Текст книги "The Play"

Автор книги: Karina Halle

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

I’m only a few yards from the end. I know Lachlan is going slow, that he’s going to let me win, but it doesn’t matter because—

Splat.

I slip again and faceplant straight into the mud. I immediately try and get to my feet, but I feel Lachlan looming over me like a storm cloud. He steps on either side of my body, straddling me, then drops to his knees, so my sides are between his legs.

“Nice try,” he says gruffly.

“Is that a pun?” I say, spitting out grass. I attempt to turn over but his tree-trunk thighs grip me in place. I’m not complaining.

“It would have been a pun if you made the try,” he says. “You didn’t. I stopped you.”

“I fell,” I say through gritted teeth. “I was already down.”

I hear him grunt from behind me. “And I wasn’t about to tackle you. So let’s just pretend you didn’t fall, and I brought you down, like in a normal game. Now release the ball.”

“Fuck that,” I mumble, holding the ball tight beneath me.

“It’s the rules,” he says, leaning over me so his lips are near my ear. I can’t be sure but I’m almost certain he has an erection and its pressing against the top of my ass. He said he wasn’t wearing a cup so it has to be all him.

Please let it be all him.

“Fuck your rules,” I manage to say.

He pauses. “No rules, then? All right.”

I feel him lean back, easing off me slightly.

Then his hands are down at my shoulders and underneath my arms and his fingers are going crazy.

I yelp in surprise. My fucking god, is he tickling me?

“What?” I cry out before bursting into nervous giggles. “You can’t tickle!”

“No rules,” he says, and I can hear the enjoyment in his voice.

“Stop!” I yell, laughing again. “Please, this is torture!”

“Release the ball.”

But I can’t. I’m laughing too hard, my body attempting to curl up into a ball even though I’m between him like a vise.

“I’m going to bite your leg,” I warn him, trying to twist around and see if I can get a nip of his grass-stained knee. I’m flexible but I’m not that flexible.

“Release the ball.”

“Fine!” I shout, but since I can’t move I can’t even get it out from under me. “Fine, you win, you can have the ball.”

Suddenly he gets up and I’m free. I roll over onto my back and stare at him, holding up the ball. If he was one step closer to my face and his shorts weren’t so tight, I could try and see up them.

He looks down at me, not smiling, but there is a hint of triumph in those expressive eyes.

I shake the ball at him. “Aren’t you going to take it?”

He continues to stare. I can’t tell what the hell he is thinking. I feel like he’s trying to memorize me.

After a few beats and as the rain falls down on us, he takes the ball with one hand then grabs my hand with the other.

“Come on,” he says. “I think we’ve had enough for today.”

I’m hauled effortlessly to my feet, my body mere inches from his. We’re both breathing hard, like we just had epic sex. I can only imagine.

“Hope that gave your article some insight,” he tells me, voice low and eyes focused on mine. I watch the streams of water run down his face. I barely feel the cold that’s slowly seeping into my bones, the feeling in my muscles that warns me I’ll be sore tomorrow.

I nod, licking my lips, tasting water and salt. “I think it will.”

He glances at my car in the distance, brows furrowed. “We should probably go clean up and get dry.”

“Sure,” I say, hoping that this might turn into the two of us cleaning up and getting dry…together. “Do you need a ride home? How did you get here?”

“I took a cab,” he says, taking a step away from me and tucking the ball underneath his arm.

I look at his outfit briefly, not wanting for my eyes to get trapped in the tractor beam that is his body. I could literally stare at it all day, every single muscle and ripped line that his wet shorts and t-shirt display. “You took a cab in that?”

“I was dry at the time. And anything goes in San Francisco, doesn’t it?”

I grin at him. “It sure does. How about in Edinburgh?”

He looks away and shrugs. “Just about.” He jerks his chin at my car. “How about we get moving? You don’t want to catch a cold standing around here.”

He starts walking to the car and I wait just a moment to watch his ass go before I catch up with him.

CHAPTER SIX

Lachlan

I didn’t really know what to expect when I told Kayla to meet me at the rugby match. I just figured if she could see the game being played, maybe it would help her with her writing. It would give her more than what I gave her before, which was nothing.

The only problem was the game ended a half hour earlier than usual because of the weather, so she only got a few glimpses of it before it was my turn to show her the ropes. I know she thought I arranged it all so I could show off, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

All right. So maybe there was some truth to it. But I had no idea that she actually wanted to play with me. She took off her fancy shoes and work jacket, and got down and dirty in the mud with me, without any hesitation.

