Page 7 of Endgame

I don’t want to notice him this close. Even seeing his attractiveness could send me spiraling and risk all the work I’ve been putting into bettering myself. Slowly, but consistently.

Callaway pauses once the buckle clips, letting his breathing be the only audible sound I hear.

Why can’t this be a simple car ride? Why does he have to get all up close and personal with me?

I’m obviously not about to ask him that. Maybe if I stay silent, he’ll do his thing and finally take me home.

I gather my wits and slowly turn my head in his direction, attempting to keep my body still. His blue eyes are fixed on mine, and the smirk that plays across his ridiculously smooth face is tragic for my strength.

“Safety first.”

Callaway lifts his sunglasses, making sure I see the gesture for what it is. Then he winks,spiking my body temperature to an unhealthy degree.

Jesus, take the wheel. Or at least get me out of this car fast.

I don’t even have a chance to respond before he speeds off and out of the parking lot.

I must have lost all my words because I’ve got nothing to say, although my fast heart rate should be the first sign that I’m still alive.

Thankfully, the outside heat is flushing my cheeks, and my sunglasses shield part of my face; otherwise, he would surely see my stone-cold heart blushing.

I should probably be concerned by the small fact that he made me blush in a matter of seconds when he called me “angel.”

But here I am: dead inside and suddenly feeling very alive.

4

CALLAWAY

Highlight.Highlighter. What do women call it?

Not that it matters, but whatever that buttery glow stuff she’s lathered in has me drawing my attention to her chest like a starved man.

I was just front and center with the pretty demon, and now I’m giving her a ride—pure stupidity.

She smells like toasted vanilla and coconut.

What is wrong with me? I took a whiff of my sister’s best friend playingpassenger princessin my Jeep. I need to shut it down before I get too personal.

I’ve heard stories about the infamous Dakota from Navy, but I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her. I could tell by our initial interaction that she’s been having a bad day.

When Navy texted asking for my help, I couldn’t say no.

Navy and I have always had each other's backs, and if Dakota matters to Navy, then she matters to me.

Thankfully, I was heading in her direction anyway for practice.

I’m the crazy one who likes to show up two hours beforehand to put in more fielding work. Being a pitcher in theMajor League is terrifying most days, but so fucking rewarding the next. The pitcher and the catcher are responsible for holding the game together. If our game isn’t on point, a loss is almost guaranteed. That’s why I turn into a dedicated psychopath before the season starts—I want to be the best of the best.

We’ve been driving in silence for what feels like hours but has only been minutes. Her presence is taking up all of the extra space in the Jeep. I might need to have a chat with my sister about the golden little secret she’s been keeping from me.

The secret being the beautiful woman seated next to me.

The sharp ringing of her phone grabs my attention, taking my eyes off the road for a second. I don’t like the idea of eavesdropping, but it’s kind of difficult when there’s nowhere for me to escape.

I’ll sit here silently and let her do her thing.

“Hello?”

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