Page 56 of The Trouble with Players

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Your hair’s not pink,” the little leaguer from the last game said as he stopped in front of me on the host family hill.

“Then how in the world did you recognize me?” I asked him.

“Crew told me it was you,” he said.

“Did he threaten to hit me another home run?”

He smiled.

“He did, didn’t he?”

He nodded. “He said this time he’s goin’ yard.”

“And, you believe he’ll do it?” I asked.

“Crew’s the best player on the Sharks. Of course he’ll do it.”

“He likes her,” Gina interrupted.

“Gross,” the kid said before taking off to find his seat.

“So?” Gina prompted.

“So, what?”

“So, why’d you ask me to come to the game?”

I shrugged.

“Peyton,” she probed.

“Fine. I took your advice,” I said as my eyes latched onto Crew at shortstop. I wished I wasn’t visualizing him naked when he looked so damn hot in his uniform.

“Which advice?” Gina asked. “I tend to give a lot of it.”

“The part about getting it out of our systems.”

She screeched.

I reached over and cupped her mouth with my hand since people around us had turned to look. “I’m gonna need you to calm down.”

She nodded.

I slowly removed my hand.

“I can’t freakin’ believe it,” she whispered. “How was it? Amazing? I’m sure it was amazing. Look at the guy. He’s like a freaking underwear model.”

I pursed my lips. “It was pretty amazing.”

“I knew it.”

I laughed.

“Are you gonna do it again?”

I nodded.

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