Page 16 of Imperfect Player

One night with a woman without sex is one thing, albeit a very rare thing for me. More than that? A fucking joke. Hell, more than one night with anyone, really. I’m not much for relationships, platonic or otherwise. Hell, I’m not much for people. The only things that have been in my life on an extended regular basis are my teammates and the mutt currently licking my face.

“Ugh, Baker, stop,” I say with a laugh as I swat him away.

His insistence tells me that his bowl is empty, which means I need to get my ass out of bed and feed him.

“All right, all right,” I say, sitting up in the bed.

I pick up my phone again and delete the text that I can’t send. Won’t send.

Yes, my fingers did the talking last night when they texted her. Apparently they wanted more than just a hello or they wouldn’t have written the words that they did, the ones inviting her over. And yes, I’m talking about me, not actually my fingers. It’s me. I’m the one that wants more. More of her skin. More of her closeness. More of . . . her.

Every damn piece, when all I ever wanted before was a warm body to bury myself in.

As if on cue, the damn cell rings in my hand, startling me, making me grateful I hit delete just moments earlier.

The number is unknown.

Even though I wouldn’t normally answer an unknown number, a small part of me can’t help but hope that it’s Everly. Hadn’t I already put all her numbers in my phone though? Still, that sliver of hope that maybe I messed up a number and this is actually her is enough to get me to pick up.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

Silence.

“Hello?” I say again.

Nothing.

I disconnect the call and ruffle Baker’s head before getting out of bed to feed him. While I tell myself that it must have been a wrong number or one of those irritating bot calls, I can’t help but get an uneasy feeling from it.

That uneasy feeling doesn’t go away as I take Baker for his morning walk, or when I arrive at practice.

In fact, the call has left me so out of sorts that when Maddox smacks my back, I jump.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you today?” he asks with a chuckle.

“I think I may have scorned the wrong woman,” I say, a smirk on my face.

“All the women you ‘date’ are ‘wrong,’ so yeah, probably. Something happen?”

“No. Just a weird call this morning. Unknown number, that sort of thing. Typical crazy behavior.”

Maddox points his finger at me. “One day you’re going to learn.”

“Like you did?” I toss back at him.

His eyes narrow as he glares at me. He knows exactly what I’m referring to. Based on the look on his face, it’s too soon for the joke.

“I retract my statement.”

“Damn right you do.”

“Field, now!” the coach yells from the doorway that leads to the field.

As I head toward the door, his hand presses to my chest to stop me from walking through. He doesn’t speak, just takes me in, in what I assume is a fatherly fashion. Eyes imploring, studying, worrying. He’s making sure I’m okay.

I offer him an easy smile. Smiles, something that has come a little quicker ever since I met Everly. Not that I’ll ever admit that to Maddox. Or Everly, for that matter.

“I’m good, Coach. Really.”

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