Page 59 of Wild Catch
“She hasn’t—” I stop myself. There’s no way I can explain this.
But the vultures lean forward.
“Well, well,well. Looks like our charismatic catcher hasn’t been able to fully charm the girl.”
“Do you need some advice?”
“You kiss like this.” One of the stooges makes beaks with his hands and touches them together. “Just make sure to get her permission first.”
“That’s right, my girlfriend says that there’s nothing sexier than consent.”
“Maybe also rearrange your whole face,” Starr says with a grin. “She’ll find you more attractive when you don’t look like you want to commit murder.”
“I only want to murderyou,” I offer acidly.
Funny enough, the person in this whole house who will test my patience the least is my alleged date. I glance back at her and find her in conversation with Brown’s wife.
The depth of my visceral reaction knocks the wind out of me. Brown’s wife is a narc—short of narcissist. I’ve known that since I met her. She’s all about being the perfect hostess, the center of attention, the perfect wife.
Meanwhile, she makes her husband anguish about pleasing her.
I only know that part because I once overheard a phone conversation by accident, and Brown swore me to secrecy.
That’s never been any of my business.Thisis. Rose isn’t my anything, but I have to hang out around her now. The last thing I need is for someone around me to catch the attention of the very type of people I want to keep out of my life.
The guys are still talking when I march back inside. A couple of women in the living room stare at me like they’ve never seen me before, but I keep going.
“—Would totally love to invite you and Logan for—” Brown’s wife is saying.
No stinking way.
Amber Brown stops mid sentence when I appear next to Rose and insert my finger in the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her toward me. “Can I borrow Rose?”
The Mrs. Brown lowers her eyes to the point of contact between my alleged girlfriend and I, and plasters on a brilliant smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s almost like looking right at my dearest mother. “Of course, we can continue later.”
The hell you will.
Rose flashes me a look of confusion, but she tags along as I keep pulling her belt loop into the hallway. I check the first door—a storage closet. Then a bathroom. Finally a bedroom. I usher her inside and close the door behind us, locking it. I don’t care if people talk, but I won’t have anyone barge in for this.
“What the?—”
I move away from the door and lean against the adjacent wall, folding my arms. “No, we’re not going to wherever the hell Amber Brown was saying.”
“But…” Her eyebrows do a whole lot of working for a moment. “She’s clearly the head honcho of the WAGs. I need to play nice with her.”
“You don’t need to do shit.” I huff and it deflates my chest. “First of all, you won’t have to hang out with them long, remember?”
Once again, she mirrors the exact way I stand, except there’s no wall behind her to lean on. “I want to be polite.”
“That is the worst thing you can be to a narc.”
“A what?”
“A narcissist.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m saying this for your own sake, Rosalina. Steer clear of people with dead eyes and fake smiles.” This comes out a lot harsher than I wish, and I’m sure it’ll raise her hackles.
But it doesn’t.
Her shoulders droop slightly and she tilts her head, studying me. “You’re legitimately worried about this.”
