Page 33 of Sliding Into Love
Holy shit, Ethan needed to get a grip because the innocuous words sounded incredibly suggestive on her lips.
Ethan wondered if she’d said it on purpose. He hoped she had.
“Chocolate soufflé straight out of the oven with fresh whipped cream,” he replied without having to think about it.
“Yes! That! That’s mine too! I’ve never eaten chocolate soufflé, though. I tried to make whipped cream once, except it turned into butter. But we’ve already discussed my love of butter, so it worked out! Warm chocolate soufflé, though, mmm.”
The moan Ethan had first heard her make while eating came through the speaker, and he imagined her eyes rolling back in bliss.
He wondered what it would take for Ivy to moan for him.
“I can make that for you too?” His breath caught.
“Really? I’ve seen the Great British Bake Off. It’s tricky!”
“I took some cooking classes in college.” Ethan shrugged, forgetting Ivy couldn’t see him. “I like it. I don’t cook much anymore because I don’t like to cook just for myself. I’d cook for you, though.”
“That would be nice,” Ivy breathed.
Ethan wondered what her whisper would be like ghosting over his skin.
“I’ve got to go. Janna has to go potty.”
He laughed out loud after she broke the silence.
“Of course, she does. Tell her I said hi.” Ethan was disappointed to go, but duty called them both.
“Yeah! Bye, Ethan.”
Was Ivy as disappointed as Ethan was?
“Bye, Ivy.”
About an hour later, Ethan was in the locker room in his uniform, adjusting the wrapping on his knee when his phone buzzed a few times inside his bag.
He popped a couple of Advil and joined the rest of his teammates as they filed out onto the field for the anthem. An MRI had confirmed that there were no tears, and he’d played with worse than a sore knee. But Ethan was pissed about Marshall playing him despite the injury.
Think of the devil, and he will appear.
Angry eyes burned into the name emblazoned on Ethan’s back as he passed the old man on his way out of the dugout. Ethan ignored whatever the man whispered at him for the first time in years as he stalked toward the mound.
The first pitch flew straight down the center for a strike, and Ethan shifted his weight, trying not to injure himself further. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, focusing on the batter. The new pain helped, but not enough. The first half of the inning passed in a blur as he concentrated on making it through to get a few moments of respite in the dugout.
Ethan made it through six more innings, but during the seventh inning stretch, Dr. Chadna stormed into the dugout and pulled him aside.
“Ford, I thought I told you not to play on that knee.”
“It’s fine.” Ethan resettled his hat on his sweaty hair, looking past the doctor to Marshall, who’d come up behind her.
Dr. Chadna narrowed her eyes at him, glancing between Ethan and Marshall.
“You’re done here. Come with me.” Dr. Chadna grabbed Ethan by the front of his jersey, and with surprising strength for such a small person, dragged him toward the stairs.
“Where the hell are you going?” Marshall pushed himself between Ethan and Dr. Chadna, completely disregarding the doctor.
It was a mistake.
Dr. Chadna spun around, getting in Marshall’s face, shaking her finger at him.
