Page 16 of Wild Card

I took another swig of my beer, grateful for the cold drink on such a hot day. The sun hit us like a radiator—everybody but Carlin and the women were shirtless. By the way Trish was salivating over Coach, I had a hunch the lack of clothes was the real reason she joined the team.

I didn’t know much, but I knew a thirsty woman when I saw one.

Shelby elbowed me. “I heard you’ve got some sorta princess staying with you. A friend of Cass?”

“Ah, the duchess,” I answered, smiling.

Tate wore a crooked smile, running a hand through his damp, dark hair before putting his cap back on. “I heard Beau trampled her when she was changing and she ran out of your house naked.”

I gave him a look. “Where do y’all come up with this shit?”

He shrugged. “All the cashiers were talking about it at the grocery store. Janine almost knocked over a watermelon pyramid trying to listen in on Cass yesterday. I guess she came in for some fancy cheeses or something.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, but I have not seen her naked,” I clarified. Sadly.

“Yet,” Wilder added as he entered the dugout, slapping Tate’s hand when it was offered and hissing Ow! when his sister answered with a slap upside the head.

“Trust me—she’s not interested,” I insisted. “Pretty sure she hates me.”

Shelby’s gray eyes narrowed in thought. “Hate means you have a chance. It’s indifference you’ve gotta look out for.”

“I saw her yesterday,” Trish noted, tearing her eyes away from Coach’s glistening torso. “She’s so pretty and perfect, like a doll fresh out of its box. What’s she doing staying with you? I’ve seen your house. And the things that live there.” She shuddered.

“Aunt Julie was in charge of everyone’s boarding arrangements.”

A knowing ohhh hummed through them.

“Worked out for you,” Tate said.

“You gonna go for it?” Wilder asked.

I shrugged noncommittally and took a drink.

“If you don’t, I will,” Tate said.

A peal of laughter rolled out of me to cover a hot rush of dissent. “Please. You don’t stand a chance.”

“How about we bet on it?”

“How about you quit being an idiot before you get hit?”

A chorus of Ooooos sounded.

“Oh, grow up,” I said. “She’s too hot for the likes of us, least of all you, Tate.”

“Please tell me you’re not talking about my best friend,” Cass said from behind us.

In unison, we turned to find my cousin and the woman in question standing outside the dugout.

I barely saw Cass. Jessa on the other hand was unmissable, all sexy smile and glittering blue eyes, arms folded to frame her pretty tits.

Not missing a beat, I answered, “Why? I’m pretty sure she’d agree.”

Cass gave me a look. “About the hot thing or the part about being too good for all of you?”

“Both. Did you come to watch Coach tramp around without a shirt on like Trish?”

“Sir, I am a promised woman. Of course I did. I have a pulse.”

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