“You need a haircut, bro,” Lance says on the way home from the gym, breaking me out of my pornish thoughts.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“That man-bun bullshit has got to go. It looks like you’ve got a stubby Doberman tail hanging off the back of your head.”

I laugh. “The ladies like it.”

“Yeah, well, you look like a douche.”

On that helpful note, Lance drops me off at my place so I can get ready. He’ll swing back around and pick me up tonight since I’m on the way to Waters’. It’s not a formal event, but we’re supposed to look decent, what with the whole thing being a catered dinner. I put on my favorite Lily-decorated underwear and cover them with black pants and a dress shirt. I’m not dealing with a tie tonight if it’s not mandatory, but I pocket one just in case.

By six-thirty Lance still hasn’t arrived. He’s much like Miller in this regard, so I’m used to him being late, but tonight I’d like to be on time. Or at least close to on time. I sit on my front porch and drum on the arm of the chair. I’ve already sent him a couple of messages. He assures me he’s on his way, and that Tash is the hold up. I don’t see how that’s possible, as Tash is about as low maintenance as a chick can get. I’ve never seen her in anything other than athletic gear and a ponytail.

It’s another fifteen minutes before they finally get here. Lance is driving his Hummer. It’s lime green. He likes to make a statement. Tash gets out of the passenger side, and for a second I don’t recognize her. She’s in this slinky black dress—not slutty, just fitted. It hugs all the incredible curves of her very toned, very fit body. Her hair is wavy and loose. And she’s wearing makeup.

“Holy shit.”

She flips me the bird. “Keep your opinions to yourself.” She adjusts her dress and touches her hair. “You can take the front seat. There’s more leg room.”

I shake my head. “No way. You stay put. There’s lots of room in the back of this asshole ride.”

I hold out my hand, offering to help her back up. She’s wearing heels. I’m not sure it’s something she does all that often based on the way she grips my arm.

“You’re smokin’, Tash.” I pat her hand.

She gives me the evil eye; then a hint of a smile appears. “Thanks, Randy.”

“You better watch yourself tonight, girl. You’re gonna need all those ninja fighting skills to keep the guys off you.”

“Get in the damn car, Balls. We’re already late,” Lance calls.

“Calm your tits, bro. That’s not my fault.”

“It’s not mine either,” Tash says.

There’s something in her tone and the way she looks at Lance. A while back Miller asked if I thought something was going on between them. Now I’m starting to wonder if he was on to something. Lance is giving her the eye—and not the angry eye, but the fuck eye.

I get into the backseat and slide to the middle so I can stick my head between them and be a dick. “So whose fault is it that we’re so late?”

Tash looks at Lance, a coy smile pulling at her lips.

He keeps his eyes on the road. “Tash had wardrobe issues.”

“If you say so,” she flips the visor down and checks her makeup.

It takes thirty-five minutes to get from my place to Waters’. The driveway is packed with cars, and there’s some dude in a suit directing us down the street. Lance lets us out and then parks the car so Tash doesn’t have to walk a long way in her heels.

I give her a sidelong glance. She does that fidgety thing girls do when they know you’re looking at them and they’re self-conscious about it.

“What?” she asks.

I shrug. “Nothing. You a little antsy tonight or something?”

“No. I’m fine.” She adjusts her dress again.

She’s been the team trainer for about two years now, according to Miller. I’ve only been in Chicago for a few months, so I don’t know her all that well. She’s good at her job, she pushes us hard, and she’s fun to hang out with, but tonight she seems off.

“You wanna wait for Lance or head inside?”

“He knows where we’ll be. Let’s go.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and starts up the driveway.

Waitstaff greet us at the door with cocktails. We each take one and survey the house. It’s full of people, but I can see from the front foyer all the way to the open sliding doors at the back. They lead right into the backyard, which is also packed.

“Holy hell, Waters knows how to throw a party.” Tash takes a sip of her drink. “Don’t let me have too many of these; I’m liable to get up on a table and do a striptease.”

“I don’t think you’d get too many complaints about that. Except maybe from that one over there.” I point to a little old lady sitting on the couch, holding a wine glass with two hands.

“Oh, God. There are grandparents here. I hope the team doesn’t do anything to embarrass Violet.”

I snort. “Pretty sure she can do that all on her own.”

Violet is a riot. She’s probably worse than most of the guys on the team with the stuff that comes out of her mouth. I’m not sure if she’s a nervous person or half-crazy, but she’s entertaining to be around.

As if she hears us talking about her, Violet comes traipsing through the crowd. She’s all curves with a tiny waist. She’s wearing a red dress. It’s one of those wrappy things, so there’s a lot of cleavage. Violet’s got a huge rack, especially on a body as small as hers. It’s hard not to stare.