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“What?” I meet his stare.

“Nothing.” One corner of his mouth twitches before he looks back at his drink.

Two women stop beside our table on their way back from the bar.

“Sorry,” the brunette says, phone already in her hand. “Could we get a picture?”

Beckett moves to stand, and she says, “Actually, I mean him.” And points at me. “You’re twenty-two for Chicago, right?”

“I sure am.” I fight back a laugh when I see Beckett’s scowl.

“Great game tonight.”

“Thanks.” I stand, and she slips in beside me while her friend takes the picture. When she pulls away, she presses a folded cocktail napkin into my hand.

“In case you guys need company later.”

I give her an easy smile and tuck it into my pocket. “Have a good night.”

Beckett waits until they’re halfway across the bar, then shakes his head.

“Can’t take you anywhere.”

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you. Good thing your jersey is navy and not green.”

“I’m devastated.” He deadpans, lifting his glass. He takes a drink, watching as I pull the napkin back out, crumple it in my fist, and drop it beside my glass. “Why’d you take it if you’re just gonna throw it away?”

“Because she took her shot. No reason to make her feel like shit for it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll feel much better when you never call.”

“She’ll survive.”

Beckett snorts. “Well, at least somebody around here knows how to take a shot.”

“Speaking of taking shots? How’s Cassie? Her daddy hasn’t shot you yet?”

His expression hardens instantly. “Callie.”

“That’s what I said.” I take another drink, hiding my grin behind the glass.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Carly?”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, now I’ve struck a nerve.

I grin. “How is she?”

“Fine, I guess.” He looks down at his drink before finishing it. “We don’t really talk.”

Interesting.

I lean forward, ready to dig into that particular load of bullshit, but before I can push, Beckett climbs out of the booth. “I need to take a piss before I head out.”

“Thanks for the update.”