Page 24 of Offensive Plays

"Well, you can't eat it, Lib?"

I turn to one of the waiters, "Excuse me. Would you please have the chef prepare a salmon dish without nuts?"

The waiter nods, "Of course, sir. My apologies, I'll just take that for you."

"Oh, not for me." I motion toward Libby.

Her eyes go wide, and the waiter reaches for her plate. "My apologies, ma'am. We'll get you a fresh dish in no time."

Libby stutters, “It's ok. I don't mean to be a bother."

"It's no bother at all. It'd be my pleasure," the waiter says.

Her cheeks are flushed, and I'm genuinely surprised. For such an outspoken woman, Libby doesn't seem like the type that would be afraid to send back food.

"Ok," she relents. Then looks back at me and mouths, "Thank you."

I give her a nod and push around the food on my plate, replaying my brother's words in my head.

"Enjoy my sloppy seconds, brother. I know that's what you're used to."

I hate that Jonah knows exactly what to say to get under my skin. Being the second-born son in a very traditional and conservative family meant that Jonah always got the shiny and new while I was stuck using everything after him.

When he decided that he needed to break away from life as a pastor's son, he was the long-awaited prodigal son my parents spent years praying for to return.

My teammates and their girls continue to chat around me but I'm too distracted with thoughts of my family to engage.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

And I smile, knowing exactly who it is.

Chapter 6

Libby

LeaveHerWild: Thinking of you.

strangerDanger23: Of me? Or parts of me?

LeaveHerWild: Let's just go with all of you, hmm?

strangerDanger23: What exactly are you thinking about that involves all of me?

LeaveHerWild: That would be very inappropriate to discuss right now.

strangerDanger23: Are you in a public place again, butterfly? We already know what you're capable of doing in public places.

LeaveHerWild: Stop making me blush.

strangerDanger23: I'm going to do so much more than just make you blush.

strangerDanger23: Send me a picture.

He wants a picture. The conversation around the table is casual. The excitement from the auction has died down, and now my brother and his teammates are making plans to hit up the local bar—the same bar I've agreed to meet stranger at in exactly...I check the time... forty-five minutes!

Shit. I lost track of time.

I panic and type out a response.