Page 11 of The Curveball

“You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“Not in your car that probably has a dozen shades of lipstick stained on the seats.”

“I’m feeling very judged.”

I scoff, but another wave of tension releases from my shoulders. “I’ll just see you there, Griffin.”

He winks and finally disappears back into the hallway.

The man is relentless. He pushes, and tugs, and prods until I can’t take it for another second, so I break.

And it’s much too enjoyable watching him walk away.

I let out a grunt of frustration for even allowing my head to drift to the stupidly toned backside of Griffin Marks. He said all that crap about bodies, and muscles, and sweat because he knew catchers’ glutes are things of legends.

Hewantedme to look, and I cave every time.

This’ll probably be a bad idea, mixing my personal life into the world of the nosy Vegas Kings, but either way, I have a feeling tonight is going to shake my comfortable existence for good.

CHAPTER4

GRIFFIN

Through the cloudof grease and too many lungs breathing at the same time, a magnetic pull holds my attention at the neighboring table.Rocco’sis bursting at the seams, and I can hardly focus on any of it.

A favorite tradition is ruined over a guy who wears his cell phone clipped to his belt.

Wren must sense my scrutiny, because in the next breath, she turns over her shoulder at an agonizingly slow pace.

Her eyes narrow and the hair lifts on my arms. Busted.

I tip my beer to my lips, ready to pretend I wasn’t being overly observant, but her glare has insane power. The way her eyes turn to ice cuts through the crowd and pierces me in place like an arctic wind in the thick heat of Las Vegas.

I lift one shoulder in a lazy shrug.What?

It’s not like my observing her date is a surprise. I gave Wren fair warning this guy would be under harsh scrutiny until I’m satisfied he isn’t going to do one of our Kings ladies wrong.

Wren’s nose wrinkles with her scowl. Her eyes go wide, and she juts her chin at me.Turn around.

I’m not positive when our ability to speak telepathically began, but it is what it is.

She insists she doesn’t like me—I suspect because I called hersweetheartthe first time we met—but tell me how many people can communicate mentally who don’t have some semblance of affection for each other.

Wren looks at me like she wants nothing more than my brain to boil in my skull. Then again, if she hated looking at me so much, she could easily break eye contact and focus on her date. But there is an unspoken battle of pride here. I refuse to look away, and the woman seems ready to die on the hill of holding her stare the longest.

Almost like she might like looking at me as much as I like looking at her.

“Griff, you’re being a voyeur,” Dax mutters without looking up from his phone.

Truth be told, I’m shocked Dax showed up tonight. He’s the smartest, most genuine guy on the team, but the most antisocial person I’ve ever met.

“He’s like a puppy looking for a scratch behind the ear,” Ryder says through a loud, sloppy crunch of his nachos. “The second she gives him attention, he’ll move on.”

My bottle bangs against the table, louder than anticipated. “You make it sound like I’m shallow.”

“Not shallow,” Ryder amends. “Easily distracted.”

“Hey, I’ve been friends with your frown for years.”

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