one?”
“Maybe we should ask the boss?” Donovan suggested, reaching for his sixth slice of pizza. The front-rower was a hard guy to fill up. At six foot three he was, in part thanks to his Maori heritage, built like a brick shithouse.
Everyone glanced at Tanner, who gave a nonchalant shrug but couldn’t hide the start of a goofy grin. His mates gave him absolute hell for it, drumming on the table and grunting “Woo, woo, woo,” like a bunch of wild gorillas.
“Okay, okay,” Tanner griped good-naturedly, picking up his hand now Donovan was back. “Are we playing fucking poker or you want to sit around and knit or something?”
Everyone followed suit, and there was quiet for long moments as they checked out their hands. “Speaking of chicks,” Linc said, breaking the silence and glancing over the top of his cards at Dex. “How’s things with Chuck’s sister?”
Dex had been having a good night. He’d heaped plenty of crap on his mates while avoiding the same fate, and he was winning. Glancing at his pathetic hand and the five pairs of eyes now trained quizzically on him, he figured he’d just run shit out of luck.
“Nuthin’ to tell,” he remarked casually as he threw four cards down, retaining his ace.
Nothing he wanted to tell them anyway.
Nothing he wanted to think about right now, given how he’d crept out of her bed at dawn and left without saying good-bye.
He’d fallen asleep.
Dexter Blake did not fall asleep with a woman. He didn’t spend the night. He was still trying to wrap his head around that one. And the fact she hadn’t contacted him…
In his experience, women always tried to push him for more.
“I’ll take four,” he said to Ryder.
“You go on that date?” Tanner asked.
“Yep.”
“How was it?” he pushed.
Dex shot his friend and captain a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. “We playing fucking poker or knitting?”
Tanner whistled long through his teeth and shook his head in faux seriousness. “That good, huh?”
“Sure as shit doesn’t sound like he got laid, does it?” Linc added.
Bodie nodded. “Totally struck out,” he agreed.
“She do that painting?” Donovan asked, lifting his chin toward the kitchen.
Dex had glued some magnetic strips to the back of the canvas frame and slapped it on the side of his fridge. He’d forgotten about it being there. “Yep.”
Four pairs of eyes swivelled to the painting. Linc got up— of course he did —to inspect it closer. He plucked it off the fridge and brought it back to the table. “That’s some girly-assed goalposts,” he said as he passed it around.
Dex felt unaccountably twitchy at the painting being pawed by a bunch of blokes who wouldn’t know a work of art from their elbows.
“Looks like those murals we saw at the kids hospital last week,” Bodie said when it got to him. “Hey, wait a minute…” He glanced at Dex. “This is her signature, too.” He pointed at where Harper had signed it. “I remember that little heart instead of the a.”
Dex wondered how long it would take Linc’s filthy mind to connect the dots.
Not long, as it turned out.
“ Aha ,” he crowed, grinning around his beer bottle as he took a triumphant swig. “So that’s where you disappeared to the other day.”
“And came back with a mysteriously wet jersey,” Tanner added.
Dex glared at his friend. “The tap over sprayed.”
Everyone laughed. “ Something over sprayed,” Linc said. “It’s usually what happens when you live like a monk. Massive sperm pressure, man, I’m telling you, it’ll kill you.”
“And what would you know about MSP, Linc?” Donovan quipped.
“It’s platonic, ” Dex growled, wanting to put an end to the conversation for once and for all.
“Sure it is.” Tanner grinned. “If platonic means ripping one off with Chuckie’s sister in a hospital full of sick kids.”
Dex flipped him the bird. “Bite me.”
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Donovan mused.
Linc
“Maybe we should ask the boss?” Donovan suggested, reaching for his sixth slice of pizza. The front-rower was a hard guy to fill up. At six foot three he was, in part thanks to his Maori heritage, built like a brick shithouse.
Everyone glanced at Tanner, who gave a nonchalant shrug but couldn’t hide the start of a goofy grin. His mates gave him absolute hell for it, drumming on the table and grunting “Woo, woo, woo,” like a bunch of wild gorillas.
“Okay, okay,” Tanner griped good-naturedly, picking up his hand now Donovan was back. “Are we playing fucking poker or you want to sit around and knit or something?”
Everyone followed suit, and there was quiet for long moments as they checked out their hands. “Speaking of chicks,” Linc said, breaking the silence and glancing over the top of his cards at Dex. “How’s things with Chuck’s sister?”
Dex had been having a good night. He’d heaped plenty of crap on his mates while avoiding the same fate, and he was winning. Glancing at his pathetic hand and the five pairs of eyes now trained quizzically on him, he figured he’d just run shit out of luck.
“Nuthin’ to tell,” he remarked casually as he threw four cards down, retaining his ace.
Nothing he wanted to tell them anyway.
Nothing he wanted to think about right now, given how he’d crept out of her bed at dawn and left without saying good-bye.
He’d fallen asleep.
Dexter Blake did not fall asleep with a woman. He didn’t spend the night. He was still trying to wrap his head around that one. And the fact she hadn’t contacted him…
In his experience, women always tried to push him for more.
“I’ll take four,” he said to Ryder.
“You go on that date?” Tanner asked.
“Yep.”
“How was it?” he pushed.
Dex shot his friend and captain a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. “We playing fucking poker or knitting?”
Tanner whistled long through his teeth and shook his head in faux seriousness. “That good, huh?”
“Sure as shit doesn’t sound like he got laid, does it?” Linc added.
Bodie nodded. “Totally struck out,” he agreed.
“She do that painting?” Donovan asked, lifting his chin toward the kitchen.
Dex had glued some magnetic strips to the back of the canvas frame and slapped it on the side of his fridge. He’d forgotten about it being there. “Yep.”
Four pairs of eyes swivelled to the painting. Linc got up— of course he did —to inspect it closer. He plucked it off the fridge and brought it back to the table. “That’s some girly-assed goalposts,” he said as he passed it around.
Dex felt unaccountably twitchy at the painting being pawed by a bunch of blokes who wouldn’t know a work of art from their elbows.
“Looks like those murals we saw at the kids hospital last week,” Bodie said when it got to him. “Hey, wait a minute…” He glanced at Dex. “This is her signature, too.” He pointed at where Harper had signed it. “I remember that little heart instead of the a.”
Dex wondered how long it would take Linc’s filthy mind to connect the dots.
Not long, as it turned out.
“ Aha ,” he crowed, grinning around his beer bottle as he took a triumphant swig. “So that’s where you disappeared to the other day.”
“And came back with a mysteriously wet jersey,” Tanner added.
Dex glared at his friend. “The tap over sprayed.”
Everyone laughed. “ Something over sprayed,” Linc said. “It’s usually what happens when you live like a monk. Massive sperm pressure, man, I’m telling you, it’ll kill you.”
“And what would you know about MSP, Linc?” Donovan quipped.
“It’s platonic, ” Dex growled, wanting to put an end to the conversation for once and for all.
“Sure it is.” Tanner grinned. “If platonic means ripping one off with Chuckie’s sister in a hospital full of sick kids.”
Dex flipped him the bird. “Bite me.”
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Donovan mused.
Linc
Similar Books
