Jenner grabbed his beer and took a swig before nodding. “What did you have in mind?”
I smirked. “She’s not the only one who can send dirty texts.” My fingers were poised over my phone screen, but I was drawing a blank. “What should I say?”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Don’t look at me! How would I know?”
“I just assumed you had experience.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Coach, but video calls are where it’s at.”
I cringed. “Yeah, didn’t need that mental image.”
Jenner snapped his fingers. “Oh! You know who would be good at this?”
“Who?”
“Braxton!” he declared.
I was ready to tell him that was a terrible idea, considering Braxton was not a fan of Bristol and me being together, when the man himself spoke from behind us. “You two talking about me?”
Fuck me. This wasn’t going to end well. I ran my hands through my hair, mentally preparing for the backlash.
Jenner was oblivious to my distress, turning in his seat to face Braxton. “Yeah, we need help, seeing as you’re going to marry someone who writes sexy lines for a living.”
Braxton smirked. “If she says yes.”
“She’s going to say yes,” I grumbled.
“Anyway.” Jenner waved a hand. “Our coach here needs help coming up with a sexy comeback to a text he just received.”
One of Braxton’s dark eyebrows rose. “Okay . . . What are we dealing with here?”
I held my phone in a death grip, but Jenner pried my fingers loose, chiding, “Come on, don’t be shy.”
Glaring at my best friend, I threatened, “Just remember who’s in charge tomorrow on the ice.”
Freeing my phone, he replied, “Punish me all you want. We’re doing this.”
Jenner handed Braxton the phone, letting him read the message. He stared at the phone far too long for such a short text, and I began to sweat. The last thing I needed was for him to make a scene in the crowded bar.
Brows furrowed, he mused, “I’ve seen this before.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Braxton placed the phone on the table, pointing at the screen. “These words. There’s something familiar about them.”
Jenner and I stared at him expectantly, until finally, he gasped.
“What is it?”
With his whiskey-colored eyes trained on me, the lids narrowed dangerously. “Dakota wrote this.”
I held my hands up in a gesture of surrender, shaking my head. “Look, man. I want nothing to do with Dakota, I swear.”
Jenner grabbed the phone, reading over the words again. “Oh shit, he’s right!”
Did he seriously just throw me under the bus? I knew Bristol had sent the text, not Dakota. A misunderstanding of this level would be a disaster. A coach accused of fucking around with his players’ girls? If I was looking for a way to fuck up my new career, that was a surefire way to do it.
One glance at my look of sheer terror, and Jenner’s head dropped back as he laughed. When he recovered, he pointed in my direction. “You should see your face.” My chest rumbled in annoyance. “No one is saying you’re messing around with Dakota. When Braxton says she wrote this, she did—in one of her books.”
