Page 2 of Caught Looking

“Whoa, looks like you’re in need of some company while you’re in town.” The low, seductive voice draws my attention from the baggage carousel to a tall brunette. Her gaze rakes along my body, lingering on the tattoos sleeving my arms. Appreciation fills her eyes.

I bite back a sigh and transform the scowl shaping my mouth with my sexiest smirk that has worked in my favor since . . . well, since puberty. But if I’m honest, this whole seduction scene gets tiring. All I want to do is settle into my new home for the next three months and focus on my game. It’s been a long week staying at my former teammate’s house, followed by a turbulent airplane ride. After the fourth or fifth bump and dip, the lady next to me had to make quick use of the paper bag tucked in the seat pocket.

Yeah, that was awesome to watch.

And smell.

The brunette raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer. What was her question? Oh yeah, if I needed company. Far be it for me to be rude. In my confident—often misconstrued as being cocky—voice, I ask, “Are you volunteering?”

Lashes too long and thick to be real sweep up to meet my gaze, followed by her own confident smirk. “I can be.”

And that’s my cue to take whatever this chick is offering. Her body is like a wet dream with long tanned legs sporting miles of flawless skin and tits that are more than a handful, considering her tiny waist. I’m out of my mind not to go for it, but I don’t know. Even with a body most women would kill for, I’m just not interested.

I’m more fucked up in the head than I realized.

At my hesitation, she sweetens the deal by brushing that generous rack against my chest as she reaches across for her luggage. I remain stoic. If she knew how many girls make this type of move, she’d realize it’s not that unique.

Before I can abort this whole seduction scene she has going on, my suitcase comes into view. I waste no time grabbing and sitting it on the ground. She positions those tanned legs right in my eyesight. I hold back a chuckle.She’s a persistent thing. I give her that.

As I click the handle up and stand taller, I have no choice but to drag my gaze along that tight body. Miles of flawless skin lead me to a face angled by model-like precision. Her hazel eyes are dusted with too much eyeshadow for my liking, but her calculated look holds heat. The little temptress is gorgeous, no doubt.

Ah, screw it.I may as well partake while I’m in purgatory hell. Maybe this sentencing won’t be so bad after all?

As the idea resonates in my mind, uneasiness settles in my stomach. Having sex is the last thing I should focus on right now. But like the fuckup I am, I ignore the warning and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Jenni with anI.”

“Well, Jenni with anI, I’ll be playing for the Baytown Crushers. You should check out a game.”

“I think I will.” The corners of her lips curve upwards. “A baseball player, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Hasn’t the season already started?”

We exit the baggage claim, and my phone buzzes again. This time it’s Garret Cartel. I stayed at his parents’ house before coming here. “It has. I had to finish the College World Series first. The Crushers were on the road when we won, so I had a week’s downtime.”

“Oh, you must be good.”

“One could say that.”But apparently, I’m not good enough.Garret, Noah, and Braxton, the third teammate-slash-roommate, were lucky enough to get drafted. There may be some jealousy involved, but I certainly can’t be mad. They’re damn good players and deserve to have a shot. And it was a good thing too. Unlike me, who had just completed my junior year, they were all seniors. It was either that or the unthinkable plan B.

I have no plan B.

I shake off feeling sorry for myself and read Garret’s message.

Garret:Just talked to Mom. She said you should be arriving there any minute. Wanted to warn you to keep your head in the game. The Preacher isn’t as bad as they say.

Yeah, right.

I heard he doesn’t allow us to go out at night. But they also say the curfew is at nine o’clock, which contradicts the previous statement. One thing everyone seems to agree upon is how he runs the team. They say he acts like a drill sergeant, constantly barking orders as if we’re recruits at boot camp. Sorry, but I’ve already lived that life. Except the barracks was my house, and the sergeant was my asshole father. The last thing I want is a repeat of that scenario. Cue in why I stayed at Garret’s parents’ house for the time between the College World Series and arriving here. I haven’t been home since freshman year.

Before I respond to Garret’s text, a message from Braxton’s sister, Shannon Smith, dings through.

Shannon:Good luck. Let me know what your surroundings are like. You’re close to my hometown. I may be able to swing by for a visit when I come back.

The corners of my mouth lift despite my mood. A visit from a recognizable face would be great.

“Uh-oh. Girlfriend?” Jenni with anIguesses.

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