Page 24 of The Curveball

“Go to sleep, Birdie. Or I’m going to leave out of fear for catching a knee somewhere unpleasant.”

“Did you threaten me, Marks?”

“Take it how you will.” He starts to pull away.

Nope. I’m not giving up my Griffin blanket just yet. My arms snap around his waist and pull him back to me. Head in a fog, I vaguely recognize the act of resting my cheek on his chest; the steady thrum of his heart is like white noise.

“You’re so comfy, Griff. And you smell good. Most people don’t smell so good, but I think I might lick you.”

“You’re slurring, but I will never forget that I am lickable. Every man needs to know if he is or not.” Griffin draws slow circles on my back with his fingertips. “Now, go to sleep.”

Finally satisfied in my bear hug sleeping position, I sigh and nose his T-shirt a little, giving in. “If you say so, Griff. But only this once.”

I fall asleep to the soft whisper of another laugh.

CHAPTER9

WREN

I knowGriffin is gone before I open my eyes. Several times through the early morning, Griffin gently nudged me awake and asked me a few standard questions.

My body aches, and I’m colder than before.

With a groan, I flop over to the empty spot my big, sexy catcher had been in an hour ago. Except he’s not my catcher. I gave myself one night to let the pills do the talking. This morning, for the safety of everyone, it’s best to return to neutral ground.

Then, the door opens and Griffin steps inside, and I forget what I’m thinking about.

His hair is damp. Goodness, this freshly showered, sweat-pant look should be a mandatory standard for the man.

“Hey,” he smiles through a yawn.

I pinch my nose; a burn of guilt blooms in my gut. “You’re going to be running on fumes all day because of me.”

“Or is it because of me? I did the hitting last night, Birdie.”

“You should’ve handed me off to someone else. Yesterday was a huge loss for the team, then with the late night at the hospital, and waking up all night—not sure how you’re standing.”

“Handed you off?” He scoffs and steps further into the room. For the first time I take note of the tray in his hand. A plate of food steams in the morning light. “For your information I love waking up every two hours, and I especially love sleeping next to a restless kangaroo.”

“Excuse me? A what?”

“You kick.” He sets the tray down. “A lot.”

I frown, but only to bury the smile threatening to break. This is not normal. Maybe Anna had a right to worry, because I’m not this person. I’m not this comfortable around others, especially not a man, and certainly not Griffin.

Except when we communicate nonverbally. Or sometimes I’m comfortable when he turns around before a game starts and talks to me through the barrier. Usually about all the different angles I’ll get to glimpse his backside.

There are moments when he’ll send a random text shooting off ideas for my new book. Even if he hasn’t read my last book because there’s no way he’s read my book. I suppose in those few scenarios, I’ve been comfortable with Griffin.

“Zoning out on me, Birdie?”

I blink out of my musing. Griffin is holding two Aspirin in his palm with a glass of orange juice. “Why do you call me Birdie? You’ve never told me.”

“Your name is a bird,” he says easily as he sits on the bed. “But the first time I called you Birdie your nose wrinkled in this half-cute, half-sexy smile. You tried to hide it, but I saw it, and I’ve been trying to bring it back ever since.”

Griffin chuckles and plucks a red grape off the tray. To him, perhaps, it’s a simple, ironic sentence. To me, it’s a blow torch to the chest. A pain which my head can’t decide if it’s pleasurable or torture.

Griffin noticed a stupid smile, or from how he describes it, a grimace. Now, ever since he’s been trying to make me grimace-grin?

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