Page 30 of Pitcher

The girl working the register has blown me a few times.

Maybe more.

Her face seems familiar, but her name escapes me.

“Will this be all?” she says sweetly, her voice dripping with a sexy rasp that gets me every fucking time.

Except today.

I have bigger excitement today than what’s-her-name’s wide jaw.

“Yep,” I clip out, fishing a twenty out of my wallet and handing it over.

If she is wondering why I’m buying tampons, she doesn’t ask. Most women who deal with me don’t. I think they all know about mine and Anniston’s relationship. Whatever it may be.

She hands me the change and slides the bag toward me. The name tag displays her name as Nan. Huh. I didn’t peg her for a Nan.

I smile, avoiding her hand still clutching the bag. “Thanks. See ya around.”

Instead of being subtle, she just goes for it. “Call me sometime. I’ve missed you.”

Yeah… probably not going to happen.

I’ve significantly decreased my fuck sessions here recently.

Why? Well, if I’m going to be forced to cuddle, then I’d rather do it with the pretty little blonde that sleeps with her door cracked so I can watch her get off while she watches silly rom-com movies.

I make a noncommittal sound I hope she takes for a no and head out.

I make one more stop at the house before I pull up to the school and park by the gym’s entrance where Anniston awaits.

Grabbing the bags, I strut into the elaborate gym that produces no pro athletes from its walls and find the girls’ locker room, shouting, “Cover up, ladies! Guy coming in!”

After a moment, no one screams and I push through.

Ihear him before I see him.

My asshole hero.

Grinning, I step out of the shower room, securing the towel around me and pad out into the area where he’s standing like he owns the room with his gym bag over his shoulder.

“Good evening, ma’am. I was dispatched to clean up a crime scene. Can you escort me to the area?”

This motherfucker wants me to marry him one day.

His stupid grin has the dimple in his cheek dipping low as if it wants me to lick it.

Not today, little dimple. Not yet.

Moving toward the man who ditched class to come to my rescue, I wrap my damp body around him and squeeze.

“Thank you, Teddy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says like he’s annoyed, but he squeezes me back, so I know he’s not that upset about leaving school or going to the drug store.

It was poor planning on my part. Usually I keep spare tampons in my bag, but I changed bags last night and I left it out. I also had one more damn day before I was supposed to start! I hate when my period is early.

“Here,” he says, pulling back and sliding his gym bag over his shoulder. “I figured you needed clothes too.”

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