“He still isn’t very social,” Matt commented after a moment.
“But he’s let us in, and he’s not antisocial. There’s a difference,” Trey said firmly.
“Can I bring a few of the rooks?”
They all groaned, but Michael crossed his arms and stared at them in silence.
“Fine,” Stephen finally said, tossing his hands up. “Fine. Fuck it, whatever. Bring the babies, let them ruin a good time.”
“Hardly,” Michael said dryly.
“But ask them to come later. I want a little time with just you guys first.”
Michael nodded and got his phone out to text Kat.
Dinner out tonight with teammates, okay?
Yeah, sure thing. Have fun.
He smiled at that. No exclamation points? No emojis? She was annoyed.
Sorry, I meant we, together, are invited to have dinner with some teammates. Is that okay?
Oh.
He waited, watched the “typing” bubble pop up, then disappear. Then appear again.
Sure.
That made him chuckle as he tossed his phone back in his locker. She wanted to appear above needing social interaction, but she was the most social creature he’d ever met. She craved the human contact.
Which made her insistence on staying a singles player laughable, as far as he understood the game. Which was to say… not very well.
“What should we bring?” he asked Stephen as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“Beer.”
Trey looked over at Michael before glancing back at Stephen. They both quietly watched their friend and recovering alcoholic carefully.
He waited a beat, then cracked a smile. “Kidding, guys. I’m good. Seriously. No worries. It was a joke.”
“Asshole,” Trey muttered, punching at Stephen’s arm, but he was smiling.
“Get Josiah and Anya,” Michael suggested. “If they can come.”
“Anya’s gone.” Trey shrugged. “Cassie talks. Anya’s meeting up with someone in Phoenix, seeing if someone wants to set up a Chance to Dance branch in their area.”
Chance to Dance was Anya’s baby, her pet project, her true love… other than Josiah, obviously. She took donated formal gowns to local high schools and gave girls who otherwise would never be able to afford the outfits the chance to, well… dance.
“Well, she’s gone for a good reason then. Josiah can come hang with us and forget missing her for a few hours, because he’s an emotional wreck without her.”
“I heard that,” Josiah said from across the locker room.
“Good.” Michael grinned at Trey. Things felt like they were lining up… which was odd since before Kat showed up he’d never felt like anything was out of order. But the minute she’d walked into his life, things had suddenly felt unsettled.
As that was her fault, Michael considered it a bit of payback that she’d be the one to settle them again.
Kat stared at her meager wardrobe and debated what to wear to a Bobcat’s house.
Well, another Bobcat. She’d been over to Michael’s place often enough and hadn’t given a crap about what she wore. If she wore anything at all.
That brought a small smile to her lips, and she flipped through the five decent nongym-appropriate outfits she’d brought with her. One of which she’d already worn to the attorney’s office the week before with Michael.
That was a good meeting.
Ugh! Stupid smile.
Fighting for calm, she took down jeans and a simple short-sleeved polo. Casual yet not slobby. Then she heard a knock on the door. Michael was nearly thirty minutes early. Well, he’d just have to wait, she decided, and put on the outfit. She stopped to quickly fix her hair back into a low, stylized ponytail, slipped on a pair of flats, and grabbed her keys.
And opened the door to… not Michael.
The black man with shoulder-length dreads and a sleeve tattoo down his right arm gave her a brilliant smile. “Hi there.”
“Hey.” He looked familiar… probably from the first day she’d moved in. He must have been in the crowd of men she’d briefly met downstairs.
He waited a beat. “You know who I am, right?”
She looked around him, then down the hall. “Did you knock on the wrong door?”
“Not if you’re Kat.”
Yup. A Bobcat. Had to be. How could she have doubted for a second? The sheer size of him, the confident way he stood, the assumption she would recognize him.
Sorry to burst your bubble, bud.
“I’m Kat, but I have no clue who you are.” She quickly pulled her phone out and checked for any new texts from Michael, warning her of this new development. Nada.
“I’m Matt Peterson. On the D-line with Stephen. Stephen Harrison,” he added for clarification. Which was funny because that clarified exactly nothing for her. “Also a teammate.”
“Right.” She waited a beat. “Michael lives next door if you wanted him.”
Matt leaned against the wall beside her door and gave her a grin that she was sure dropped panties everywhere. For her, it was just a pleasant smile. “I can see why he’s cracked over you.”