Page 21 of Small Town Frenzy
With his eyes locked on mine, he says, “I’m gonna hit a homer for you.” It’s the cluck of his tongue that breaks the spell he almost put me under. I’m surprised he didn’t wink.
“I bet that line works well for you.” I try not to scowl, but I fear I’m failing. “Give me a ballpark figure. Each game, how many women did you promise to hit a homer for when you were in the majors?”
He chuckles, glancing down and rubbing his thumbover his bottom lip. Looking back up, I’m hit with those eyes that I couldn’t get enough of once upon a time. But I’ve grown up and know a line when I hear one. “A few.” He doesn’t even have the gall to feel shame over that confession.
“Did it work?”
“Like a charm every time.”And there’s the wink.
“I had no doubt. Go win today.” I walk inside the small hall of offices here at the stadium, letting the door close behind me, then drop my back against it. From the way he looks into my eyes like I’m the only other person who exists, that wry grin that supports the arrogance he can back up in bed and on the field, to the way he carries himself like shame is the last thing he’s ever felt, I’m still, apparently, a sucker for a hot guy. And to give credit where it’s due, he’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. Damn him.
I take a deep breath and force myself forward. I can’t stop thinking about him and how easy it would be to fall again. I won’t, not even for one more night. I’m just lonely in that department, so even scraps have me salivating.
After tucking my purse into my desk, I pocket my lip gloss and slip my glasses onto my head, so I’ll actually be able to watch the game instead of just making out figures on the field. I lock the door behind me and start for the stands, where I need to find Savvy. With my eyes shadowed by my hand from the bright sunshine, I do a quick scan.
The owner’s box is nice, but we prefer to be closer to the action and love the energy of the crowd. That’s not something the folks being served fancy hors d’oeuvres with flights of wine from our private label seem to have.
A beer, a hot dog, and the occasional crowd wave are much more entertaining. And because I have the best friend in the world, Savvy has already set me up by the time I find her. “For moi?”
“Oui.” She grins, but as soon as her eyes land on me, her jaw drops. “Va. Va. Voom,” she replies, looking me over.
I don’t know if I should take the compliment or be self-conscious. Looking down at my cleavage, I find it’s debatable. “Yeah. I wanted to ask you about this jersey?—”
“I ordered a size down . . .” Looking around to see if anyone is eavesdropping, she cups her hand on the side of her mouth and whispers, “Or two, so it would show off what the good lord gave ya. But holy sexiness, Crick.” She laughs under her breath. “I’m glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be fuming.”
“He would, but how did you think I’d react?” I sit beside her. “So you plot a plan out to purposely sabotage the fit of my shirt for this family-friendly fundraiser for high school sports for some reason, but then when said planworks, I’m lucky my dad didn’t show up? Got it.” I shake my head. “You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving boss, or you’d be fired.”
“Fired for creating a smoke show in the stands?” Her casual shrug and half smirk aren’t doing her any favors. “And let’s state the facts, ma’am. You didn’t have to wear it, but here you and the girls are in all your glory. So how upset can you really be?”
I face forward, my hackles up from being called out like that. “Oh my God. I can’t with you.” She’s not wrong, though. I had choices, but I still wore it like I didn’t.
She bursts out laughing. “You do look incredible, if that makes a difference.”
“It does, and,” I start, readjusting on the seat cushion. “I needed the boost today.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
Her shoulders pop up, then fall again. “I knew what youmeant, though.” Pointing at the field, she locks her eyes onto her man in uniform. “Now shhhh. The show’s starting.”
“What show? The game doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”
“The real show. Warm-up.” Glancing at me, she adds, “It’s my favorite part of the game.”
“It’s not part of the game. It’s the preshow.”
“Exactly. Just take a look for yourself.”
I follow her gaze to her fiancée on the field, but he doesn’t hold my attention for long when the guy near him steals it instead. All six-three of that man is on the ground stretching his legs. With his weight on his hands, he’s leaning forward with his pelvis aimed down. A slow, calculated gyration forward has my throat going dry. When he shifts back and does it again, sweat beads at my hairline. Up. Down. Back and forth. “Oh.” Words elude me. I lick my lips and narrow my eyes for a better look.
Savvy slides my glasses from the top of my head to rest on the bridge of my nose. With a clearer picture, I chuckle when she asks, “See?”
“I most definitely see.”Boy, do I ever.I adjust my glasses to sit properly on my face. When I look back at the field, I swear he’s staring right at me. It’s not his eyes that get me. It’s the heat emanating from him across the field to me. I glance down at the cup of beer next to me, then pick it up to chug some down. Alcohol probably isn’t the best way to cool down, but it’s worth trying.And the distraction I need.
I don’t know why or how he affects me so much, but I’m beginning to think that Costa Rica isn’t so far behind us that it isn’t worth a revisit.Good lord, Cricket!
Absolutely not.“Jesus.” I use the back of my hand to wipe my forehead. “I might need to?—”
