Page 11 of Wild Hit
Slowly, I drag my attention back to the front where Miguel Machado is watching me with some curiosity, and no obvious interest in suing the pants out of me.
I clear my throat, scrambling for some sense of normalcy, and say, “You really blended the concealer well.” Then I cringe. Of all possible conversation topics, why did I choose that one? “Or your wife, I mean. You probably don’t know anything about makeup.”
His lips draw into a smile that forces back laughter. “I don’t have a wife and my daughter’s toy makeup kit wasn’t good enough, so I actually had to get my makeup done professionally.” He pauses for a moment, grinding me to a stop as well, and looks off into the distance. “Wow, that’s a sentence I never knew would come out of my mouth. And I’m a girl dad—I’ve worn tutus.”
He catches himself, eyes widening like he can’t believe all that just came out of his mouth.
“Hmm.” I press my lips. “Debating whether to tease you or allow you to keep your dignity since you’ve been nice to me.”
“I would absolutely tease me if I was you.” His face stretches into a full grin of contagious proportions.
Using my vast reserves of willpower to stay serene, I say, “You said tutus, meaning that this happened more than once?”
A snort from Miguel turns into a full blown laugh. “And here I thought you were gonna ask me what color it was.”
I narrow my eyes in thought. “Definitely pink. Purple would wash out your complexion.”
“It was black, actually. My daughter is kind of goth.” He displays his pearly whites and dimples appear on his cheeks. They’re more like the bracket kind than the dots one. “By the way, we haven’t formally introduced each other.”
“If we shake hands the vultures will know we’re complete strangers but hi, I’m Audrey Winters, nice to meet you.”
Miguel tips his head. “Likewise, or better now that you’re no longer causing me bodily harm.”
“I could still change my mind,” I add offhand.
Ignoring that, he asks, “By the way, you never answered my question.” I raise my eyebrows in confusion, and he explains, “Last week, when I asked if you knew me because you were a fan.”
“Oh. That.” I cringe a little. “I assure you I’m not a stalker. The truth is that I’m?—”
“Audrey.”
The new voice makes us stop dancing at the same time, and that’s when I notice a few odd things. First, that the song must’ve changed at some point already. Just how long have we been dancing?
And second, that I lost sight of the most important self-preservation tactic of the night. The biggest threat wasn’t my ex-classmates, but my dad, and now he’s right next to me and I’m trapped in a man’s arms—arms that are made of steel and heat, not likely to pry away easily if I try to run away.
Also, how pathetic would that look? It’s not like I’m some Cinderella.
Sighing, I face my progenitor. “Dad.”
This perks Miguel’s attention. “Dad?”
“I see you’ve met my daughter,” the older man says. “And perhaps I should also thank you for helping me locate her.”
“Is that what you were doing?” I slide a suspicious look at Miguel, but dude looks confused.
“That’s news to me.”
I don’t know why this is the moment when he decides to release me. His hand slides off my back and he steps back a polite distance, not that we were grinding on each other oranything, but definitely like he doesn’t want my dad to think something’s going on.
Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks, Miguel looks first at my dad and then at me, no doubt finding that I have the same nose—girl version—and that I got my hair color from Charlie Cox. “Did I hear different last names, though?”
“It’s a long, boring story.” Dad waves his hand like the topic is unimportant. “She’ll be changing her last name soon anyway, isn’t that so?”
Great. The rash of embarrassment that I had somehow managed to contain is taking over. I regret wearing a dress that keeps the top of my chest and shoulders visible, because not even my loose hair will hide the angry, red splotches.
I brush at my skirt, trying to pretend like that’s enough to rearrange my own thoughts and feels. “You’re right, Dad. Let’s not bore Miguel with those details.”
I don’t know the slugger very well, but the spark in his eye tells me that if he could, he’d grab some popcorn and sit down for the whole tale. No wonder my roommates say he has fit so well with the bunch of goofs that make up the Orlando Wild team.
