded with big eyes.
Ronan’s fingers curled into a fist. He wanted to punch him too. None of them should be looking at her with anything other than professional distance.
Calista slipped back to the table and sipped her Scotch without meeting their gazes.
Dahlia mushed her lips left and then right, undecided.
“Let’s let the bar choose,” Kiernan suggested. “Have the dancers wear those next time we go.”
“Oh, yeah.” Liam agreed.
Dahlia looked upward and nodded thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea.”
“It’s not?” Kiernan asked, even though the idea had been his.
Dahlia nodded. “We’ll have all the fans wear costumes they create. That will generate enthusiasm, investment, and increase our social media traffic. The winning designer will get season tickets.” She held up the mini jersey again. “This will be our backup outfit. Calista will wear it.”
“No, she won’t.” Calista’s voice was smooth and pleasant even with the refusal.
Dahlia shrugged. “Fine, I’ll ask one of the dancers to volunteer.” She smiled. “I like the idea of a vote instead of owners deciding.”
“Who is the owner, exactly? Applebaum or Amvehl?” Rookie got daring on second-glass bravery.
That was the question of the hour.
Kiernan moved around the table, refilling all the glasses until the Scotch bottle was near empty. “What’s in a name?” He had shiny teal eyes and a flushed face at this point, and he’d reached Calista.
Calista covered the top of her glass with her hand, so he skipped her. Calista poked her finger in the cut grooves of the glass.
Ronan gave up trying not to look at her.
Calista lowered her chin to the tabletop and stared at the half inch of golden liquor remaining in her glass. Her gorgeous hair fanned out around her. “Amvehl. Am-vehl.” Each time she said her own name, she altered which syllable she stressed. She was a touch tipsy, this stuff was strong.
“Stromkin.” Ronan said, for absolutely no damn reason he could think of. “Strom-kin.”
Calista, keeping her chin on the table, tilted her gaze to his, and her light green eyes brightened. She smiled, as if he’d given her roses and spoken to her in a private language.
Ronan’s heart thumped. Ridiculous to be flattered by her admiring gaze, he breathed in and out, holding her look. He had to get out of here. He forced his gaze away and rose to his feet.
Liam got up too, accidentally blocking Ronan. Liam leaned against the table and stretched his left leg out behind him. “Seriously, stop me next time I try and catch Mikah’s speed record. Eh?”
“I got you, bro,” Kiernan said. “But I say you could have gone faster.”
