Page 17 of Striking Heat
“Sweating like a pig,” I throw back. “Would you like a hug?”
He shakes his head. Danny has on his own pair of Ray Bans, but I’m betting beneath them he’s rolling his eyes at me. I pull out my water bottle and steal another swig of the cold liquid, hoping it cools me down. It’s then that I take a look at Danny. He’s dressed casually today—a pair of gray Nike shorts, a black fitted T-shirt, and Hey Dudes on his feet. Very comfy casual. Which could look frumpy, but on him, it’s effortlessly sexy.
I shake my head, and he snickers. I furrow my brow at him, confused. Is he in my head? Is that his superpower? Can he hear my thoughts?
“I really need a shower, so what’s up, guys?” I hope we can get to the point, and I can get on with my day.
“Let’s go up to my dad’s office.”
“Why?” I challenge August.
“Just follow me,” August tosses over his shoulder as he makes his way across the street to the offices for the Blast executives.
“Better do what the boss says,” Danny teases as he gestures for me to follow next.
I’m seething. I feel like I’m being set up for something and I hate it.
Chapter Nine
~DANNY~
Mac is so pissed off and I love it. I can practically hear her seething as she follows August. I motioned for to go first to add some fuel to that fire and because I wanted to check out her ass in those shorts. They’re navy-blue and look like they might be team issued, along with her yellow tank with the Blaze logo stretched across her breasts. She has them rolled, showing off her gorgeous set of legs. I wonder for a moment what they would feel like wrapped around my waist, or better yet, my neck as I eat her pussy.
I have to stop thinking this way or I’m going to have to adjust myself. I clear my throat, and she turns and looks in my direction.
“Do you need water or something?” she asks, dropping back to walk beside me.
“I am a little parched.” I grin in her direction.
“That’s just too bad. I’m not sharing.”
“Yeah, you really are a brat.”
“You’re calling me a brat?” She giggles and it’s the most wonderful sound.
I want to make her do it again.
I’ve gotta stop looking at her like this. I can’t write about her subjectively if I’m having these thoughts.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I tell her quietly. That wasn’t what was on the tip of my tongue, but it’s what came out of my mouth.
“Okay.” She shoots me a questioning look. She knows that’s not what I meant to say.
I shake my head, hoping to shake off the funk. I need to stay sharp for what’s coming.
“So, what’s this about?” she asks. “Are you like, suing the team or something? Do you have a concussion?”
I grin in her direction. “That might explain last night’s actions, if I did.”
She flushes. The little mouthy vixen flushes. This just might be fun.
“You’re lucky he’s not suing the team.” August makes himself known in our walk to see his father.
“I barely hit him,” she defends herself.
“You mean you can put more spin on that ball?” I ask. “I would love to see that. I don’t believe you’ve done that yet this season.”
Her head snaps in my direction, mouth hanging open. “It’s only been two games, and I think I had some spin on it the other night. I put some in the net.”
