Page 30 of The Foul Out

Cam chuckled, though he still looked uncomfortable. “Like I said, you should have called.”

“I don’t have her number.” He whipped around and motioned for me to step closer. “Which reminds me, give me your number.”

My brow shot up, but I held firm. That was not happening. “No.”

“No?” With a huff, he looked from me to Cam and back again, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No?” he repeated, as if the sentiment were a foreign concept to him.

Had anyone ever not given the great Kyle Bosco their number when he asked? Probably not.

“No.” I straightened and pulled my shoulders back, then addressed Cam. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I’ve got an Uber on the way, so we’re all set.”

“Mr. Kyle,” Sam cut in before the man in front of me could argue. “We have your picture on our wall. Do you want to come see?”

“He doesn’t want to?—”

“Yes, I do,” Kyle said, lifting his chin. The damn man. I swore he’d say yes to anything, just to spite me.

“Yes!” Sam lunged at him and grasped his arm. His little hand barely fit around Kyle’s wrist as he pulled the very willing man down the hallway.

The gray Revs shirt Kyle wore pulled so tight against his muscular back, each ripple of muscle was visible from where I stood. He was too big, too broad, and too damn good-looking as he moved down our small hallway. I wished I hadn’t noticed. Because, for as obvious as his looks were, it was just as clear that he didn’t fit here in our apartment.

Like most professional athletes, Kyle was larger than life. And nothing about my life was more than average. Not my modest two-bedroom apartment or the basic Ikea furniture. Not the Legos scattered on top of the coffee table or the magnetic track that took up all the space between the couch and the wall. Even the dinosaurs that peppered the small four-person table in the dining room were average. Plastic and generic and inexpensive. The place was a mess.

I sighed as I took in the space, but with a shake of my head, I reminded myself that impressing Kyle Bosco was the last thing I should be worried about. I didn’t care what he thought.

“Do you mind if I set this down?” Cam lifted a beverage holder I hadn’t noticed. Three of the spots held white coffee cups.

“Not at all,” I said, nodding at the tiny galley kitchen. “You can put it on the counter.”

With an elbow, he switched the light on. Then set the cardboard carrier on the tan Formica and surveyed the organized space.

At least this room wasn’t a mess.

“Do you take your coffee like a dessert?” He pointed to one white cup. “Or black?” He pointed to the other two, both sporting sleeves.

“Black.”

“The right way.” Laughing, he pulled out one cup with a sleeve and held it out to me.

I took a step back and raised a hand. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“You can and you should.” Cam moved closer, cup in hand. “In the two years I’ve worked for him, I’ve discovered that Kyle is a lot easier to deal with after a good dose of caffeine. And if I were you, I’d just choose your battles and cancel the Uber. He’s not going to let it go until you and the kids are strapped into the car.”

“Is that so?” I took the cup. “You know, you have my number. I’m surprised you didn’t give it to bossy pants in there.”

Cam and I had spoken on the phone and via texts a few times this weekend. Between his help with my car and his updates—along with Hannah’s and Zara’s—on theirfix Harper’s standing with Bostoncampaign, and details regarding Little Fingers, there had been plenty to talk about.

He propped himself up against the counter and pulled out the second cup of black coffee. “Collecting numbers from women for him isn’t part of my job description.”

I snorted. The idea that Kyle would want my number in that way was absurd. I was a single mom with two kids and no time. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d gotten toothpaste on my purple blouse this morning but had forgotten to change it. That was fitting.

I set my coffee on the counter and wet a paper towel. “He doesn’t want my number. Not really. He’s just being forced to fix the mess he made with that stupid comment.”

Eyes narrowed, Cam sipped his coffee. “Yeah,” he eventually said. “I’m just going to say it. That’s the biggest lie I’ve heard this morning, and I heard Kyle swear that calling before showing up here wasn’t necessary.”

“Nice try.” I snorted as I pulled at the satin fabric of my top, working on the toothpaste spot.

“Piper’s getting dressed, and then we’ll be ready.” Kyle came trotting into the kitchen just as I dropped the paper towel onto the counter. “She and Sam are both excited for the day.”

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