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Why would they have been arguing? In public?
By the end of the match, at least a dozen people had approached Tina to compliment her on the cupcakes MJ’s had provided, and the Chapman twins had scored an additional two goals for their team. One each. Taking the older team’s final tally up to three, against the younger team’s six.
“At least the suckage wasn’t too bad,” Daff said with a grin after the final whistle signaled the end of the match. “But God, without the Dishy Twins, that would have been pretty grim.”
“And Spence wants to make this a monthly event? I don’t think I’d be able to live with Sam’s premanstrual tension before each game.”
Tina choked on her chocolate cupcake, coughed, and then laughed. Lia was pretty funny for such a sweet do-gooder.
“So we’ll see you and Libby at the shower tomorrow, right?” Daff asked while her sisters left the stands to go comfort their men. Daff just waved at Spencer, who blew her a kiss. She rolled her eyes, but Tina could see she was pleased by the gesture.
“I wasn’t sure it was okay. I mean, your sister just invited us, and you barely know us.”
“Yeah, Lia is one of those weird idealistic people who thinks everybody should love everybody and we should all just get along,” Daff said fondly.
“Libby has similar tendencies. Not as bad as your sister, though. I mean . . .” Tina lowered her voice confidentially before whispering, “She hugged me.”
Daff made a derisive sound in the back of her throat, but her smile was affectionate.
“Sam and I have been trying to break her of some of her more cringey tendencies, but I think we’d both be gutted if she actually listened to us. Lia’s just . . . Lia.”
“She’s very sweet,” Tina offered.
“Too sweet.” Daff’s unwitting repetition of Tina’s own words made her chuckle again. She really liked this woman. And that was practically unheard of for Tina.
“We’ll be there,” Tina promised, suddenly excited by the prospect.
“So are you going to ignore that poor man all night, or do you intend to throw him a bone?” Daff asked; the shift in topic startled Tina into following the other woman’s pointed stare and looking straight into the very gaze she’d been avoiding all evening.
Daff got up—her husband appearing as if by magic to escort her down the stands—leaving Tina still staring at Harris, who couldn’t seem to tear his own eyes away. His hand went to his chest, in a gesture she had always noticed but never really registered before now. Suddenly she knew what he’d been seeking all those other times: that contentious pendant.
She wondered if he was wearing it now . . . and found herself unable to decide how she felt about the possibility. She deliberately remained seated on the wooden bleachers, and he took that as the assent that it was and slowly, almost reluctantly, made his way toward her.
He moved with such sexy masculine self-assurance that he quite stole her breath away, and Tina found herself absolutely riveted by his devastating grace.
“Thanks for the snacks,” he said inanely once he’d finally reached her. He sat down next to her, maintaining a polite distance between their shoulders. His hands were loosely clasped between his knees. She could feel the heat coming off him in waves and smelled the clean, healthy sweat of exertion, mixed with that delicious forest scent he always wore, and it reminded her of the last time they’d been together. Reminded her of Harris coming helplessly in her mouth. He had smelled this way, been this hot . . .
She swallowed convulsively as she remembered the salty, musky taste of him. And mentally shook herself. She was being ridiculous. That was just sex . . . this was reality. This awful, awkward silence between them.
“You’re welcome,” she finally responded and then found herself at a loss. Not sure what else to say. She finally settled on “Good game.”
“Yeah, if you call being humiliated by a bunch of kids good,” he said with a wry twist of his lips.
“From what I understand, those kids needed the victory more than your fragile male egos did,” she said, and he smiled.
“That’s the only thing making it tolerable.”
“You and Greyson were pretty good.”
“He was better,” Harris said with a frown. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Really?” Greyson had never struck her as the competitive sort.
“I think he’s been hanging out with Spencer Carlisle too much.”
“He has? They don’t seem to have anything in common at all.”
“I think Greyson likes no longer being the quietest person in the room. I mean, that Spencer guy rarely speaks.”
“I heard Greyson and Libby had an argument in public.”
“Are we back to talking about those two?” Harris asked gently. “I think we have plenty more to discuss than them, don’t you?”
