The Best of All (The Best Men) by Karla Sorensen

Author:Karla Sorensen [Sorensen, Karla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake
Published: 2024-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

LIAM

Let it be known that I had the patience of a fucking saint.

Either that or I was the worst kind of simpering fool for this woman. I could’ve ignored the questions. But I didn’t.

“Would you rather speak any language in the world or have the ability to communicate with animals?”

“Honestly, Valentine.”

“What? It’s a hard question.”

I took a moment to think. I sighed. “Animals. Because then I could bribe spiders to stay away from me for the rest of my fucking life, and I’d never have to see them again.”

She smiled, and it made my chest go all soft. “Hates spiders. Noted.”

That was a good one, and I barely stopped myself from asking her how she’d answer, but somehow I managed.

The next day, it was like she wasn’t even trying.

“Favorite place to shop?”

“The grocery store.”

She sighed dramatically. “That doesn’t count.”

“Does to me.”

Zoe set her chin in her hand and stared, finally rolling her eyes when I didn’t change my answer. “The bookstore,” she said. “The one in Lone Tree. They have the best romance section.”

I grunted as I flipped through the mail, but I found myself wanting to tuck each little nugget away for safekeeping. Things I hadn’t known about her before.

I liked it when she answered on her own.

She’d set aside the envelopes with my name on them, and I paused when I found a heavy one addressed to me but stamped with the logo from Chris’s alma mater. He’d gone to the University of Michigan, and I’d come from their bitter rival, Ohio State, so I took a moment to growl at the sight of the blocky M in the return address. Zoe angled her head when I ripped at the back. “What’s that?”

“An envelope.”

She sighed heavily, and it brought me an unholy amount of joy. “What’s in the envelope?” she clarified.

Skimming the invitation, I didn’t answer right away, and she tried to edge around me to look. I moved the letter so she couldn’t see it. She narrowed her eyes in a glare, and I fought the urge to smile.

“They’re doing something for Chris and Amie,” I said as I continued reading. “First home game of the season. They’d like us to come with Mira.”

She nodded. “Do you think we should go?”

“I hate that fucking stadium,” I told her. “But yeah. I might call Burke, see how the house is coming along. He was probably invited too.”

“Why do you hate it so much?”

“You want a list?” I laughed, short and dry and devoid of humor. “It’s ugly, and it’s too big, and there’s way too much blue and fucking yellow.”

“Ahh.” Her eyes were wide and serious. “It sounds . . . awful.”

“Don’t you make fun of me; you have no idea what it’s like to play in that place.”

It was the first place where I’d played against Chris, and we’d split during our years in college. He won two, I won two—something we’d never let each other forget in all our years playing pro ball together in Denver.

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