Page 48 of The Hard Hitter

She folds her arms and grins at me. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes,” she says, and my stomach flips, happier about her joining us than I should be.

“I’ll let you know when we’re done,” she says. “Not too much longer.”

I glance back at Katrina, who’s still scowling at the door, even after Sam disappeared through it. Funny, in the past, I would have gone for a girl like Katrina. Tall, thin, dressed in barely there clothes. But man, after getting a taste of Sam, the sweet girl next door, and sinking my teeth into her curves, I have no idea how I’ll go back to the swarm of puck bunnies, ready and willing to fuck any hockey player simply because of his stature.

Maybe I was getting away from that anyway. My last girlfriend wasn’t a bunny, and I cared a great deal for her—until she up and ran away because she wasn’t ready for a family. In the end, I guess I don’t blame her. It’s a hard thing to put on any woman.

“You and Sam,” she begins, and narrows her eyes like she can’t quite believe it. “You’re a couple.”

“Yeah, we’re a couple,” I fib, but goddammit, there’s a part of me that really wants that.

“How well do you know her?”

“Not well. You?”

“Well enough,” she says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll let you figure that out.” With that, she saunters away, giving an extra shake to her backside. But I’m not interested, so I turn my attention to gathering up my tools.

I reload my trunk, go back inside to splash some water on my face, and tug my shirt back on. I leave the bathroom just as Sam and Daisy come from the office.

“Daddy,” Daisy yells. “I love soup!”

My head rears back. “Daisy, I love soup too,’ I say, and we both laugh. I glance at Sam.

“We tried some new exercises today and she’s making great progress.”

My stomach tightens at that. While I’m happy about the progress, it also means that my time with Sam could be up sooner rather than later, and that doesn’t sit right with me.

“Ice cream,” Daisy yells.

“All set?” I ask Sam.

“Let me grab my purse.” She darts to the kitchen, then locks the door behind us. We pile into my car, and we head to Sweets. Daisy sings loudly in the backseat to some song playing on her kids’ iPad. I wince and turn to Sam. “She has her father’s voice.”

Sam laughs and her hand slides across the seat, tangles with mine, and I give hers a little squeeze, loving her with us like this. A short while later, I park, and we walk to Sweets. We all get our ice cream and head to the park. Daisy licks her ice cream and darts to the slide.

“Careful, kiddo,” I say, and take seat at the bench to keep an eye on her. Sam settles herself beside me, and every time she pokes her tongue out to take a lick, my dick twitches in my pants.

Needing a distraction—now is certainly not the time to be sporting a hard-on—I engage her in conversation. “I take it you and Katrina aren’t friends.”

“What makes you say that?

“Daddy look. Daddy look!” Daisy says, as she goes down the small plastic slide, dripping ice cream cone in hand. I wave to her and turn back to Sam.

“She alluded that you had other men helping you fix the place up.”

She laughs at that. “Yeah, my sixty-year-old father. Does he qualify as other men?” She shakes her head and continue

s with, “She’s one of the mean girls, Zander. You know, popular in high school, and now queen bee of the neighborhood. I never hung out with girls like her back then, and I don’t now, either. I wasn’t popular, or…”

“Mean.”

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