“Bupkus,” Avery added with a sad wag of her head.
Kate sighed. “Shut down.”
“Yeah,” Millie and Avery said on the same breathy sigh.
“So sad, to have the sex shut off like a spigot,” Avery said morosely.
Touched and more than a little suspicious of the depth of her friend’s empathy, Millie eyed Avery closely before stating the obvious. “You’re drunk.”
Avery’s unpainted lips ticked up in a wry smile. “A little.” She swirled the whiskey in her glass. “This stuff is strong.”
Kate removed the glass from Avery’s clutches and set the highball on the far side of the table. “Now you know why the big boys all call it firewater.”
As if to controvert the accusation of impeding inebriation, Avery straightened her spine. “I’m sorry you were clit-blocked on the phone sex, Mil.”
Kate opened her mouth to say something, but Millie held up a hand to stop her. Millie appreciated the sentiment. “Thanks, Ave.”
“Clit-blocked,” Kate muttered under her breath as she lifted her beer.
Unable and unwilling to dance around the topic anymore and desperate for the reassurance only her closest friends could offer, Millie blurted her biggest fear. “But what if he didn’t want to because I was bad?”
The question seemed to jolt Avery from her stupor. “Bad? What do you mean bad? Like God is going to strike you down, bad?”
“No, bad as in I sucked at phone sex,” Millie corrected.
Kate was quick to shake her head. “I highly doubt you were bad.”
“How do you know? You and I have never had regular sex, much less phone sex.”
“And we’re going to keep that little bonding activity in the never column,” Kate said firmly. “But come on. I can’t even imagine how bad a woman would have to be for a guy, any guy, to be all, ‘No, that’s okay, don’t talk dirty to me,’ you know?”
“Men are not verbal,” Avery added, nodding sagely.
“Right, I know, but come on.” Millie practically wailed the last part. “We go from ‘I’ve thought about you for years’ to ‘I want you so bad, I can’t take it anymore’ to ‘We’re never doing this again’ in, like, a split second.”
“God, I must be drunk,” Avery said, her eyes fixed on a point beyond Millie’s shoulder.
Desperate for input, insight, a little female compassion, Millie cast a baleful look at Kate. “Hell, I was still basking in the self-induced afterglow and the sonuvabitch was deleting my phone number. Can I really be that bad at phone sex?”
But Kate didn’t seem to have the words to give her the reassurance she needed. As a matter of fact, her attention appeared to be locked on whatever Avery had been staring at across the bar. Peeved, Millie twisted on her seat, anger rising inside of her as she sought out what could possibly have snagged their interest.
And there stood Ty. Live. In person. Gorgeous as ever and standing not two feet away from her, clearly surprised by her outburst.
He cleared his throat, then nodded greetings to Avery and Kate before taking the single step to close the distance between them. “The answer to your question would be a resounding no.”
“Hi.” The word came out in a mortifyingly girlish whisper, but she had no way to take it back and reissue the greeting in a more controlled tone.
“Hello.” As if to punctuate the greeting, he dropped a bundle of papers creased in a loose trifold onto the table.
Ears burning, she spared the papers a sidelong glance. “What are those?”
“My divorce papers.”
She looked up at him. “Why are you here?”
“Danny said there was a meeting of the minds at Calhoun’s this evening, and he wasn’t sure when you’d be done. I couldn’t wait any longer.” He held out his hand palm up. “I’ve come to take you home.”
“Oh, Firth me, he’s good,” Avery whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” Kate jabbed an elbow straight into Millie’s ribs. “See you later, Mil. Nice to have you home, Ty.”
“Ladies.” Ty inclined his head slightly, then lifted his brow as he darted a meaningful glance at his proffered hand. “Ms. Jensen?”
Millie stared down at his hand, fascinated by the map of dark creases webbing his palm. She’d been to a bridal shower one time where the bride insisted they all have their palms read. She’d thought palmistry was a bunch of hooey then, but now she wished she’d paid more attention. Life, heart, and head lines. She knew that was what they called them, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember which was which. May have been something about fate too, but Millie didn’t put a lot of stock in destiny. People make their own luck, either by seizing opportunity or by chasing after their goals. Ty’s fingers twitched, then started to curl in, a clear signal her chance was slipping away.
Sliding her fingers into his broad, strong palm, she slid from the stool. She covered her wobbly knees by stooping to scoop her leather tote from the floor, then swept the bundle of legal papers into the bag. “Been a treat, girls, but Coach Ransom and I have a few things to talk about.”
She kissed them each on the cheek, closing her eyes in silent appreciation when Avery gave her arm a gentle squeeze to buck her up. “Make him grovel. At least a little,” Avery whispered in her ear.
Millie laughed and cast Ty a pointed look as she followed him toward the door. “Oh, I plan to make him grovel…a lot.”
Chapter 8
They exchanged no greetings. No “Hey, how’s it going?” No air kiss. Not even a nice professional handshake. With her hand tucked firmly in his warm, strong grasp, they came close on the last one. But she felt nothing businesslike in the way he wove his fingers through hers and held on. She followed him through the murky bar. The crowd had thickened in the time since she’d camped out at their regular table. When they didn’t have serious
