Page 30 of Bad Call

“I’m in the mood for meat. I think I’ll have the filet.”

He’d done it again. Unintentional slip of the tongue.

I grinned smugly and when he lowered his menu, he huffed. “Notyourmeat, Baylor.”

“Sure, Casey.” Taking a sip from my tea, I slurped from the straw louder than I intended to. It set an already touchy Casey off, making him glare at me.

What perverse streak in me found this side of him fun?

“I got you something.” He tossed a wrapped package onto the table.

I was shocked. Casey thought of me? He bought me something? “A gift?”

“No, a… something. Just open it.”

I couldn’t disguise my excitement as I tore open the paper. What could he have possibly gotten me?

I frowned. The blue paperback mocked me. “A rule book?”

It was Casey’s turn to be smug. “I figured it wouldn’t kill you to learn the rules of the game.”

“I assure you, I know the damn rules, Collins.”

He clucked his tongue. “Hard to tell from the calls you make.”

Carelessly, I tossed the book on the table. “Maybe if you spent less time worrying about my career and more time focusing on yours, you wouldn’t have to rely on my calls to make sure you won the game.”

His face hardened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re too soft on your third baseman. What’s his name? Hagman?”

“Hager,” he corrected, his mouth pinched.

“Yeah, I know he was one of your top picks, but he knew it, and he’s a spoiled ass. You let too much slide with your team. You need to come down harder on them.”

Casey looked mad enough to spit nails. “What the fuck do you know about coaching?”

“Enough to know that you’re not doing it right.”

Fire blazed in his blue eyes. “You know nothing!”

“What I know is that you rely too heavily on Austin to carry the team. You need to make it clear that you expect the rest of them to step up. Bunch of fucking slackers.”

Casey leaned across the table. He was seething. He looked so fucking hot. “One of these days, I’m going to get my hands around your neck and squeeze. Squeeze so fucking hard.”

My cock kicked, and I reached down to adjust it. He caught the action, his eyes tracking my movements, and his nostrils flared.

“That got you hard?” he asked. My grin wasn’t borne of smugness, more like embarrassment. “Your head is so fucking twisted. It scares me.”

I would love to know what would have happened next, but we were interrupted by our waitress. “Are you ready to order?”

Casey backed down. “He’ll have the seafood pasta and I’ll take the filet, medium rare, with a loaded baked potato.”

“Would you like soup or salad with your pasta?” she asked me.

“He’ll have the salad, with Caesar dressing and no tomatoes.”

My stomach flipped with excitement. Look at him, ordering for me, and nailing it right on the head. Somebody had paid attention during our last non-date.

---