This solidified that the girl was nuts. Clearly. But there was something about her brand of crazy that intrigued me, maybe even more than it should have. Enough so that when she pulled up to the flat I’ve been renting near AT&T Park, I did something I never thought I’d do.

I invited her inside.

I haven’t had a girl in my home for a long time, whether it be in Edinburgh or San Francisco, and I didn’t think I’d start now, especially when I was so close to going back to Scotland. And even though it’s because I’m being polite, because I don’t want her to drive home shivering cold and wet, it still surprises me.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

She stares blankly at me, her eye makeup starting to gather underneath her eyes. We are both dirty, muddy wrecks and I feel bad that her car is taking the brunt of it.

I try to smile, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “It doesn’t seem right for you to drive home like this.”

“Do you have a stash of women’s clothes upstairs?”

“No. But I have some dry, clean clothes you can wear. Just till you get home.” I glance at her thighs and trim waist. My clothes will be absolutely swimming on her, but still.

“Okay,” she says, smiling, color coming to her cheeks. I get her to park in the empty space that’s leased to my unit and we head upstairs.

I wish I’d tidied up a bit. “Uh, sorry it’s a shithole,” I tell her as we walk inside the flat.

She looks around and shrugs. “Looks like a man lives here. I’m okay with that.”

I watch her briefly, her jeans clinging to her legs and perky arse, her long hair sticking to her back. She’s pretty toned all over and proved to be in great shape earlier today. I need to stop checking her out though.

“I’ll get you something. Be right back,” I tell her before disappearing into the bedroom. I grab a clean towel from the linen closet, then fish out the smallest t-shirt I have, which will still dwarf her, and a pair of clean drawstring running shorts.

When I come back, she’s staring at the weird art on the walls. “This all you?” she asks as I hand her the clothes and towel.

I shake my head. “Nah. Came with the place. I haven’t been here long enough to settle in. No personal touches.”

She thanks me for the towel and starts fluffing her hair with it. “When do you leave?”

“Two weeks,” I tell her. “Actually, less than that.” I gesture to the washroom. “Did you want to shower?”

A coy smile tugs at her lips. “Is that an invitation?”

I stare at her, not sure what to say.

She laughs. “Just kidding. Go ahead, I’m fine with this.”

I swallow, give her a nod, and shower fast, even though the hot water begs me to stay longer. I wrap the towel around my waist and look at myself in the mirror. Without a shirt, every tattoo on my shoulders, arms and torso is on display, and I hope she doesn’t ask me about them again. They each represent a part of my life, and some of those parts, a girl like her just wouldn’t understand.

When I come out the washroom, I’m surprised to find her sitting at the table with a notepad and pen in her hand, her phone beside her. She’s wearing my clothes, which look strangely becoming on her. They look…right.

She looks up at me and her eyes widen. To her credit, she blinks and immediately averts her eyes back to the paper. I quickly go into my room and throw on jeans and a t-shirt before coming back out to the living room.

“So,” she says, and I notice she’s trying not to meet my eyes.

I take a seat across from her and study her. She’s tapping her pen against the table, reading over the jotted questions on the paper, chewing on her lower lip. Her mascara is still smudged beneath her eyes, but other than that she looks fresh, her skin like cream. I guess she can feel my gaze because she finally looks up. “So,” I prompt her and gesture to the work in front of her, “what’s this?”

Her mouth twists sheepishly. “I realized that I still haven’t interviewed you properly.”

“You really aren’t much of a journalist, are you?” I say. I know I don’t sound like I’m joking, but I am. Still, Kayla’s mouth turns down at that and I realize she’s far more sensitive about this whole thing than I thought.

“No,” she says after a beat. “I’m just trying.”

I don’t like hearing that melancholy in her voice. It’s such a change from the coy, flirtatious girl from earlier. “You’re doing a great job,” I reassure her.

“Do you mind?”

I shake my head. “Ask away.” I pause. “I promise I’ll be a gentleman this time.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like it when people say what’s on their mind,” she says. “I’m not so different.”

“No, you definitely aren’t.”

She looks at me, eyes soft, and I can’t help but stare back at her. You could get lost in those eyes. They’re so dark, like wandering in the woods at night.

I clear my throat, realizing I’m scrutinizing her, and she sits up straighter, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. “Okay,” she says. “Well, the one thing I want to know is…why is this such a passion project for you?”

“Bram’s initiative?”

