* * *
Rhodes: You do realize most of the guys in this chat are married, right?
* * *
Lowell: I’m not married.
* * *
Wright: No, but you’re stupidly in love with your baby momma.
* * *
Lowell: Damn right I am.
* * *
Rhodes: Aw, he’s finally found his feelings. How sweet.
* * *
Wright: Like you’re one to talk, Beast.
* * *
Rhodes: *middle-finger emoji*
* * *
Smith: What? No comments from the rookie?
* * *
Lowell: He’s not a rookie anymore. We’re not allowed to call him that. We gotta get a better nickname for him.
* * *
Rhodes: How about little shithead?
* * *
Wright: Or numbnuts?
* * *
Lowell: Come on, guys…
* * *
Wright: You ruin all the fun, Captain.
* * *
Rhodes: Yeah, who else are we supposed to make fun of? Greer?
* * *
Greer: Go for it. I have no feelings.
* * *
Greer: And don’t worry, I have a date lined up. Can’t speak for Miller, though.
* * *
Smith: Dammit. Someone get the kid on board.
* * *
Greer: Whatever you say, Gramps.
* * *
Smith: *middle-finger emoji*
* * *
With a groan, I shove the phone back into my pocket.
Scout wasn’t the only one who used today as a distraction from her issues. The guys have been on my ass all week about getting a date for the fundraiser. I’m down to just two weeks to find someone, and my options still aren’t looking good. To be fair, I haven’t been spending any time looking either.
“So, have you found a date yet?” Greer asks. “Or do you need help considering your…” He flicks his eyes to Scout. “Issue.”
Fuck. I haven’t, and he knows I haven’t, which is going to make this ten times more embarrassing to say in front of Scout.
“I—”
“You didn’t tell him, Miller?” Scout says, bumping my shoulder playfully and giving a flirty smirk, a far cry from how she normally is with me. Then she looks at Greer. “I’m his date.”
6
SCOUT
“I’m his date.”
What the fuck, Scout?! What are you doing?
Greer looks from me to Miller and back to me again. It’s clear he’s sizing us up, trying to decide if he’s going to believe us or not.
I hope he does because being embarrassed by two different hockey players in one month would be truly traumatizing.
After a few moments, a smile spreads across his face. “Well, smack my ass.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t expect that one, but I’m happy all the same. Smith will be too.”
“Smith?” I question.
“Yeah, he’s heading the fundraiser you’re my date for,” Miller says, widening his eyes at me, encouraging me to play along.
“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “That’s right. You told me that. Duh.” I smack my forehead. I force a grin Greer’s way. “Sorry, long day. Speaking of…can I get you anything?”
“An iced coffee would be great. Black, please.”
I scurry away to fulfill his request but keep my ears tuned in to the conversation they begin to mutedly have the moment my back is turned.
“When the hell did this happen?” Greer asks. “And how? I thought she hated you.”
“I’m charming,” Miller insists, and I can just picture him grinning like a fool.
“You’re an idiot, and we both know it. You’re not paying her, are you?”
I’m insulted by that accusation for myself and for Miller. Is he really insinuating that Miller would have to pay someone to date him? He’s a damn hockey player! There is no way women aren’t falling at his feet. Or skates. Whatever.
“No, asshole. This is completely consensual. Trust me, I was just as surprised by it as you are.”
I tuck my lips together, trying not to laugh because, for once, he’s not lying. I have no idea why I said I was his date. I don’t even know what I’m his date for. I also have no idea what issue he was referring to—though that part does have me curious—but I’m not going to let Miller be picked on by his teammate.
“You swear you’re not coercing her?”
“I swear to God, Greer, I will nail your nuts to the locker room benches if you insult me again. I’ll—”
“Here’s that coffee,” I say, spinning back around, cutting off whatever threat was going to tumble from Miller’s mouth next—not because I’m worried for Greer, but mostly because I find it insanely hot to see Miller get all worked up.
They break apart, and Greer shoots me a grin I suppose is meant to be charming but is nothing like the ones Miller throws my way. There’s nothing genuine about it.
“Thanks,” he mutters, taking a sip, eying his teammate the whole time. They’re having a silent conversation now, much like the ones Stevie and I have. I’d kill to know what they’re saying. “So, what happened here today? How’d you rope Miller into getting behind the register?”
“I didn’t. He volunteered.”
Greer’s brows shoot up at that. “Interesting.”
“Not really,” Miller mumbles. “Is that all you stopped by for? Coffee?”
His teammate laughs at his obvious annoyance. “Yep.” He takes another sip, then smacks his lips. “Ahh. Refreshing.”
“Oh my god!”
A distant voice calls out, and we all turn our attention to find Stevie practically dragging my niece behind her as they hustle toward the truck.
When she approaches, she takes in the messy picnic tables and the trash cans that desperately need to be emptied and winces. “I am so sorry, Scout. I couldn’t bail on Macie, though. I—”
I hold my hand up, stopping her. “It’s fine. Macie comes first. I understand.”
I look over the edge of the truck and wave down at my niece, but she’s not paying me any attention.
Instead, she’s looking up at Greer, her brows slammed down tight, scowling up at him. I want to chastise her for being impolite, but then I notice what Greer’s doing…he’s scowling at her too.
“You’re tall,” she tells him.
“You’re short,” he shoots back with just as much sass as she’s throwing his way.
She curls her lips back at him, and he does the same. It’s comical watching a grown man sneering at a little girl.