Page 59 of Wild Pitch
I clear my throat. “What?” The question goes both to her and to my body, to be honest.
“Ihateshopping.”
“Of course you do.” My words come out garbled.
She doesn’t seem to notice because instead she folds her arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re always in training clothes, official or not.” After a pause, I add, “Well, I apologize for the assumption on my part. Maybe you do enjoy shopping for gym clothes a lot.”
“No, I hate it too.”
“Then I withdraw my apology.” Somehow that earns me a smack on my arm. “Hey, what’s that for?”
“I don’t know, I just have been bottling up a big need to do you bodily harm, but I really can’t satisfy that without getting fired. This is the least you could take from me.”
I jerk my face away lest she can read what’s going on in my mind. That groan of hers has really put me on a path that’s probably worse than the creep who was checking her out earlier. My logical brain knows there’s no real innuendo behind her words, but my lizard brain screams that I could take everything from her.
“All right,” I say a bit too loud and squeaky in an attempt to shut down that train of thought before it departs the station. I click on the radio and Shaboozey fills the quiet.
“You okay, Cowboy?” I can feel her laser beam eyes on the side of my face as I finally set the truck in motion and merge into traffic.
“Yep.”
That’s literally the last word I manage to say for the entire drive. Garcia tries to drill me about where we’re going and I don’t respond, which she thankfully takes to mean that I’m being mysterious, without having any idea that I’m just having a war with myself on the inside.
Since when does Hope Garcia make my skin feel like it’s on fire?
At a red stoplight, she’s saying, “—And that’s why I think dresses are a waste of time. Like, I get it, guys can see some gams or some other skin and that’s fun for them. But for me it’s no fun if I can’t move around freely or if I have no pockets, you know?” And her words barely register because all I can do is look at her.
Her skin is a light brown that doesn’t blush easily. What would it take to make it grow fully red? But the funny part is that her lips are naturally pink. And thick. I once dated a girl who had to see a plastic surgeon to get hers to look kind of like Garcia’s.
Shit, she’s still moving them. “Hmm?” I manage to ask.
“I said, I bet you wouldn’t like it if your clothes had no pockets, huh?”
I snort and turn back to the front when traffic moves again. I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. The radio shifts to a classic from Shania Twain and Garcia starts singing along under her breath, so I use the controls in my steering wheel to ramp up the volume. As she sings more freely, I relax on my seat.
We make it to the Outlets, one of Orlando’s most touristy attractions. A lot of the hardcore shoppers have already left for the day and we manage to find a parking spot near the entrance. After watching for traffic, we cross the rest of the parking lot and I make sure to keep a friendly distance from her. Close enough that any other potential creeps will be deterred, but not enough that she’ll get weirded out.
However, the grounds are still teeming with people who speak all the languages under the blue sky, and it forces us closer.
Just as we’re rounding a corner, a tween boy runs by and I pull Garcia against me a second before the kid rams into her. The little jerk doesn’t even apologize.
“Whoa!” Garcia then says something in Spanish that I have no hope of catching.
“You okay?” I look down.
Mistake. When she leans her head back to glance up, it fully rests against my right pec.
“Yeah, thanks. You probably just saved me from needing new teeth.” She chuckles and I notice that her body’s still pressed against mine.
I release her arms and step back slowly but surely. Jamming my hands in the pockets of my jeans, I lift my chin in the direction we should continue on because again, I can’t speak for shit. My teeth gnash as we resume the walk. The feeling of her butt pressed against my hip hasn’t disappeared, but that’s not even as bad as the weight of her head on my chest.
Maybe I’ve been single too long. Rather, I’ve never had a proper girlfriend and maybe it’s time to consider that. I’ll sure need a big distraction once this whole saga with Garcia is over and she’s found someone to be happy with.
Finally, I motion toward the fancy store I chose for this. I heard one of the wives at a team party once mention that this was where she shopped when she wanted to impress Miller, her hubby. It was followed by a lingerie brand but my brain blocked out that part for my own self preservation. Besides, that’s not a stop we’re going to include in tonight’s shenanigans before I deliver her to Kim. I will also murder him in cold blood if he tries to take it that far on date one.
All that flies out of my head when Garcia stops, takes one look at the store’s display, and blurts out, “I can’t go in there.”