“Yeah,” she says, tapping her pencil against her lips. “What made you hop on a plane from Scotland and come to help him out? Are the two of you really close?”

I watch her for a moment, but her expression is hopeful, innocent. She doesn’t realize she’s almost getting too personal again. “We’re not that close, but I take family very seriously. Truth be told, I misunderstood Bram. From his social media, from what my parents would say about him, I just assumed he was a playboy who wouldn’t grow up. And while that was true, I also didn’t think he was the type to be charitable. But what he’s doing proves the guy is really invested in making a difference. He wants to do more with his life. He wants to be seen as more. And that’s something I can relate to.”

“This is almost turning into a bromance,” she says under her breath.

“Also,” I add carefully, “I believe in his vision. The underrepresented are the underdogs. They are the ones fighting a fight that no one can imagine. He’s giving a home to those people, the ones who have been cast aside. The strays. The wounded, the ruined, and the lost. Society can’t begin to understand their problems, and it rarely provides a solution either. Though Bram’s complex is small, it’s a start. Big things start somewhere. Great things can come from this.”

She’s scribbling furiously as she writes it all down. I eye her phone. “Would it not be easier to record this on your phone?”

She smiles but doesn’t look up. “It feels more authentic this way.” She reads it over, her lips moving, then raises her brow, impressed. “So do you think you’ll go back to Scotland wanting to do something similar? Follow in his footsteps?”

My lips twitch into a small smile. “I might.”

Her brows furrow. She’s assessing me, trying to read what I mean. I know better than to turn her away from the subject matter. This is really about Bram, not me.

We talk a bit more about the next steps needed in the development, my rugby career, and some things about Scotland. To her credit, she manages to keep the questions at a shallow level, even though after a while I want to flip the tables on her and start asking her questions. Not to even the score—just because I’m getting curious. I hate to admit it, but I want to know more about her—this crazy, flirtatious, ballsy, ambitious, yet sensitive girl. From the things I’ve heard from Bram compared to the things I’ve seen, I’m starting to think she’s a bit misunderstood too.

But I don’t ask her. Because that’s not why I’m here and that’s not why she’s here, no matter how I catch her glancing at me from time to time. Funny how it annoys me when Justine casts a sly glance, but when Kayla does it…it’s flattering.

That’s just my ego talking though. Sometimes it can be as big as the moon. Other days it’s not much more than a seed.

When we’re all done, I get up from my chair and say, “That went well. I hope you got everything you need.”

She stares at me for a moment, then says, “Oh,” and gets to her feet and starts shoving her stuff in her purse. “Yes, thank you. That should be it. I think I already have the angle and everything.”

“Good,” I say, feeling strangely awkward. “If you need anything else, just ask.” I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much in a long time, and even though saying goodbye should be simple, somehow it’s not coming across that way.

I watch as she slides her shoes on her feet. I suppress a grin from the sight of her in my baggy workout clothes and leopard print heels.

She looks up and catches my eye, flashing me a playful smile. “Maybe I’ll start a new fashion trend.”

“You can pull it off,” I admit, folding my arms across my chest.

Her eyes rest briefly on my forearms, then she looks away, slinging her purse over her shoulder and heading for the door.

“Oh, wait,” I tell her. I go into the kitchen and pull out a plastic bag, then take her wet jeans, shirt, and a tiny pair of pink underwear that were drying near the sink and shove them inside. I walk over to her and hand her the bag. “Don’t forget your clothes.”

She tugs at the t-shirt she’s wearing. “And what about your clothes? Will I see you before you leave?”

I shrug. “Maybe. If you don’t, keep them.”

She frowns for a moment, then raises her chin. “I’m sure I’ll get them to Bram soon. Well…thanks again for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Thanks for being a good sport.”

“Ha,” she says, opening the door. “I have a feeling I’ll be cursing you tomorrow when I can’t feel my calves.”

She wiggles her fingers at me and leaves. I stand there for a moment, watching her sashay off, her perky little arse eclipsed by my shorts.

I go back into my flat and close the door. I lean back against it, close my eyes, and exhale. I can still see her walking away in my mind.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kayla

I’m such an idiot.

Seriously. I really thought that if I conveniently forgot my wet clothes behind at his place, it would give me an excuse to go back and get them. But fuck, this dude is not like the others. It’s like flirting with a block of ice. And yeah, I could see it slowly melting over time—I mean, I’m still convinced he had an erection when he was pinning me to the ground—but Lachlan doesn’t have much time here. Which means I don’t have a lot of time to try.

