Page 139 of Unleashed

“It’s okay, Amos. Thank you, anyway. I’ll help at night. It’s fine.”

He nods and leaves the dugout with a frown. I follow and see Rhonda brushing dirt off her pants. “You look splendid, girl. Don’t worry about it.”

She looks up at me as her hat slides down. “Thank you, but I’m a certified mess.”

“Join the club,” I mutter as I see my brother beckoning me with his index finger. I’m about to give him a middle finger.

“What, Wilderness?”

He removes his annoying sunglasses. “What the hell are you and Rodwell doing now? If I have to hear Betsy bitch to me one more time, I’ll quit. And I don’t want to see Rodwell fondling you.”

“I fondled him last time.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, Finnigan. I’ve already done sexual things to him. Relax, though. Greg and I are only having hot sex temporarily.” Damn it.

“Shut the fuck up, Simone. I don’t want to hear details.”

“My favorite is on top. Whoops.”

Finn ignores me as Greg leaves the batter’s box. I block his path and ask, “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing, Garrison,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

“Why are you calling me that again, Rod?”

“No reason.” He works the muscles in his jaw as he removes his batting gloves to avoid looking at me. I then gawk at the tendons and muscles in his arms as he moves.

On the bleachers, Tansy watches us, and on the field, everyone watches us. On impulse, I grab Greg’s face and lick his lips with three complete circuits. His breath hitches and then ceases. I move one hand to the back of his neck as I lick. His mustache tickles my upper lip, but I’m about to win this round until Greg licks my tongue.

I squeal and jump back. Ricky says, “Cut it out, Simone and Rodwell. Do that at home.”

Hell, no.

Finn says, “Rodwell, come here.”

Greg runs the side of his finger over his lips and mutters, “Fucking wonderful.” But Finn also yells for Crick. I assume they’re talking about pitching strategy and not tongue technique. Greg has no problems with either.

I go to the dugout to get some water. Sipping from a cup, I watch my brother demonstrate how to pitch. The look on Greg’s face is rabid. Why doesn’t he tell Finn the truth about his baseball past? It’s not for me to tell Finn, who failed at excelling in baseball, while Greg was a reluctant ace.

“How much longer are you and Greg a thing?”

I turn to see Trashy standing behind the chain link of the dugout. I clear my throat as I almost inhale my water down the wrong pipe. “Um, this weekend. Why?” Maybe a tiny exaggeration.

She laughs, and silver flashes in her mouth. Either she has a tongue piercing, or she munches metal. “I was just wondering when I get my boyfriend all to myself. That kiss was a little too real for me.” Fuck off.

I shake my head with a fake smile while inside, I’m dying. “Kiss? I was just messing with him. And boyfriend? Oh. He didn’t mention that.”

Trashy nods with a stupid grin. “We’re working on it. He probably doesn’t want to mention it to you yet.” She pushes blue hair out of her face as the wind blows. Too bad it’s not hurricane strength.

My hand trembles, so I set down the cup. “I’m not trying to steal him from you.” I had him once, and that didn’t work out.

“Things have been neutral with Greg because he doesn’t want you to get mad at him for having his own life while he helps you with your dad.”

A bitter chuckle escapes me, a mix of irony and disappointment. “Greg can do whatever the hell he wants. He doesn’t have to hide shit from me. We’re only friends.” Hardly.

“I’ll accept that you’re his work wife. It’s a relief your marriage isn’t real. I’d be worried if he had a real ex-wife and kids.” He did, twat. I was pregnant with your boyfriend’s baby, but he doesn’t have the balls to tell you.

---