Free Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1) by Josie Kerr Page B

some dessert at least. If you’re miserable, everybody’ll understand if you leave. I promise.”
    Charlotte nodded and got out of the car but stopped at Em’s exclamation.
    “What?”
    “You look so cute. As usual. I worry that you’ll ruin your outfit, though. We’re kind of rough and tumble around here lately.”
    Charlotte waived her off. “Everything’s washable or dry-cleanable. I’m not completely impractical. At least, not always.” She pointed down, waggling her perfectly white sneakered feet at Em. “See? Sneakers.”
    Em laughed and pulled on the backyard gate. “Yes, very practical.” She pulled harder, and Tig came tumbling through the gate to slam into Charlotte, knocking her to the ground, Tig on top of her.
    “Oh.”
    Tig grinned at her, staring at her mouth that formed a perfect cherry-red “O” and just begged to be kissed. He did not move from where he lay sprawled out on top of her until Charlotte cleared her throat and scowled at him.
    Barely resisting the temptation to kiss her on her cute nose, Tig rolled off, hopped up, and stuck out his hand to help her up.
    “Hey there, missy. We need to stop meeting like this,” he said, grinning down at her.
    “Yes, we do.” Charlotte put her hand in his, and he pulled her up, steadied her, and gave her arms a little squeeze for good measure.
    Charlotte huffed at him and straightened her blouse where it rucked up.
    Em blinked at the two of them. “You two know each other?”
    “We danced a bit at Rockabilly Night,” Charlotte sniffed.
    “Honey, you know we tore that damn floor up,” Tig growled, getting irritated.
    It was one thing that she had not called him. He could accept that she did not want to see him again or go out, maybe, but to deny that there was an intense chemistry between them on the dance floor? That was complete and utter bullshit.
    So many times during the previous days, Tig had considering asking for Charlotte’s number, but he stopped himself, deciding ultimately that it was either pushy, or desperate, or creepy, or possibly a combination of the three. Now, he thought he just might have dodged a bullet.
    But when she turned those violet— violet!— eyes on him, Tig thought he just might have seen a glimmer of heat before she tamped it down.
    Em blinked again and then clapped her hands together. “Oooo-kay. Um, Charlotte, would you like something to drink? Let’s get something to drink.” And she hustled Charlotte into the backyard, and Tig stomped along behind them.
     

“See? Not so bad, right?” Bailey grinned at Charlotte.
    Charlotte giggled. Giggling? Oh, girl, you’ve had too much to drink. She immediately stopped.
    Bailey scoffed. “Now you just need to stop that.”
    “Sorry,” Charlotte said with a sigh.
    “No, stop that . I like it when you’re . . . you.”
    Charlotte frowned in confusion. “I have no idea what you mean, Bailey. Boy, I think I have had too much to drink.”
    “You’ve been getting drinks from the non-spiked bowl; it’s just fruit juice and ginger ale.” Bailey was distracted by her huge bear of husband, all six foot eight, two hundred fifty pounds of him, turning a cartwheel. “Oh my Lord. Colin, be careful.”
    “You sure there wasn’t any booze in that?” Charlotte said with another giggle.
    Bailey shook her head. “I’m absolutely positive. Colin doesn’t drink, but he normally doesn’t eat a lot of sugar either. I think he’s on a sugar high.”
    When Colin executed a perfect standing backflip, and then flipped Tig off, Bailey rolled her eyes and said, “He is definitely on a sugar high. Colin, you’re cut off.”
    He looked insulted, grabbed a glass, and chugged the contents down.
    Bailey shook her head. “He’s as bad as Maude.”
    Bailey turned back to her friend. “Anyway, as I was saying, I like it when you let go, when you free yourself from Little Miss Perfect mode.”
    “‘Little Miss Perfect’? Is that what you think of me?” Charlotte, you