“What about your vow?” Nicola asks as Ava noisily sips on her smoothie. It’s Saturday afternoon and the three of us are in a coffee shop, celebrating the fact that I’d finished my article and handed it in to Neil yesterday, who is going to fix it up and hand it in to Joe. I’d spent three days writing it and rewriting it until finally I was happy with it. Neil was happy with it. And Nicola just read the whole thing, looking damn impressed.

Naturally though, the conversation shifted to Lachlan. Well, me bitching about Lachlan, this beast of a man who seems forever off-limits.

“My vow?” I repeat, confused as to what that has to do with anything.

I look over at Ava who is coloring in her book, her tongue sticking out in concentration. I put my hands over her ears and say, “Fuck my vow.”

When I release Ava, she looks at me then her mom, and says, “Auntie Kayla said a bad word again.”

Nicola smiles at her adoringly then gives me a mock stink-eye. After having the two of them live with me for so long, Ava knows the drill very well.

“I knew you wouldn’t last very long with your…drought,” Nicola says, rather smugly I might add.

“Hey, I’m still going,” I tell her. “But for Lachlan, I would make the exception. In fact, if by some grace of god I was able to get in his pants, I swear I’d never touch another man again.”

She looks startled at that. “Jeez. Be careful what you wish for, Kayla.”

I wave my hand at her dismissively before sucking down my iced coffee. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen. He is completely immune to my charms. I mean, I was running around in the mud, soaking wet in a white t-shirt. I was writhing beneath him. It was practically like having sex. And yet…nothing. Later on at his place, he was about to take a shower, and I made a joke about joining him. You should have seen his face.”

“Did he look disgusted?” Nicola says, already sympathetic.

“No,” I tell her. “But thanks for thinking he might have. He just looked…I don’t know. I can’t read him at all. It’s like he didn’t even hear me.”

“Maybe he didn’t,” she says.

“He heard me,” I say, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms. “He’s just not interested.”

“Well, you can’t be everyone’s type,” she tells me, taking one of Ava’s crayons and coloring a square before Ava swats her away.

“I refuse to believe that.”

She sighs and looks up at me. “I have to say though, I didn’t think he would give you this much.” She nods at the article on the table I printed out from my work computer. “I mean, whenever I’ve spoken to him, he’s only responded in monosyllabic caveman grunts.”

She’s not exactly wrong. Half of his responses to me are in the form of grunts and other manly noises, but I feel more adept at distinguishing those noises. “Getting him to talk is kind of like pulling teeth. The whole time I was asking him questions, I was terrified I was going to say something wrong and set him off like a bomb again.”

“I wonder what his deal is,” Nicola muses.

“Yes!” I exclaim, slamming my palms on the table. Ava and Nicola both jump. “What is his deal? Can you find out for me?”

Nicola’s face scrunches up. “I told you, the guy barely talks to me.”

“Yes, but Bram would know.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Bram says he barely talks to him either, and when he does, you can be sure it’s nothing personal.”

“I need to talk to Bram,” I say, nodding to myself.

“Well, come to the Lion tonight,” she says. “I’m working a short shift so Bram is meeting me there. I’m sure he’d like to read the article, too.” She looks at her phone to check the time. “Speaking of, I better drop Ava off at my mom’s and get ready.”

I hug the both of them goodbye, then order decaf. I don’t need the caffeine because I already feel like I’m flying. This article really has me all jazzed about life, which is kind of a weird thing in itself. And it’s scary. Because what if this doesn’t work out the way I want it to? What if Joe just takes the article, prints it, and that’s it? I go back to my regular job, being bored out of my mind. What if I work forever in advertising, doing the same old shit every single day? I don’t know if I can do it, now that I know something better is out there, something that makes me feel…alive. It would kind of be akin to living your life in darkness and someone giving you the sun. Okay, scratch that—that’s way too schmaltzy and dramatic. But still…it would suck balls. And not the good kind.

Naturally my thoughts drift to Lachlan after that. I really need to get that man out of my head, but every time I picture his face, that body, that gravelly voice that holds a million secrets, I get this rush inside me, like birds being let loose from a cage. That, combined with the article, and I feel like I’m starting to go a bit insane. Perhaps I just need to put my head down and conjure up that black shriveled heart of mine that doesn’t get too excited about anything.

But curiosity killed the Kayla, and later that evening I find myself at the Lion.

