Page 68 of Offside

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I’m here so late, but there’s something I need to say to you.”

I shift from one bare foot to another. “Yeah? What’s that?”

An amused smile forms on his lips. “Do you really want me to say it from your sidewalk?”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Karis…let me in, please and I’ll tell you.” He holds up a bag of Skittles in front of the camera. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I laugh and consider for only a moment telling him to go away. “Hmm…I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Not too bad, I hope.

I buzz down to security to let him in and then quickly hustle around to put away the work I left out on my coffee table. I’m not wearing much outside of pj’s but there’s no time to do anything about it, so I just do a quick check of my hair in the hallway mirror.

My reflection startles me.

I’m a mess. Makeup-free with disheveled hair and the bags under my eyes look like bowling balls. If I had time, I’d run into the bathroom to at least brush my teeth. But none of that matters because the front door buzzes now.

I suppose it serves him right. If he’s going to show up at my doorstep in the wee hours of the morning, he’s going to see me looking like this. I swing the door open and gasp.

Not only does Ballas have an egg-sized bruised lump on his forehead, but there’s a bloodstain on his shirt.

“Good heavens. I hope the other guy looks better than you.” I yank at his arm and pull him into the entryway, then close and lock the door again.

I spin around, about to give him the riot act, only to find he’s not even there. He’s walking through the living room, past the pool table, and toward the stocked bar.

“Ballas, what are you doing?”

“I need a drink,” he states as he pours a whisky into a lowball glass next to the decanter. “Want one?”

Padding toward him, I place my hands on my hips.

“The last thing you should be doing is drinking more tonight,” I preach, cringing at how sanctimonious I sound. He whirls around, his eyes full of amusement.

“After the week I’ve had, and what I plan to say to you, I need this.” He knocks it back and sets the empty glass back on the table.

I walk over to the couch and plop down on the corner, folding my legs under my butt as I sit.

“Okay, you’ve had your drink. It’s late, so let’s hear it. Otherwise, I’m heading to bed. I’m scheduled to meet early tomorrow with an extremely bull-headed man. You might know him.”

He snickers as he takes in what I’m wearing. Or rather, not wearing. His eyes darken as they sweep over my breasts, and I cross my arms just to spite him, but it doesn’t stop the thread of awareness that spreads through my body.

Without any further discussion, Ballas looks me directly in the eyes and begins to explain his unannounced visit.

“Karis, I was wrong.” His features soften with the apology. “I’m sorry I am such an idiot and an asshole.”

I expel a shaky puff of air from my lungs. This man—this tough, growly, proud man—is standing before me to offer me his sincere apology. It couldn’t be better even if he got down on his knees and begged for my forgiveness.

Then, to my utter surprise, he does just that.

In three long strides, he’s in front of me and kneels so he’s at my level, his gorgeous gray eyes swimming with sincerity.

Ballas takes my hands and holds them lightly in his.

My heart lurches in my chest and my stomach flips cartwheels from his touch.

“Can you be more specific? That’s kind of an everyday occurrence.” I give him a teasing smile and he huffs out a laugh.

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