Page 33 of Worth the Shot

“She’s right,” I say softly. “No one should be alone at Christmas.”

Especially not him.

“O’Malley’s anyone?” Wes cuts through the moment, looking around, waiting for someone to bite.

“I’m down.” Miles nods.

“I’m gonna head home with the fam, but you guys enjoy.” Shayne looks at Emma, ready to grab Luca from her, when Mom cuts in.

“I don’t have anything going on tomorrow morning, why don’t I take Luca back home and you two go and have a little fun?”

“I could use a night out.” Emma smirks at Shayne and he caves that easily.

Brennan looks at me, like he’s waiting to see what I do before he makes a decision. I look at Jo, who’s practically salivating at the mouth. “Okay,” I breathe out, “fine, yeah. One drink.”

I pull off my jersey, deciding to stick with the long-sleeved T-shirt underneath, and toss it into the back of Emma’s car. Then Jo and I hop into Brennan’s truck, and I end up in the passenger seat. I try to ignore the way pine and cedar roll off him, fresh from his post-game shower, somehow making clean offensively appealing.

I steal a glance at him, admiring how perfect his side profile is. Strong jaw softened by that in-between stage of beard and stubble, a straight nose, and cheekbones that catch the lights of the dashboard just enough to make everything feel a little more intimate. There’s something quietly steady about him—like he doesn’t need to demand attention to hold it.

His lips are slightly parted, and there’s this calm focus in his expression that makes me wonder what he’s thinking…or if maybe, just maybe, he’s thinking about me. I try not to think about the way the shape of his mouth lingers on my mind.

“You want me to pretend you’re not staring?” he says softly, still focused on the road as a grin spreads across his face.

I turn away so fast I risk whiplash. “Yup. Please. That’d be great.”

“Got it.” He snickers. “Same way you’re never flirting, right?”

“Exactly,” I say, adjusting myself and committing to spending the rest of the ride looking at literally anything but him.

We pull into the bar parking lot, and it’s busy enough that we have to circle before finding a spot. Brennan hops out and heads straight for my door. Then, because apparently he was raised correctly, he reaches back to open Jo’s too.

He holds out his hand, and for a second, I’m not sure what to do with it, but I bravely take it anyway, letting him help me down from his truck.

The second our hands touch there’s a jolt of electricity that zaps through me, the blood in my veins suddenly feeling hot. His gaze lingers on mine, then down to our hands where we’re still touching. I pull away slowly, trying not to be too abrupt about it, but the second our contact breaks it feels like someone turned up the cold. I shiver, and he notices, pulling his jacket off and putting it over my shoulders while we make our way inside.

The place is electric and the sound of the music vibrates through me as soon as the door opens. Corey is slinging drinks like he’s got six arms, as usual, and the second we walk in he throws one up.

“Ay!” he yells over the noise.

We make our way through the crowd and Brennan orders a beer for him and an Old Fashioned for me, but Corey already has both in progress before he can finish. He hands them over, winking at me, and continues being the badass bartender he is. I shrug off Brennan’s jacket and he takes it, like some kind of unspoken connection between our brains that’s suddenly become a thing.

“I’m really glad you came to the game tonight,” Brennan says over the music, smiling, as he tucks the jacket onto the table Wes and Miles are standing at.

I flip my hair over my shoulder, smirk spreading across my face. “It really was no problem,” I tease, “had nothing better to do anyway.”

“Right.” He snickers, but the way his eyes study me tells me he sees right through me. Before he can say anything else, Jo grabs my hand.

“DELANEY. OUR SONG,” she yanks me toward the makeshift dance floor of the bar, “LET’S GO!”

I down a big gulp of my drink, immediately regretting it when my head spins just slightly. Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift blasts through the speakers—some club-ish remix that instantly has us buzzing.

I throw my arms in the air and sing at the top of my lungs, completely letting loose for the first time in what feels like ages. Suddenly, I don’t care who’s watching. I spin my best friend around the dance floor like it’s just the two of us, laughing when she stumbles into me.

Emma jumps in, and just like that, my world feels full—complete and carefree in a way I haven’t felt in forever. I want to bottle this moment, live in it a little longer. My girls. For life.

I glance over, just briefly, and catch Brennan watching. Normally, I’d care. Maybe I’d even pull myself together a little, smooth down the edges so he doesn’t see this version of me, the one that sneaks out when I’m buzzed and reckless, acting like a fourteen-year-old dancing around her room to a Hannah Montana song.

But instead…I don’t.