Page 67 of Bae

A low grumble filled the room. My chest vibrated from the sheer force of it. “I think you know,” I intoned.

I’d kill.

I’d sit in jail for the rest of my life.

“Well, not only did younottell me about this list, but I had to hear about it during a national televised game, in a room withyour parents.”

I’m sure my parents already knew about the list, but I didn’t bother pointing that out. That definitely would have made things worse.

I opened my mouth, but she stuck her finger between us.

Dayum… Smalls was sassy tonight.

“Not to mention I got to look down in the stands to see an entire row of glow-in-the-dark bobbleheads holding signs, offering their services.”

Glow-in-the-dark bobbleheads? Original.

I laughed.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Those women were so bleached out I’m shocked they even had hair left. It was probably all extensions.”

“I’m not interested in anyone but you, baby,” I told her, trying to hold on to my shit. If she said one more adorably cute thing in anger, I was going to piss myself from laughter.

“Don’t you placate me, Roman Anderson.”

The hotel landline rang, saving me. I dove to the side and picked it up. “Roman Anderson,” I said briskly.

It was the hotel staff. “Mr. Anderson, this is the restaurant downstairs. We were getting ready to close up tonight and noticed you haven’t ordered your usual room service. Would you like us to put that order in?”

There was one perk of staying at the same hotel for every home game. The staff here knew me very well.

I made a sound of appreciation. “Actually, that would be great. Running a little behind tonight and forgot to call.”

I felt Rimmel staring at my back and glanced around. “Could I add a slice of that chocolate cake you guys make and some coffee to that usual order?”

I heard once that if your lady was in a mood, the best course of action was to throw chocolate at her and back away. I wasn’t backing away from Rimmel. I’d rather take the heat of her anger and be at her side. But chocolate might be a good idea.

“Of course,” the man on the line replied smoothly. “We’ll have that right up, Mr. Anderson. And congratulations on your win this evening.”

“Thank you,” I said, then hung up the phone. “I got you some cake,” I told Rim.

She sighed wearily. “I’m sorry about what I did. That definitely wasn’t the time or place. And I only made the press more rabid and embarrassed us both.”

I grabbed her around the waist and lifted, placing her in my lap so she was facing me. I noted the goose bumps along her upper arms, so I tugged the sheet out from under us and pulled it up around her back. Her hands grasped the sides and tugged it closer, holding it there.

“You didnotembarrass me. I don’t think you ever could.”

Round, brown eyes with flecks of gold fell on mine. “I marched into the stands, knowing the press would follow, and literally confronted those ho-bags. I didn’t do a very good job either. I fell into one of their laps!”

I chuckled. “A couple things… Thoseho-bagshad it coming.” I lifted a finger as I listed things. “And maybe I should show you a few moves to make you a little less… clumsy and a little more effective.”

She muttered, “I’d probably kill myself, and we both know it.”

“There will be no dying,” I said, allegedly in jest, but there was an underlying note of steel in my voice. I didn’t let myself think about why.

“What about the press?” she asked.

“What about them?” I scoffed. “They can’t get any more zealous then they already are.”

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