Page 51 of The Perfect Snipe

Something flickers across his face, a tightening of his jaw, and his lips press into a thin line. His eyes narrow slightly, darting away for a split second before coming back to meet mine, as if he's holding back an impulse he doesn't want to reveal. It's brief, so quick I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been watching closely.

But it’s there, that fleeting hint of unease. Not that he’d have anything to worry about—I haven’t gone out on a date since before I moved in, and I’m not looking to either.

I’ve got enough going on in my life. Plus, I’m comfortable with my current situation. Well, except for . . . “So, hotshot. What’syour plan for my pants now that you ripped them to shreds? We’re obviously not checking out anywhere else for the party, but you can’t expect me to walk into the house like this?”

He lifts me by the hips and I climb back over to the passenger side. “Have a pair of sweatpants in the back. We can say you fell in a puddle.”

“A puddle?” I laugh.

He shoots me a wild grin. ‘If I hadn’t have caught you back there it’d be the truth.”

“Ass.” I smack his chest, to which he laughs, then reaches back for the pants, even helping me put them on.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to this, and that’s what scares me the most. Good things never tend to last.

Chapter 21

Leo

I flop onto the hotel bed, my body aching from tonight's game. We pulled off the win, but fuck, it was a close one.

My eyes start to drift shut, the soft mattress swallowing me whole. But the quiet is short-lived. My phone buzzes and I grab it off the nightstand, a text from Cat flashing across the screen.

Cat:Kids are good. Mason says congrats on the win. Stella wants to know if you can bring her back one of those tiny shampoo bottles.

Me: Tell Stella I already know the drill, and tell Mason thanks. I’ll see you three when I get home tomorrow.

I inhale deeply, my fingers hovering over the phone screen as I reread my text, fixating on one word.

Home.

Going home isn't just about returning to my kids anymore. It's becoming about Cat too. About listening to her day, learning more about how the school system operates from her perspective. And also trying to help her figure out things with Rosa, even if it's just to sit there and listen to her vent.

I set the phone down, my hand trembling slightly as I scrub it over my face. My mind wanders to a few days ago, when we fucked in the car. It wasn't just sex. There was something more, something that scares the shit out of me.

Because I haven’t felt that way . . . well, since Wendy. The butterflies in my stomach, the way my heart races when Cat’s near—it reminds me of when I first started dating, fumbling and nervous but excited.

A sharp knock at the door cuts through my thoughts. Probably Wyatt, wanting to celebrate. I heave myself off the bed, muscles protesting. My joints creak as I stretch, feeling every one of my thirty-two years.

The door barely opens before Wyatt pushes through, his fist connecting with my jaw. Pain explodes across my face, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. I stumble back, more shocked than hurt. “What the fuck?”

“You slept with Cat? After I told you she was off-limits?”

My hands curl into fists at my sides and I square my shoulders, making every inch of my 6'5” frame count. “How the fuck did you find out?”

He looks at me like I've grown a second head, his nostrils flaring. “Are you serious right now? Nora is her best friend. Don't you think they talk?”

My stomach drops, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Shit. I was afraid of this.

“Cat should've kept our business to herself.” My teeth clench as the last syllable hangs in the air, and I instantly regret the words.

Wyatt's eyes narrow dangerously as he grabs my shirt, slamming me against the wall. “Don't you dare fuck with Cat’s and Nora's relationship. They're like sisters. And I will protect what's important to my wife, especially since Cat’s nothing more than a convenience.”

Like fuck.

I shove hard, sending him stumbling back, and take a swing at him, knuckles connecting with a satisfying thud. “She’s not a goddamn convenience, motherfucker. Don’t you ever fucking say shit like that again. Not when I’m falling for her, dammit!”

The admission hangs in the air between us, as a rush of vulnerability washes over me, leaving me bare, as if I’ve peeled away a protective layer and left myself exposed. My heart pounds hard against my ribcage, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum.

---