Page 63 of Catching Feels

“Cool you know cars. My old man’s idea of teaching me anything about them was giving me the number to AAA when I got my first flat.”

“Mom taught us all how to change the oil, tires, jump a car, basic maintenance.”

“I taught myself to change a tire with a YouTube video after that.” I smirk. “He was so pissed.”

“I wish mine was pissed. He tried to find ways to monetize that shit.” He nods forward. “Glad she called and didn’t catch a ride with whoever that is.”

“Who the fuck is that?” I ask, leaning forward and seeing the license plate on a red Stingray as we pass by. “Master? That’s?—”

“Your backup catcher.” He drives past her and does a U-turn.

“Your backup catcher,” I toss back.

“Thought you were good with him?” He puts his truck in park.

“You good with that?” I ask, seeing Jillian smile and hand his phone back to him.

“Not one bit, but Mom’s riding our asses about giving her room to … breathe.”

“Hudson get that message?” I call after him as he opens the door.

“Jay V?” He chuckles. “Not her type. Google him.”

“You think Masters is?”

He narrows his eyes and shrugs. “I know where he works. One step out of line, my mission is to make his life hell.”

He gets out, and I sit here, shocked, stunned … pissed?

Get out and help, you idiot.

SportsManSam: He was flirting with you in front of Roman and lived through it.

And it pissed me the fuck off, almost as much as waiting ten minutes for a reply.

SportsManSam: You want me to be real? Fine. He and you fucking will mess with my game.

Still nothing.

SportsManSam: More real? I’m a guarantee *rainwater emoji* so the obvious choice for the “it’s sex, not love” project.

Nothing.

SportsManSam: I should have started with thank you for supporting my own research and sending me the HAF pic last night. Happy to return the favor.

What the fuck is wrong with …?

GoodTimesOnly: You’ve got two minutes to bring me my vibe or I’m blocking you again.

It takes less than one, and only because I had to bring Ellie with me.

When I get to the RV, she’s not in it.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to send her a message when I hear a whistle, and then Ellie tugs on her leash, heading toward the townhouses.

“You get me yelled at again, and this thing you and I have going on is over.”

“Did I type out the wrong message? I said vibe, not my fur niece.”

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