Page 132 of Off Season

I hear all the guys laughing as they notice us approaching. I smile as I nod in agreement. “That’s a true statement.”

Daylen winks. “It’s Cheetah’s Kam. Happy you made it.”

“I’m no one’s Kam.” I look at Vance. “How’s grumpy pants tonight?”

Daylen answers, “I think he has his man period. He’smanstruating.”

I laugh while Vance gives him the finger. The two of them are like the odd couple, though I never see one without the other.

We’re introduced to Champ, who is even more attractive in person. Bailey sits next to him, and they start chatting right away. At least ten girls approach him, but he doesn’t give them the time of day, seemingly engrossed in all things Bailey. Initially, I think all hope for her isn’t lost, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize that Champ is gay. I don’t know why, but my gaydar is always spot on. I’m never wrong.

So much for Bailey getting action tonight. She’s blissfully ignorant though, seeming to enjoy her conversation with him. Her being social is a win, so I’m saying nothing.

Some skanky girl starts throwing herself at Vance. I can tell he’s not interested so I purposely spill my drink on her. I never see him with women. The other guys indulge and bask in the adoration of the woman throwing themselves at them, but Vance never does. He’s not gay, I can tell. He’s an interesting dude. I wonder what his story is.

Bailey and Champ leave the table to dance. He’s putting a smile on her face. That’s all I care about. They’re laughing and dancing up a storm on the dance floor. It warms my heart to see her like this after the week she’s had.

My Bailey stalking is interrupted by Vance, who asks, “Have you been watching the Spring Training games? Your boy toy got off to a slow start, but he’s ramping it up just in time for the season.”

It’s true. Cheetah was terrible for their first few games but is doing well now. “I have. They’re going to have a good season. I can feel it.”

Daylen scratches his head. “Speaking of feeling, I have a lesbian question for you.”

I roll my eyes. This routine from men is getting old. “I’m not a lesbian, André the Giant.”

The guys all laugh hysterically. Even Vance smiles. “Holy shit, I’m calling you André the Giant from now on. Ha! It’s perfect.”

André the Giant was a famous wrestler in the eighties, though most women know him as the giant from the moviePrincess Bride. The man stood at over seven feet tall, weighed more than five hundred pounds, and could barely string together two sentences.

Daylen bites back his smile. “That’s a good one. Seriously, I have a question about beaver bumping.”

The corners of my mouth raise in amusement. “Ask away, André. I’m here for your education and amusement.”

He wiggles his big, meaty fingers. “Would you consider lesbians with fat fingers to be well hung?”

The guys all laugh again. They’re idiots. I’m over this scene. I miss Cheetah and his clever sense of humor.

Bailey and Champ eventually return. I see the drinks are getting low, and the waitress is nowhere to be found. I need a break from them, so I offer to go buy a round. It will give me fifteen minutes to breathe.

I manage to talk the bartender into giving me a tray. I’m carefully placing it on our table when a familiar scent invades my nostrils. Warmth, familiarity, and a sense of calm blanket me. I know he’s here before he whispers into my ear, “Want to playTitanic?”

I have to bite back my smile and calm myself from the fact that I’m so fucking happy right now. I answer, “Fine, but I’m going be the iceberg this time, and you’re going to be the ship that goes down.”

I feel him silently laughing as I turn around in his arms and look into his gorgeous blue eyes. I have to hold back my tears. I’ve missed him so damn much.

He’s in jeans and a blue button-down shirt. His skin is sun-kissed from being in Florida for the past month. His scruff is more overgrown than how he normally keeps it. He looks edible.

He grabs my ass and pulls my body flush to his beforeexplaining that their final game for tomorrow was rained out, so he hightailed it to the airport to come home early.

I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know where I was?”

He runs his tongue along his lower lip. “Find My iPhone.”

“Stalker.” I may have made him add me to his Find My iPhone when we went to Jamaica. It was my first time out of the country, and I was reading too many articles on sex trafficking.

He winks at me. “Don’t lie to yourself. You get off on me stalking you.”

True. I totally do.

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