Page 27 of The Catch

"What show?"

"Of course, I only told him what I put together this morning." She leads me through a few offices. "I'm sure he'll tell you a-sap."

From memory, I know we're close to the locker room. Laughter reaches us alongside a few raised voices.

"Rumbunctious guys." Evie stops me right before we go into the large space. "Give me a second to announce our arrival."

I nod. It's not the first time I witness this.

"Please cover the goods!" She's loud enough to break through their noise. "I'm coming in and I bring company." In a lower voice, she adds a few words for me. "We want to preserve their mystique, right? Seeing them in all their naked glory seems like too much."

I shouldn't be surprised that the first thing I imagine is seeing Saint in all his naked glory. I've been living with him for a few weeks. It makes sense that warmth feathers through my body at the possibility. It's reasonable. Logical, really. Spending all this extra time with him, sharing the kitchen, hell, knowing what he looks like in his underwear. Of course my brain would be curious as to the little left unknown.

I'm about to fan myself with a hand when Logan appears from around the corner. Just like with Evie and most of the team, I haven't spent much time with him. He's a client and Saint's friend, and neither has given me a chance to get used to his severe frown.

The gesture doesn't change as his eyes zero in on Evie. She doesn't seem intimidated, so I refuse to let myself be.

Logan puts a hand around Evie's nape and brings her in for a short, but intense kiss. I smirk. I may not know him, but this seems on brand to what I would expect of him.

"Hello to you, too," Evie smiles.

I clear my throat. "Can I just have a handshake hello?"

Evie laughs. Logan doesn't say anything but smirks. After shaking my hand dramatically, he welcomes us to the locker room.

Soon, a few curious players approach us. I give Logan his smoothie, then put out a few trays. One of them holds sandwiches, the other is full of cookies.

"Please take your fill," I say. "If you like them, I offer catering and private chef services, including the smoothies you always see Logan and Saint drinking. I'm accepting clients at the moment."

It may not be enough to keep all my employees in the long term, but a few more small contracts with professional athletes would pay well. It may give me some breathing room. Logan, Saint, and some others on their team have been great, stable, well-paying customers.

"I may be interested." Leon comes closer, cookie in hand.

"Here, have my card, Leon," I say.

"Call me Bear." Leon winks.

"Can I have one, too?" Dom chews down a cookie of his own, and takes a card from me. "This is delicious, and Saint sings your praises."

"Speaking of." I take my roommate's smoothie from the carrier. "Where's Saint?"

"In the pool room," Dom replies. "Which, coincidentally, I have a question for you."

"Coincidentally?"

Dom shrugs, like making sense is only secondary to him. "You've known Saint for a long time, haven't you?"

I nod and he comes closer.

"I made a bet." He points to the big whiteboard hanging near the showers. "This is the year I learn who makes the Hypersquared."

I glance at it. A whiteboard with heavily decorated edges, bold and loud with colorful ribbons and patterned paper letters that readThe Seattle Strike Best of the Best Betting Board TeamdestroyerBuilder: The B-Hypercubed. A list of small bets is scribbled on the white surface, waging points to be counted at the end of the season. Whoever collects the most points, gets to take the crown and keep it for the offseason.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Every year," he says, "Saint comes in at the start of the season with this board. Gaudy as always. Never shares who made it."

I scratch my chin. "I have no idea, actually."