Page 59 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

sophie

“Soph? You okay?”

We’ve made it into the lobby of my apartment building, but I can’t seem to release myself from his body. My arms are wrapped around his neck so tightly that I’m surprised he’s not choking.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice shaking. “Give me a second, okay?”

“Take all the time you need,” he whispers as he strokes my soaking-wet hair. I’m not sure what happened to the batting helmet. It must have flown off at some point.

I finally release my death grip on his neck and look at him.

“Are you crying?” he says softly. “Soph, we’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

I nod as I wipe my face. “You’d think after living here for eight years I’d be used to hurricanes.”

He lowers me to the ground. “The eye of the hurricane is well north of us. It’s a crazy storm, but you’ll be fine. C’mon. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Will you stay here tonight?” I say, touching his arm.

“What?” He lifts my chin. His eyes are imploring me for more context.

“I mean, you can’t drive home, Seb,” I say quickly. “It’s too dangerous. Just stay here. I have a guest bedroom.”

“I can stay here, but I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I think you’re the one who’s going to be uncomfortable,” I say, smiling. “The guest bedroom has a queen-sized bed. I’m not sure how well you’re going to fit on it.”

“I’ll be fine. C’mon. Let’s get dried off. You’re shaking.”

* * *

“What? I look good,” Seb says as he walks out of the guest room, wearing a sheet like a toga. His clothes are in the dryer.

“I’m not saying you don’t.” I hold up wine and beer to give him a choice. He points to the beer. “It’s definitely your look, but you could wear some of the clothes Sam left over here.”

“I’m not wearing that asshole’s clothes.” He sits at my kitchen counter and takes a long drink from his beer. “And we’re getting rid of all that clothes tomorrow. Pack it up. I’ll burn it for you.”

“Or maybe give it to Goodwill—”

“They don’t take asshole clothes.” His eyes aren’t blinking. “You still have a thing for him or something?”

“Not even a little bit. I just haven’t had time to get rid of his stuff.”

“Does he still call you?”

“Not since Maisie shut him down.” I laugh into my wine glass. “She showed up at his work and tore him a new one in front of all of his colleagues.”

“She’s pretty little to be your enforcer.”

“She grew up with all brothers—we both did. We had to get tough pretty early in life.”

“You don’t seem too tough to me.”

“Don’t let my performance from tonight fool you. Hurricanes are about the only things that scare me. And stuff being thrown at me, although not anymore.”

“And air turbulence and toothpicks.”

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