The moment I walk in, I’m accosted by drunken hollers and James’s angry music—Faith No More, again. It’s Saturday night and everyone in the city seems to be pre-drinking here before they hit the clubs. I quickly scan the bar, looking for Bram, but I keep making eye contact with a few guys that I know I shouldn’t. I have to admit, it would be nice to just find a cute one and have a random hookup. Maybe it’s the lack of sex that’s turning me into a crazy person. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it is. So much sexual frustration and no place for it to go.

But to be honest, even though getting laid would help in the short term, it wouldn’t do shit in the long term. I’d just feel empty afterward, because when it comes down to it, a random hookup with a random guy isn’t what I want at all. I know exactly what I want, and I can’t have it.

I spot Nicola at the bar, slinging drinks. She’s slammed, but as I come over, she catches my eye and gestures to the booths by the washroom. There’s a hint of warning in her eyes, which makes me pause, but she’s in no position to explain. People are practically throwing money at her. James, at the other end of the bar, gives me a nod but he’s equally busy.

I make my way through the crowd to the other side of the bar and finally see Bram sitting in the booth, nursing a few fingers of Scotch.

Sitting across from him is Lachlan, his big hand curled around what looks like a glass of water.

I hate to use the term clench, but that’s exactly what my body does when I see him. I clench, my thighs squeezing together, as if I can already imagine his cock inside me.

Damnit, I need help.

For a moment I stand there, wondering if maybe I should just turn around and leave. I’m only here because I want to talk to Bram about Lachlan, not actually see Lachlan, and the fact that he’s here makes me both turned on and absolutely terrified.

But then Lachlan looks up beneath his baseball cap and sees me. He doesn’t smile. That would be asking too much. But he stops frowning for a moment as he eyes me up and down, so I’ll take what I can get.

I swallow the lump in my throat, throw my shoulders back, and walk over to them, my eyes going from Lachlan to Bram and back to Lachlan again.

“Hey,” I say to them, standing at the end of the table.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Bram says, but to my surprise it’s Lachlan who moves over in the booth to make room for me.

I give Lachlan a grateful smile and sit down next to him. Tonight I’m wearing a black fringe skirt with bare legs and when he glances down at them briefly, his own thighs so close to mine, I hope he likes what he sees.

If he does, though, he doesn’t give any indication. He doesn’t say anything at all, just takes a sip of his water. I watch his throat as he swallows until I can tell that Bram is staring at me.

I tear my eyes away to glare at Bram, but he’s already shaking his head like I’m being ridiculous. I ignore him and pull the article out of my purse, unfolding it and holding it out.

“Did you guys want to read the article?” I ask, and Bram immediately snatches it from my hands.

I glance at Lachlan. “It’s all about you. You really should read it first.”

He gives me a fleeting smile and scratches at his beard. “I’ll read it when it goes to print. Seems more special that way.”

Bram looks over the paper at Lachlan for a second, frowns, then goes back to reading. I drum my fingers anxiously along the edge of the table, waiting for his final verdict.

“Well, well, well,” Bram finally says. He hands it back to me and gives me a charming grin. “I’m impressed.”

“Really?”

“Aye. Reads like the real thing. Thank you,” he adds emphatically. “I think that this could really help.”

“I fucking hope so,” I tell him. “I wrote the shit out of this thing.”

“That you did. And you made Mr. Rugby here sound like an angel.” Bram picks up his drink and raises it to Lachlan in a mock toast.

Lachlan grunts in return before excusing himself. I quickly hop out of the booth, and as he gets out, his arm brushes against mine. I nearly burst from the sensation, that quick whisper of hot skin that sends my whole body ablaze.

He saunters off toward the bathroom and I watch that ass in those jeans for as long as I can. It’s becoming a bit of a habit. The best habit.

“Look at you,” Bram says teasingly.

I whirl around and glare at him. “Look at me what?”

“You,” he says, then nods toward the washroom. “Him. You are such the smitten kitten.”

“Smitten kitten?” I repeat, sitting back down. “You’ve been hanging around Nicola too long.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so hung up on someone before,” he adds.

“What?” I exclaim. “That’s ridiculous! I’m always hung up on someone.”

He presses his lips together, shaking his head. “Nope. Not like this. I know your looks. You’re practically drooling.”

“Bullshit,” I say, leaning across the table and looking him in the eye. “You may think you know me, Bram, but you don’t. So I think your cousin is hot, so what?”

“Just hot?” he says. He swirls his scotch around his glass and grins down at it. “All right. Too bad the smitten kitten is climbing up the wrong tree.”

