Page 45 of Penalty Shot

His mouth back on the mic, the self-proclaimed emcee says the last thing I expect.

“Before you go, we’ve invited Miles Wallace of Luxe Voyage Travel Corporation to offer the winning certificate. They donated this amazing prize.”

Randall’s eyes sharpen to tight points and his fists clamp so hard, I can see the white of his knuckles. Miles moseys over slowly, looking harsh, his face mid-sneer. He’s making Randall wait. Anger and irritation churn in my gut.

When they’re toe to toe, both men square off with chests inflated. Miles is a little taller, but the muscular physique of Randall is evident under his perfectly tailored suit.

These are not two men about to exchange a piece of paper.

They are antagonists on the brink of a fight. The room intuits the unspoken challenge.

You could hear a pin drop and I. Cannot. Breathe.

This is my fault. By complaining to my friend, I put a sign over Miles’s head that announces, in caps lock, ENEMY. Every protective pore in Randall overwhelms his reasonableness. This is as close as I’ve ever seen him to hostile. The Disney prince has morphed into a fierce defender.

If I didn’t drag Randall into my stupid drama of avoiding Miles, this public event would have been pleasant for him. A niceway to cap an incredibly generous donation. A fifteen-thousand-dollar donation.

A fifteen-thousand-dollar donation!

Before I can get lost in the vortex of that astounding turn of events, Randall grabs the mic. Ignoring Miles, who has yet to shake his hand, the hockey player commands everyone’s attention.

“Although I’m pumped that my bid was enough for this exciting trip, it was never for me.”

His eyes find mine. Wait. No. He cannot seriously consider givingmethat trip. My head shakes back and forth in a jittery motion. Before panic fully takes over, Randall continues.

“Mrs. Geraldine Chen inspired me with her dedication to this charity,” Randall proclaims. “Plus, she feeds everyone who walks through her house. If someone deserves a vacation, it is this remarkable woman.”

A few chuckles waft over the room, along with a flurry ofohsandahs.

“Geraldine, where are you?” Randall asks jovially. “Come on up and claim your prize.”

My jaw slackens in surprise. Relief floods my system. My eyes prickle at the thought of Ma traveling again.

Well played, Randall Haughland. Well played.

He’s still looking at me, eyes gleaming with mischief. Ma is ushered up by friends. She’s both flustered and giddy, walking past Conrad like he’s a fly on the wall. She hugs Randall and effusively mimesthank you. Taking an envelope from Miles, she hugs him too and adds a consoling tap on his shoulder. It’s subtle, but I see her saysorry.

She should definitely be sorry for inviting my ex-boyfriend without warning me. But Ma doesn’t seem remotely apologetic. If I had to describe that expression, it would be pleased. Smug,even. Like she tried a new recipe and the result turned out better than expected.

With a demure smile, she accepts the mic from Randall. Graciously, she thanks him and ushers the crowd toward dinner.

When Randall jumps off the stage to stand by me, I don’t even think about it.

I link our hands and pull him out of the room.

Her fingers are small and cold, but they manage to fit nicely in my large, calloused paw. Elise walks in front of me as we follow the crowd, giving me a view of the curves I felt at the edges of my fingers while we danced.

My fingers were very well behaved, by the way. I should get a damn medal for not crushing her body to mine. Dancing with Elise was an exercise in restraint. I would do just about anything to be allowed to grab her ass one more time.

Friendswithout benefits.

Friendswithoutbenefits, dammit.

Friends without fucking benefits!

I engrain the mantra in my brain and keep my hands away from myfriend.Because we are Friends. Without. Benefits.

Put those words on my tombstone, because they will be the death of me.