Scored(8)

Finley grabs her phone from her purse. “The two of you should take it on the road.”

I swing my gaze to my sister. “No one invited you.”

“I invited her,” Layton pipes up.

I shoot her a death glare. How can she do this to me? I can’t talk freely about Dallas with Finley at the table. No telling how she would react. Okay, so I have an inkling of how she would react. She’d freak out and call a meeting, then make Dallas’ life miserable for daring to hit on her baby sister.

It’s how “normal” siblings react to their other siblings’ dating lives.

“That’s awesome.” I smile widely at Finley. “So what’s up with you?”

Finley arches a brow at me, her lips pursing. She knows my smile isn’t genuine. Don’t get me wrong; I love my sister. She’s been more of a mom to me than our own mother. Bless her heart. However, there are times when a girl needs her best friend, and this is one of them.

Layton and I are roommates, but the closer it gets to the wedding, the more she has to go home after work and on weekends, as well as meet with the wedding planner, which means we have little-to-no time to talk privately.

“The usual. Putting out fires and dreaming up new ways for the Renegades to stay in the news, in positive ways.” Finley sits back in her chair. “They don’t always make it easy on me.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Layton says, tsking sympathetically. “Tell me who the worst offender is, sugar, and I’ll give him a stern talking to, maybe even have him come by the library and do some grunt volunteer work.”

I sit up straighter. Layton is attempting to work her magic to get Finley to talk about specific players.

The server swoops by to deliver Finley’s drink and lunch. Impatiently, I wait for him to leave, so my sister will start talking.

“The cleaning crew has a really tough time reaching the windows in the event space. And we could always use some volunteer gardening. Winter’s coming, after all, and those beds need more pine straw.” Layton winks at me, and I cross my fingers under the table.

Take the bait, Finley. Take the bait.

“It’s a tie between Drake and McHugh. Although Hernandez is a not-so-distant second,” my sister replies.

My heart sinks. Dallas Drake is a player. Ugh. That rumor with him and the three strippers is true.

“What’s so bad about Drake?” Layton asks.

Finley pauses, her fork hovering in midair. “He’s not a bad guy… just full of himself. Big ego. Likes to party and loves women. He is single, so maybe I can’t blame him.”

“Are you going soft?” I ask.

“No, he’s… actually, you know what…” Her nose scrunches. “Drake’s been really good lately.”

“By lately, do you mean for the past week?” I quip.

Finley laughs. “I mean for the past year. Don’t get me wrong. He still likes to party, but his drama is all but nonexistent. It’s probably because he’s focusing more on his charity.” She fixes her blue eyes on me. “Speaking of which, I told him to go by the library to check out your event space. He wants to hold one of his Nights to Play in Raleigh. Usually, he has them in Miami, New York City, and Los Angeles.”

I try to answer her, but nothing comes out.

“Oh, he came by. Nolan spoke with him,” Layton says, coming to my rescue. “I doubt he was much help with the way he was fanboying. I’m not sure Nolan even had the presence of mind to tell him to come back another time, so I can give him the tour.”

“Were you there?” Finley asks, and my skin gets all prickly. I can’t lie, but I don’t have to tell her everything.

“Yup. In handcuffs.”

“What?”

“I was filling in for Layton by hosting the toddler’s power hour. We had a magician with not-so-magic handcuffs.” I mime being confined. “Anyway, after it was over, Dallas and I spoke briefly, and then Nolan helped him.”

Finley’s mouth flattens. “I’ll talk to Drake and let him know he should come back.” Then she starts eating. “This so good.”

I stare at her in shock. She’s not going to grill me for details? Demand to know if Dallas asked me out? Unless she thinks there’s no way I’d let things get that far because of her lectures and warnings… or she knows I’m not his type.

Disgruntled, I start to ask if that’s the case, but Layton kicks me under the table. Sharp pain shoots up my leg.

“Ow.” I rub it.

“Sorry, sugar. My foot slipped.” Layton turns to Finley, sounding blasé. “You can give him my number and I’ll set up an appointment, first thing.”

“I’ll do that,” Finley says around a bite of mac and cheese. “It’s for a good cause. Give him all the assistance he needs if he picks your space. I prefer he confines his events to Raleigh instead of all over the country. Makes it easier to keep track of what he’s doing with his dolls.”

“His what?” I ask sharply.

Finley’s lip curls. “It’s what the press dubbed the women Dallas… sees. Drake’s Dolls. The Double Ds. So classy. If you only knew how much trouble I went through to get the first two pages of Google not to have that as a result, you would understand my frustration. Having the benefit locally will be a relief.”