The Risk (Briar U #2)(17)

She’s wearing high-heeled leather boots, a short skirt, black leather jacket. Her chocolate-brown hair is loose around her shoulders, and her full lips are blood red.

Another dark-haired girl trails after her. Also pretty, but Brenna holds all my attention. Her dark eyes are on fire, and every molecule of heat is aimed directly at me.

“Connelly.” She reaches our table, baring her teeth in a mocking smile. “Boys. Fancy meeting you here. Mind if I join you?”

I pretend to be completely unfazed by her arrival. Inside, suspicion coils like a rattlesnake in my gut. “Sure thing.” I gesture to the sole empty chair. “Afraid there’s only one seat, though.”

“It’s okay, we won’t be staying long.” She addresses her friend. “Want to sit?”

“Nah.” The girl is clearly amused by all of this. Whatever this is. “I’m gonna call Lamar. Come grab me when you’re done.” She moseys over to the bar, phone already glued to her ear.

“It’s so hot in here,” Brenna remarks. “All the bodies crammed in this shoebox are generating some serious heat.” She unzips her jacket.

What she’s wearing underneath makes everyone’s eyeballs pop out of their sockets.

“Aw fuck,” I hear Coby mumble.

The crop top bares her flat, smooth belly, and it’s cut low enough to showcase some impressive cleavage. She’s also not wearing a bra, so I can see the outline of her nipples, two hard beads straining against the ribbed material. My cock stirs behind my zipper.

She appraises my teammates before focusing on me. “We need to have a chat, Connelly.”

“Do we?”

Her gaze sweeps over the table again. Each guy, even the lowly freshman Adam, receives a thorough examination. To my displeasure, the longest scrutiny is awarded to Coby, whose tongue has fallen to the Dime’s sticky floor.

“Have a seat already,” I say darkly.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Flicking up an eyebrow, she saunters to Coby and settles directly on his lap.

He makes a choked noise. Part surprise, part joy.

I narrow my eyes at her.

She smiles. “What’s wrong, Jakey? You told me to have a seat.”

“I think a chair would be more comfortable.” There’s an edge to my tone.

“Oh, but I’m super comfy right here.” She wraps a slender arm around Coby’s neck and rests her hand on his broad shoulder. He’s six-four and two hundred and forty pounds, making Brenna appear tiny in comparison.

I don’t miss the way his hand curls around her hip to keep her in place.

“Jensen,” I warn.

“Jensen! Hey!” Brooks, coming up for air, finally notices Brenna’s arrival. “When did you get here? Is Di Laurentis with ya?”

“No, Summer’s back in Hastings.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Shrugging, he resumes the game of tonsil-hockey he’s playing with our soon-to-be-unemployed waitress.

“So here’s the thing,” Brenna says. She might be in Coby’s lap, but she only has eyes for me. “You ordered Josh to break up with me.”

I raise my beer bottle and take a slow sip, contemplating what she said. “Break up, eh? I thought you weren’t dating.”

“We weren’t. But we had a good arrangement going. I liked him.”

It’s strangely frank of her. Most women probably wouldn’t enjoy admitting how much they liked the person who just dumped them. I experience a weird tug in my stomach at the notion that she might’ve actually been into McCarthy.

“I liked the way his hands felt on me,” she continues in a throaty voice, and suddenly every man at the table is eating up her every word. “I liked his lips…his fingers…”

A strangled cough comes from Adam the freshman. I silence him with a deadly glare. He gulps down some beer.

“I guess you’ll have to find other hands and lips and fingers to keep you occupied,” I tell her.

When Coby opens his mouth, I glare at him before he can volunteer his body parts. His mouth promptly slams.

“I told you, you don’t get to make decisions for me,” Brenna says coolly.

“I didn’t make any decisions for you. McCarthy made up his own mind.”

“I don’t believe that. And I don’t appreciate you interfering in my life.”

“I don’t appreciate you interfering with my players,” I retort.

My teammates’ heads swing back and forth from me to Brenna.

“Are we really going to have this argument again?” she asks in a bored tone. Her index finger trails down Coby’s arm.

His eyes glaze over.

Shit. Brenna is not only smoking hot, she’s also magnetic as hell. And her perfect ass is currently pressed up against the crotch of a hockey player who’s full of pent-up aggression and anticipation for tomorrow’s semifinals.

“Did you come here to yell at me, Hottie? Because that’s not going to bring poor, sweet McCarthy back.” I’m goading her. Mostly because it’s fun to see her dark eyes smolder with anger, like two hot coals burning in a fire pit.

“You’re right. I’m not going to get McCarthy back. So I guess it’s time to find a replacement.” Her fingertips reach the hand that Coby placed on her hip. She laces their fingers together, and I frown when I glimpse her thumb rubbing the inside of his palm.