Scored(37)

“Put on your big-girl panties and woman up, Price.”

She gives me the stink eye. “I don’t want to give up pizza and alcohol.”

“Too bad. White is not forgiving on anyone.” Especially when said white dress has been perfectly tailored to contour her body shape. Change it up… and she was heading into dangerous territory.

“I don’t care.” She sticks out her lower lip, pouting. “Joe and I want to elope, but our parents said no. Joe’s too scared of my dad to say yes.”

“Maybe he respects him.”

She rolls her eyes, then leans her head on my shoulder. Her dark hair is so long that it reaches my thigh. “Joe’s a really good guy.”

“Yes, he is.” Joe’s always been a good guy. He always does the right thing, just like Layton, which is why they’re perfect together.

“I love him.”

“Joe loves you.”

“I love Joe, too.”

I glance down at her. “You are so drunk.”

“I don’t go to work until noon.”

Unfortunately, I go in bright and early at seven thirty. We open at eight, but I like to get there early so I’m prepared. “We close at four.”

“Whoo-hoo.” She tips her head back. “Now that you and Dallas are going steady, you don’t have to kiss the best man.”

“We’ve had three dates. That’s hardly serious.”

“He sent you his colors to wear. That’s almost exactly what Joe did in college when he had his fraternity sing to me.” She blows a piece of hair out of her eyes. “You’re a couple now.”

“If you say so.”

“I might have done a bad thing.”

No way. Layton never does bad things—even her bad things are good things in disguise. “What’s that?”

“I invited Aiden to the wedding.”

“That’s not a terrible thing. He’s best friends with your brother.”

“I know, but I invited Finley, too.” She rolls her head so it rests on the cushions instead of me, sounding less drunk and more sober with every minute. “Will Finley come if she knows? Should she know? I feel so awful, but Momma and Daddy insist it’s the right thing. Plus, I think they like the notoriety of a man with Aiden’s background at the wedding—even if he is a Yankee. Bless his heart.”

Layton’s parents take southern by the grace of God to a whole other level.

“I’m pretty sure Finley can handle whoever comes to your wedding. He is a client of her firm.” One that she doesn’t rep personally, but Finley’s always been the type to separate personal from business.

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I can handle another person getting on my damn nerves over this wedding.”

For Layton, getting on her damn nerves is subjective. It can mean anything from ‘I never want to see that person again because they have deeply offended me and my momma’ to ‘someone cut in line’. “Anything I can do?”

“Tell my momma to stop calling me every second of every day.”

“Done.” No way am I telling Mrs. Price to stop anything.

“And tell Joe to stop pressuring me. The closer we get to the wedding, the more he tries getting me into bed or on the couch, or even the dining room table.”

“Don’t you want him to be excited?”

“Not when he’s like a bull in heat. I have no idea why he’s insisting on sex now when he’s respected my decision to wait all these years.”

I don’t point out to her that it might be exactly the reason why. He can see the finish line and is very anxious to cross it. “Have you told him how you felt?”

“I don’t want to argue.”

“That would be a no.” I link our hands together, examining her ginormous diamond. I hate that she’s hurting and that she and Joe are having problems. They aren’t the type of couple to fight. They’re the couple to envy. The couple who has their life together and adults every day, no matter what. “Talk to him, honey. He can’t fix what he doesn’t know is wrong.”

“I will.” She sighs, then swings her gaze my way. “What about you?”

“I’m going to let you handle talking to Joe about your potential sex life.”

“Har-har. I meant what are you going to do about Dallas?”

I lift one of my shoulders. “I might be going to his house on Saturday night, after his game.”

“That sounds fun.”

“He asked me to wear one of the shirts he sent me.”

“You didn’t tell him that you gave all but one away, did you?”

“It would seem rather odd for me to be walking around wearing number seventy-eight’s jersey.”

“Or it could make you a fan.”

I cover her mouth with my hand. “Hush, you’re drunk.”

She licks my palm and I yank my hand away, disgusted. “Next time, I’ll bite.”

“There won’t be a next time.” I shake off my hand, like it’s a reasonable, scientific way to get rid of germs. “Ugh.”

“I think you give Finley too much control in your life. If anyone should know about controlling families, it would be me.”