Page 62 of Love Game

“If I’m not allowed to picture them both, I’ll take one of two,” Avery allowed with a magnanimous wave. Settling her chin on her palm, she gazed at Millie with rapt attention. “Tell us what’s going on with Tasty Ty.”

Despite Avery’s guffaw, Millie’s expression remained grim. “I don’t know anything for sure, but I need some advice.”

Kate blinked, taken aback. Millie gave advice; she didn’t ask for it. “Advice?”

Avery raised both eyebrows. “Well, this is a first.”

“Hush,” Kate hissed, concerned by Millie’s unchecked frown.

“Well, you know I spend a lot of time poking around the various social media platforms,” Millie began. “I have to tell you, I hate PicturSpam. There are some things a person just wishes she could unsee, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Avery agreed wholeheartedly.

Kate said nothing but gave an encouraging nod.

“I’m not certain, but I think Ty’s wife might be fooling around on him.”

Kate’s stomach dropped to her feet. “You think this because of something you saw on PicturSpam?”

Millie pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead, smoothing the wrinkles away. “God, don’t these idiots realize that once you press post, things are out there for everyone to see? Forever?”

“And you saw Ty’s wife with another guy?” Avery prompted.

Heaving a sigh, Millie picked up her glass. “I saw Ty’s wife in ways I never wanted to see anyone whose spouse I have to face on a regular basis.”

“Shit.”

Kate muttered the word, but the heartfelt sentiment cut through the ambient noise of clinking glasses, piped-in rock and roll, and the groans of a few baseball fans with their eyes glued to a wall-mounted television.

Millie looked up, her blue eyes sad and troubled. “Do I say something?”

The three of them fell silent as they contemplated the question. On the television, the batter stepped out of the box to take a couple of practice swings. He was facing down a full count of balls and strikes. Kate stared at the screen, riveted by the man’s expression as he stepped up to the plate to await the next pitch, his bat swaying over his shoulder, moved by barely contained anticipation.

Kate watched, unblinking. She hated baseball, but God, she loved that feeling. The pressure. Tension humming in her blood. Sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. Unlike most people, she thrived on make or break moments. She often made it, but only because she knew better than to force a shot. A true player knew to run the route, let the ball roll off their fingertips, or wait for the right pitch to come. They trusted their instincts above everything else. And they refused to admit defeat until the last buzzer sounded.

There was no way anyone could have made her see her ex-husband for the parasite he was, no matter what proof they had. She had to find that out on her own. And though she had known deep down that her marriage to Jeff was over long before Ty Ransom was named men’s basketball coach, she hadn’t wanted to admit it. She’d signed a contract based on sentiment when she took the coaching job at Wolcott. That was her mistake. Not Mike’s or Danny’s or even her agent’s. After all, Jonas had advised her to hold out longer. Not just ask for more but flat-out demand they pay her what she was worth.

But she didn’t listen. Ty Ransom wouldn’t listen either.

Poor Ty. He’d have to wait until his instincts kicked in. Millie wasn’t entirely certain, and even if she were, it wasn’t her place to say anything. No one wants to admit they made a huge mistake on something as fundamental as choosing the right person to love.

“No,” Kate said at last. As if snapping from a trance, she jerked her head to look at her friend. “You can’t say anything that’ll make any difference. They’ll just have to let things play out.”

* * *

She came home to find Danny’s ball cap on her end table and the man himself propped against her headboard. He was mostly naked, or at least stripped to the waist, and propped on both pillows as if he owned the place. She tried to work up what Avery would think was an appropriate amount of ire at finding him in her space without invitation once again, but she couldn’t. She liked coming home to him, as cheesy as that sounded.

Spotting her in the doorway, he muted the television. “Hey. How was your night?”

“Better now,” she said, refusing to feel even a hint of shame at the confession.

A slow smile spread across his handsome features. He dropped the remote on the nightstand and gestured for her to come closer. Not even taking a moment to toe off her shoes, Kate dove onto the bed and into his arms. The skin stretched over his biceps was warm and smooth. Kate turned her head and pressed her lips to the tender flesh on the inside. Though he was ticklish, he didn’t flinch or shy away. He just let her kiss him.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy and rough around the edges.

“Long day.”

He tucked his chin to his chest and peered down at her, blue eyes wary and watchful. “But this is okay? Me being here?”

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