Taters walks over to him and takes his phone in his hand. “You have the team photo on your phone?”
Holmes doesn’t say anything. Instead, he goes back to his book.
Hornsby snags the phone and shows it to the girl, who examines the photo intently. Smirking, she asks, “Why aren’t you all smiling? It’s a team photo, after all.”
“Athletes aren’t supposed to smile in photos,” Taters says. “We’re supposed to be intimidating.”
“Oh, was that the look you were going for? You look more constipated than anything.”
We all bust out in laughter as Taters snatches the phone from her. “You realize this is my house you’re trying to gain access to, right? Referring to me as constipated isn’t going to grant you access, but rather punch your ticket out of here.”
“Settle the fuck down,” Hornsby says. “Come on, at least dry off for a bit. We have Cheez-Its and bologna sandwiches and plenty of beer. Maybe we can find some cell service while waiting it out.”
She still seems suspicious but instead of backing away this time, she steps into the entryway.
“Let me take that for you,” Hornsby says as he reaches for her backpack.
She sheds her backpack and then takes off her raincoat as well, revealing an hourglass figure in a pair of black leggings and a tight red top that shows off her cleavage.
Damn.
I think I know what’s going through every guy’s mind in this house—besides Holmes, who hasn’t lifted his head from his book—this girl is hot.
But the question is, are they having déjà vu thoughts like I am? Because I swear I’ve seen her face before.