Miles gave Trimble the once over, wondering if she had learned anything during her time in Paris. The women of her team were some of the most sophisticated players he'd ever met (and some of the randiest---), so it was no wonder that this one had made her way back to the United Kingdom. Miles was feeling the urge to head back to France as it seemed that no matter what the Pride did, they would find themselves knocked out of the playoffs and right back to where they started. At least on the Bombers, he was a champion. At least on the Bombers, he was respected and not ignored at public events by the woman he was tending to and---
Bloody Arista had been swept away by Wadcock again, so Miles could not keep his anger towards one Mrs. Catriona McCormack. She had shown up to the event with that ridiculous musician husband of hers, and had dared to come up to he and Arista with the fakest of smiles, introducing Mr. Duke. She had not even taken the bastard's last name, and she was taking him to public events like this? In front of him?
He had needed to find a distraction before he lost his mind. Catriona was his and----Miles straightened, blinking a few times at Trimble before letting out a breath. "I am sorry to have startled you."
Miles forced a smile before looking back out at the crowd. Catriona was dancing with that miserable man, and he turned back to Trimble. She was pretty, well, enough so to cause that minx of his to notice him dancing with her. "You must remember the time we played against each other in the Paris Cup, no? Dance with me and I will remind you if you do not."
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
