Page 60 of Renegade Rift
“Of course it does.”
“I mean.” Paige clicks back to his profile and the image of Ford once again fills my screen. “He does meetallyour requirements. And you guys are friends, right?”
I throw a hand up. “I’m going to stop you right there. It doesn’t matter how perfect the app thinks we are, it’s wrong.”
She shrugs, a knowing smile tipping her lips. “I’m just saying, there are worse guys out there for a first match.”
She’s not wrong. I was married to one of them.
“He’s not an option.”
And that’s final. We’re friends. Family. That’s what he said. Family doesn’t date family.
“Understood.” She swipes his photo to the left and another populates.
“How do you feel about musicians?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
FORD
There’s exhausted, and there’s been-on-the-road-for-ten-days exhausted. The first sucks. The second leaves you in a constant state ofwhere am Iandwhat day is itdelusions, making it impossible to keep anything straight except the game you were made to play. The come down from that is brutal. But unlike every other time I’ve come home from a grueling road trip to an empty apartment and an even emptier fridge, this time I have something to look forward to.
Thankfully it’s only mid afternoon when we get back to the Row. I’ve never been more grateful that the new people in management understood the assignment and secured us a whole travel day. Usually, we’d be forced to travel all night coast to coast followed by an early afternoon game the next day.
This way we can relax and ease back into this time zone. More importantly, I can take Juliet to dinner, surprise the shit out of her, then be in bed at a reasonable hour like the old man I am.
Smitty offers me a noncommittal grunt of goodbye as he slides into the apartment across from mine. The rookie has surprised the hell out of me with his dedication to this team. Of course, he feels like he owes it to them for taking a chance on him and calling him up from the minors, but more than that I can see that he really wants to make this team home. He’s got the makings of a career here, following in Bishop’s footsteps. If he continues doing what he’s doing, he’ll make a great leader.
I glance down at my cell, checking to confirm I’ve got a table for tonight. Soph’s text fills the screen.
SOPHIA: You’re lucky I love you and really want to meet Etta. I’ve got you down for a table in the back.
Perfect. I fire off a quick thanks to my only friend in New York outside the Renegades before opening the door to my apartment.
There is a record playing—Bowie, I think—and a woman with an entire head of red curls sitting on my couch with Lodhi in her lap, scrolling on her phone.
In any other instance I’d be panicked to find a random woman in my apartment, but the fact the demon spawn isn’t hissing is a good sign that he knows this woman.
I drop my stuff in the entryway, catching her attention.
She raises a skeptical brow. “You’re not Juliet.”
“No, I’m not.” I wait for her to explain who she is and what the hell she’s doing here, but again she doesn’t offer either. “And you are?”
“Paige.”
Juliet’s best friend. Well, at least that confirms she’s not a crazy cleat chaser, wanting to explain why she’s my future wife. “Juliet said you wanted to meet me, but I wasn’t expecting to be ambushed.”
Paige tips her head back, her curls shaking as she lets out a guttural laugh. “Oh, believe me this isn’t an ambush. Juliet wanted to be here when you got home.”
“And she’s not because…”
“Her date ran late.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “Her what?”
I didn’t hear her right. I know she didn’t just say Juliet is on a date. That’s something she would have told me. Right? Maybe I’ve misread how close we’ve gotten over the past few weeks. I mean, I know Juliet wanted to move forward with her life, but dating is a big step. Especially after everything she’s been through. What if she’s not ready. Fuck. What if she is? Who the hell am I to stop her?
