Page 78 of The Shake Off

How had I not realized how strong she was?

“Ace…”

“Payton, come to my room. It’s fine...” I opened my mouth to tell her we always had girls over and the walls were thick, but then thought better of it. I tugged again, but she still didn’t move. “Come with me… or we can stay here if you prefer.”

Her response to that was clasping her hands tighter to her neckline, so instead, I changed up my approach. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I kind of pushed her forward, past the kitchen where the pancakes were now full-on burning, and guided her silently to my room as quickly as I could until she was safely inside.

“Lux, your pancakes....”

“Fuck!” was the last thing I heard any of them say before I closed the door behind me, blocking out the chaos, and focusing on the reality that was now in front of me.

I hit the dimmer switch so we weren’t standing in the dark or the eerie blue casting shadows around us from the lights of the city, and took the deepest breath I could. I wasn’t the world’s tidiest person, but given I’d spent every night this week at her place, my room was tidier than usual. Thankfully, the housekeeper had also been by, and I had clean sheets. The bed was made way better than I normally managed; all the empty Gatorade and water bottles that I left on my nightstand had been thrown in the trash; my laundry was clean and neatly put away instead of discarded on the floor where I’d stepped out of them.

In fact, looking around, my room might be the cleanest I’d ever seen it.

I never normally cared what a girl thought about my room. It never crossed my mind to care. They weren’t usually in here long enough to notice, and if they did, they never said anything. But I realized I cared what Payton thought, especially as she was standing in the middle of the room, statue-still, as she silently peered around my space. I ignored the stab of self-consciousness as her eyes moved along the bookshelves which ran the length of one wall.

They might have been bookshelves, but as I didn’t have that many books, they’d been used to store other things, like the ball from the first home run I’d hit after I was signed to The Yankees AAA team. The ball from the first game I’d pitched starting for The Yankees. The glove I’d been wearing the day I was drafted. An old Yankees bobblehead next to my Lions one, which she tapped on my nose as she passed, setting them both off in their little wobbly dance.

She finally stopped in front of one of the framed photos of my brothers and me, with our golden retriever, Wednesday. It had been taken last Thanksgiving, back home on my parents’ ranch. We were all dressed up in the pajamas my mom made us wear, even the dog, and standing in front of the roaring fireplace in their log cabin. The snow had been three feet deep that day, and we’d spent all morning sledding down the hillside like we’d always done as kids.

When she spoke, her tone was quiet, not quite a whisper, but quieter than I’d ever heard it before, and it was missing the usual assertive tone it carried; the one that always had me doing her biding.

“Is this your family?”

“Yeah.” I stepped next to her, the scent of fresh laundry and flowers wafted up my nose and settled on my chest. “I have three brothers – Coby, Travis, and Stevie. And that’s Wednesday Watson the Wonder Dog. I’m the youngest.”

“That figures; it’s why you don’t take no for an answer.” She placed the photo back down before continuing. “How come you got Ace for a name?”

I chuckled. “Actually, my name’s Justin, but when I was a kid, I was always getting out of trouble, or never getting into it in the first place. My brothers took the heat, mostly because they weren’t as quick as me. They started calling me Lucky Aces, which became Ace.”

She didn’t say any more, but I could see the start of a smile curving the edge of her lips, only for it to drop as her eyes flicked to the next image. “Are these your parents?”

“Yup. That’s Bill and Ellen Watson.”

“And they still live together?”

I frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she paused and her knuckles whitened as she gripped her raincoat. “Your parents are still together?”

“Oh,” I chuckled, “yeah. My dad’s a cattle farmer, and they have a ranch in Montana. It’s where I’m from.”

She spun around, her eyes brighter than they had been, a hint of amusement sparkling behind them. “Your dad’s a cowboy?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

With her heels on, she was much closer in height to me than she normally was. It also occurred to me we never really spent any time talking. I knew next to nothing about her except for where she worked, and who her friends were. Oh, and I’d read up on that boss lady of hers I’d met. But outside of sex, we’d never beenthisclose together forthisperiod of time while we still had our clothes on. Also, all this information was easily searchable, so no one ever bothered to ask. Any girls I’d had in my bedroom already knew it all, but as I answered her questions, I realized Ilikedanswering.

It made me feel as though she was interested in me, getting to know me for more than just my dick. And it had me wondering what else I could find out about her, though it didn’t seem like she was done with her questions.

“How did you end up in baseball, if you were a farming family?”

I grinned. “My dad loves baseball. I think he figured he already had three boys to pass the ranch on to, and so I was the one he pushed into sports – especially as I’m not great with blood. Birthing calves? No thank you.” I shuddered dramatically, making her smile.

She really did have the prettiest smile. It lit up her face better than any spotlight, and I wanted to see it again.

“Do they come to watch you?”

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