Page 5 of Catch Me
Miranda frowned as she looked toward the others. “Please, Til.”
He huffed and returned to his boyfriend, who was already shooting looks at the guy. I hadn’t really taken any time to study him. I just figured he was another family member, but since Tilian was concerned, I wanted to see what the deal was. Maybe I was a little nosey.
Roman was leaning against a wall, seeming uninterested in everything around him. When Miranda joined him, his expression softened and they started talking.
His hair was nearly black and cut short enough to touch the tops of his ears. Like Miranda, he had copper skin, slightly darker than hers, and from what I could tell, his eyes were a deep brown. He towered above her, and with the amount of muscle on him, he looked huge. I was tall and broad, but he was more cut than me. It was almost dramatic.
I watched his eyes go to Tilian. Roman looked angry, which explained why Tilian hadn’t wanted him around, but I didn’t know what their situation was. Since it wasn’t my business, I tried not to let it affect my opinion before I’d even met him.
Squaring my shoulders, I wandered over to him. “Hey, I’m Travis.”
He looked me up and down, and I refused to back down as he scrutinized me. The hostility was gone, but he struck me as someone who liked to be in control of things. I wouldn’t hold it against him, and I wanted to get a read on him for myself.
After a second, he offered me his hand. “Roman. You’re a baseball player, right?”
With a smile, I shook his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I am. Atlanta Braves.”
“The pitcher.”
“A baseball fan,” I mused. When I released him, he shoved his hand into his pocket. “Okay, so you already knew who I was.”
“Your team is my dad’s favorite.”
“Oh, cool. Tell him I’m sorry we didn’t make it here this year.” I drained the rest of my beer, holding his gaze the entire time.
He stared at me for a long moment, then blinked a couple of times. “Maybe next year.”
“That’s the plan. You should grab a seat up front so you can see the game.”
He scanned each of the guys over there. I couldn’t figure out what was going through his head. A couple different expressions passed over his face, but after a minute, he nodded and headed toward the front. I followed, grabbing two beers on the way there.
I sat in a seat next to him and passed him a bottle. He took it with a dip of his chin, then leaned his elbows on his knees as he watched the game intently.
The guy was confusing so far, but I thought he might just be shy or something.
West dropped into the seat beside me. When he dragged Linc onto his lap, he got an elbow to the shoulder.
“Don’t be an ass, Linc,” he grumbled.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you sound pretentious, gummy bear.”
“Watch that mouth, kartoffel.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“He called you a potato,” I said, trying not to laugh at their nicknames.
West scoffed, then looked at me. “How’s life, Trav? Keeping that throwing arm in good shape? Bet I could pitch better than you.”
“We’ll have to put it to the test. I’m sure Linc agrees that you need an ego check.”
He cackled. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. How’s the dog?”
I pulled out my phone to show him a picture I took of her in her new booties. “She hates getting her paws wet unless we’re swimming.”
“Ugh. Adorable. Can we get a dog, cookie?”
