Page 36 of Preacher

He cocked his brow. “You sound surprised.”

“I might be a little.” I could tell by his expression that he didn’t know how to take what I’d said, so I added, “Not because of you. It’s me. All me.”

“Um-hmm.”

“I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I really had fun.” I shrugged. “I didn’t think I had it in me anymore.”

“I think you’ve got a lot of fun left in you.”

“You think?”

“You wouldn’t be sitting here with me if you didn’t.”

“So, there’s hope for me yet.”

“Oh, absolutely, and I’ll prove it to ya.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’m thinking we’ll take a different route home.” A smirk slipped across his handsome face as he said, “One with a few more curves, and if you’re up for it, one more quick stop.”

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

The words came out before I had a chance to really think about what I was saying—which was a good thing. If I’d really thought about it, I might’ve told him no, and I would’ve missed out on a wild ride home. He’d taken the back road, and it curved and dipped like it had a mind of its own. And he didn’t hold back with the speed. There were times when we were flying.

I had a feeling he did quite often, and he did it without thinking like he knew every inch of the pavement. He picked up speed on one of the long curves, not enough to be reckless, just enough to make my breath catch and my hand reach for the edge of the seat.

But I wasn’t scared.

Not even a little.

It was a strange thing to feel safe while going fast, but that’s exactly how it felt with him. There was a sense of trust there that made no sense to me, but I knew he was in control and wouldn’t let anything happen to me. When we came up to a red light, he placed his hand on my calf and asked, “You good?”

I nodded, and when the light turned, we were off again.

We weren’t far from home when he slowed down and turned into the city park. The lights were on, and there were two teams out on the baseball field. They were middle school age, and they looked to be playing one hell of a game. The score was tied, 6 to 6, and the coaches were shouting out plays like they were in the middle of the World Series.

We parked, and after removing our helmets, we made our way over to the fence. It wasn’t long before a couple of the outfielders spotted us, and a couple of them shouted, “Hey, Coach G!”

Hudson lifted his hand and gave them a small wave, then motioned at them to keep their focus on the game. There was a big hit, and the outfielders started hustling for the ball. When one of them caught it, Hudson started clapping, “Heck yeah! Good catch, Pete!”

He tossed the ball back to the pitcher, and right as he was preparing to make the throw, Hudson shouted, “James! Square up your feet.”

The pitcher shifted his gate and then threw the ball. The batter swung and missed. The boys continued to play, and every now and then, Hudson would call out to the boys, giving them advice or congratulating them. I was quickly learning that there were many layers to the MC president.

I had no idea how long I’d been staring at him when he chuckled and asked, “What?”

“You’re a coach?”

“Part-time, but yeah.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Got roped into it a few years ago when one of the brother’s kids was playing. He found out I used to play and was pretty good, and one thing led to another.” He shrugged with a sexy smile. “Figured I could do worse with my time.”

He was trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but I saw the way he watched those boys. He looked at them like he not only knew their name but every detail of their story. It clearly meant more to him than he let on. I smiled as I told him, “I think it’s great that you help out like you do. I’m sure the kids love you.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

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