My face twists in confusion. “Huh? Why are we still talking about cats?”

He shrugs. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. As if you couldn’t figure it out already. He’s not so easily…swayed.”

I roll my eyes. “Believe me, I’ve figured that out.”

And yet when Lachlan returns and asks if I want something to drink, my heart starts dancing to a hopeful beat.

“Hmmm,” Bram muses, watching him go.

“Let me guess, he never normally buys girls drinks,” I say.

“Not that I’ve seen,” he says. “Then again, he doesn’t drink much anyway.”

I want to press Bram more about that, find out why. With his bruiser personality, Lachlan doesn’t seem like the straight-edge type. But if it’s something personal, I know Bram will shut me down.

Soon Lachlan comes back with another glass of water for himself and a Bellini for me. He slides it along the table to me and says, “This is thanks. For the article.”

Oh. So he wasn’t buying me a drink because he finally realized I was hot stuff. Damn.

“Did James make you pay for that?” Bram asks.

He nods. “I guess the courtesy doesn’t extend to family. I don’t think the guy likes me much.”

“James doesn’t like any guy who’s bigger than him,” Bram points out.

“Except for Linden,” I say. “But that’s a twisted bromance right there.” I give Lachlan a grateful smile and move down so he can sit next to me again. “Well, thank you for the drink. You’re the one who was gracious with his time and my fumbling questions.”

He nods, pulling down the brim of his cap slightly, fidgeting. After a few beats he says, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you what kind of exercise you do.”

I tilt my head at him and he quickly continues, “You played really well on that field. I mean, you were tireless.”

“Oh,” I say, and exchange a look with Bram. “Thanks. I usually just go to the gym in the mornings but I take fencing lessons once a week.”

“Fencing?” he asks. “That’s….rare.”

I smile sweetly at him. “I’m a rare thing.” I don’t look at Bram, but I know he’s not looking too impressed at my flirting skills. I go on. “It helps me stay disciplined but lets me get my anger out at the same time.”

“You struggle with discipline?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Isn’t that obvious?” I say, and find myself shifting closer to him.

He considers that, his eyes softening as he looks at me.

“Plus,” I add, “it gives me a booty. No flat ass for me.”

“Definitely not,” he says, and I can’t help but beam, my nerves tingling all over.

Bram clears his throat. Loudly. I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed that he’s interrupting whatever kind of banter Lachlan and I have going. Doesn’t he realize what a big deal this is? Bantering with Lachlan is like unlocking another level in the game. Plus he just complimented my damn ass.

But before we can get back to it, Linden comes into the Lion, strutting toward us with a big smile on his face.

“Hello, hello,” he says to us and plops down beside Bram.

“Oh great, the Scottish trifecta,” I say underneath my breath.

“You’ll be changing your tune in a minute, missy,” Linden says. “Because I’ve got some pretty fucking awesome news.”

The three of us stare at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smiles triumphantly. “One of my clients is a sponsor for the Outside Lands Festival. I guess he was feeling generous today because he gave me five VIP passes to the festival next weekend.”

“Nice perk,” Bram comments.

“Obviously I’m giving them to you,” Linden says.

“But there are six of us, including Steph and Nicola,” I say. “So we can’t all go.”

“It’s all right,” Lachlan says. “Count me out for the festival.”

I’m hit with disappointment. “Don’t be silly,” I tell him. “You’re the guest here, you’re definitely going. It’s a San Francisco institution. I’ll not go. I’m pretty sure Linden wasn’t inviting me anyway.”

And when I look at Linden and see the sheepish glint in his eyes, I know it’s the truth. When it comes to him making plans, sometimes he conveniently leaves me out of them until Steph gets angry. But I can’t say I don’t do the same either.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Bram says. “I’ll buy my own damn VIP passes. There. Problem solved.”

Lachlan shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m not a fan of music festivals anyway.”

“You don’t like music?” I ask.

He frowns. “I love music. People, not so much.”

I can’t help but smile. “Maybe we are more alike than I thought.”

I swear there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Ah, but the people who attend Outside Lands are scantily clad girls who drink shitloads of wine and dance in their bikinis to music that isn’t even playing yet,” Linden says. “Easy place for you to pick up a few girls, wouldn’t you say?”

The fuck? I glare at Linden. I just know he’s suggesting this shit to piss me off.

“Nah,” Lachlan quickly dismisses him. “Not my crowd, not my scene.”