Page 93 of West Bound

“Um, well. I just…I need to talk to you for a second, if you can.” She weaves her fingers together nervously and I gulp.

This is it. She’s going to end it. And right after I got a fucking tattoo for her.

“Sure,” I tell her through gritted teeth and a stiff jaw.

“Okay. Here it goes.” She takes a few quick breaths in and out then closes her eyes and rattles off, “doyouwanttomoveinwithme? I know you’re living in the hotel but not, because you’re always at my place and most of your stuff is there and you said you were going to start looking for your own place but maybe you just live with me or at least stay there until you find your own and quit wasting money even though I know you have a shit load but even rich peop–” I grip her jaw in my hand and tug her to me until my lips are clamped tightly to hers.

Just a second ago I was feeling sick to my stomach thinking that we were over. And now I’m standing, kissing my girl who just asked me to move in with her. What a fucking day.

Her dainty arms wind their way around my neck and I lift her off the ground squeezing tight around her waist. I hear some whistles and catcalls from around us, but I’m so lost in my girl that I can’t bring myself to care about anything else.

My hand moves to hold the back of her head and I begin walking us towards the dugout.

“Hey, um, guy. Viv is still holding the mic,” her cameraman says.

I reach behind me and grab the mic cord and snap it out of her hands, tossing it to him and never breaking our connection.

“Phoenix, you need to put me down. I need to help Luis,” she mumbles and I eat her words.

“Nope. We’re going to the showers. I need to fuck you now.” She pushes on my chest and begins to wiggle her legs. “Okay, okay.”

I stop and put her down and see that we’re halfway between home plate and first base, and plenty of fans are still around, filming us with their ever ready phones.

She straightens her blouse and runs her fingers through her stands of fire, and I run my thumb across her lips that are smudged with lipstick.

“Red’s your color, Nixy,” she winks.

I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and come away with streaks of red from Vivian’s lipstick. She laughs and pulls out a napkin from her pocket and begins wiping my face clean.

I stare at her face as her eyes concentrate on cleaning me, and I can’t help the smile that grows.

“Did you really just ask me to move in with you?” My question halts her movements and her eyes freeze on my mouth.

“It’s…so you don’t have to pay for a hotel room. It’s silly since you’re always at my place, ya know,” she says and goes back to wiping my face.

“Only to help me save money, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, Peaches. I’ll move in with you, but only so I can save money.” I watch her bite her lip to hold back a smile and my heart does a victory lap.

“Good.” She makes one last swipe then drops her arms. “Now. Go shower ‘cause you stink and let’s go home. I need food.”

I kiss her cute little pixie nose and repeat, “let’s go home.”

“How are you so good at making cobbler?” Vivian scoops a heaping spoon of peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream into her mouth.

She looks like a dream sitting here on the couch in nothing more than a sports bra and a pair of too big sweatpants rolled at the waist, making her small waist appear to be even slimmer. Her red hair is piled on top of her head in a big, floppy bun, and her eyelashes have been washed of their mascara and shine the same bright red as her hair. In the glow of her lamps, she’s like my little firefly. Freckles, bright eyes and a spitfire attitude.

I stick my tongue out and lick the ice cream that’s dribbled onto her lip. “You forget where I was raised? Momma wouldn’t allow me or Sierra to move out until we both knew how to cook some basic meals and her cobbler. She said it would help Sierra keep a man, and help me hook a gal. Her words, not mine.”

She chuckles and licks the spoon. “Well please thank your momma then ‘cause I’m hooked.” I smile and steal the bite before she can pop it in her mouth. “Hey!”

“Share, baby. Sharing is caring,” I say with a pout.

“This is me caring. I care that you stay in tip-top shape so you can lead the team to a pennant so much that I’m eating all of this for you so as not to be tempted by it. You. Are. Welcome.” She does a bow of her head and scoops another spoonful into her mouth.

“You little brat.” I surge and she falls back onto the couch, cobbler and cold ice cream spilling over her bare stomach.

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