Page 41 of The Foul Out

“How about this? We’ll deduct life points if you do this post-off against me and win.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be gaining ‘life points’”—he lifted his free hand and made air quotes—“here soon.”

Willow got a fistful of her dad’s hair and yanked, but the move barely fazed him.

“I’ve got another two years before I even think about retiring.” Chuckling, I crossed my arms over my chest.

He gently pried his daughter’s fingers from his hair and straightened. “Not what I meant. More the practically married part.”

Dylan’s eyes widened, and she bounced on her toes. “Oh my God. Is this like what happened with Liv and Becks? Where he’s all ‘I’m not into her,’ and they bicker all the time, but it’s only because he doesn’t have her yet?” Her voice was high-pitched as she finished the question.

My gut lurched. “No,” I assured her quickly and curtly.

But Cortney just raised a brow and smirked.

“I love that.” Dylan laced her fingers under her chin and tipped her head.

With a sharp breath in, I gathered my thoughts, ready to explain again that Harper wasn’t my type. But I was stopped by the sound of a grating voice behind me.

“You co-own Hope Speaks?”

Wincing, I slowly turned around, finding myself trapped in Harper’s glare.

“Ooh.” Dylan shook her head. “Let’s get that orangy-red passion out in the hall.”

I didn’t know what the orangy-red shit she was talking about was, but I nodded anyway and led a glaring Harper out the door.

“You’re Hope Speaks, and you picked Piper for a grant.” With her mouth pressed in a firm line like that, the small bow of her upper lip became more pronounced.

I tried not to think about how that lip had felt against my finger this morning. It was no use. The memory of the warm satin flesh was a taunt. And the slow puff of air that rushed across my skin when she’d released her breath?

Damn. Those simple thoughts had a wave of need rolling through me.

Her eyes sparked with fire like they had this morning. “Are you going to even bother responding?”

Fuck. With a thick swallow, I forced myself to focus. “I do run Hope Speaks, but I didn’t pick the grant recipients this year.”

That was the truth. Kayla had narrowed them down, and Mason had picked the two recipients, neither of whom was Piper. But that nugget of information wasn’t going to help me win this argument.

She huffed. “I don’t like being bulldozed.”

“Bulldozed.” I repeated the word to give myself a moment to come up with an answer because, shit, I knew exactly what she meant.

“Yes, Kyle. I googled Hope Speaks. It’s definitely you. You can’t come into our lives and start trying to take control. I don’t understand your motives here. And?—”

That was fair. What I was doing only made sense to me, and I was doing it because I’d made a promise to my best friend. A promise that definitely didn’t include tasting whipped cream off this woman’s lip. But fucking hell, I’d seen that flash of pleasure in her eyes as she sipped my coffee, and instinct had taken over.

But that wouldn’t happen again. I knew better. Harper needed help, and unfortunately, that kind of help didn’t include orgasms. I shook my head. Harper and orgasms should be two very separate topics in my mind. Harper went with things likestay away. Andyou know better than to even think about her that way.

“Why are you shaking your head? I’m dead serious.”

I believed it, but I had been too in my head for the last few minutes to hear what she’d said.

“I know.”

“Good. So we agree that Boston seems pretty much over the whole foul ball thing. And you’ve more than made up for your tirade. And you agree that it’s time to move on?” Harper cocked her head to the side, and a stray piece of hair swept across her cheek.

My hand twitched with the urge to brush it back, but I restrained myself by locking my arm against my side. “Piper needs the therapy that Hope Speaks can offer. Don’t stop her from getting it because you’re annoyed with me.”

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