Page 129 of Chasing Headlines
Heat flared and settled at the lowest point of my abdomen. I leaned closer. “Maybe you should tell me about what we did . . . all night. Together.”
Her eyes widened and her complexion went full-on red. I couldn't help but remember her and her see-through shirt . . .
She shoved my shoulder and hissed. “It starts with I didn't strangle you. And ends with you don't wreck your probation due to underaged drinking.”
I groaned.
“But, if you give me about twenty more minutes, I'm pretty sure I can charm your RBF deputy sheriff into helping you get more time to do your community service hours.” She gave me a sidelong glance that was equal parts mischievous, sexy, and concerning . . . and sexy.
“How?”
She shrugged but that little smirky mouth of hers . . . “I'm either a force of nature or cut throat and uncooperative.” She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling and squinted. “Or whatever the opposite of collaborative is?”
“I'm beginning to see that.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. A smile worked its way onto her lips as warm fizzy bubbles floated into my chest. I think I smiled back.
A noise at the door. The handle moved. She surged forward, throwing her arms around my neck—and seized my lips into a searing kiss.
And I'm not entirely sure I didn't black out again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Breslin POV
The doctor placed me on rest for three days. And Milline's story, while enticing to think about, did have one drawback: I had 'crossed the line' and shared details of my (fictional) sex life with my coaches.
Crusty, salty Coach Schorr gave me this indescribable look. He opened his mouth, closed it. Scrunched his face into a cascade of greyish pink wrinkles, with lips. Took off his hat, scrubbed a hand over his 'ever growing forehead'. “The whole time?”
“Sorry what?”
He replaced his cap, shook his head. He pursed his lips together and made a face like he'd just sucked on a lemon. “Never mind. Don't. Just don't tell me a God-damned thing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away muttering under his breath. I sighed.
“You get her pregnant?—”
I lifted my head and found him pointing at me. “There won't be enough of you left for a funeral.” He shook his head and left.
I rubbed a hand over my still-numb forehead.
“Look, I get it.” Eberhardt spoke up. “She's attractive and smart, and I still say she's way outta your league. But if there'sany woman that gets baseball and what it takes to make it at that level, you found her.”
I frowned.What?
“But you've got a lot of years left and not going to the hospital so you could, uh, make it with your girlfriend.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “One day you're going to realize you're not invincible. But either way, be safe.” He held out a foil packet. And a part of me cratered and wanted to die as I took it from his hand.
“Yes, sir.” I tried to keep my face neutral.
“You look good together.”
I held my breath.Maybe we do, hell if I know. We sure as shit don't get along. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The naked, fantasy version of her got along with me just fine.And I'm still an idiot.
“. . . remember when me and my wife were still kids. Kaitlyn, well, she was a sassy spitfire, too. A bit like Liv.” He chuckled. “Still is. Still makes me want to go all night in the bedroom. Mmm, I am proud to have earned every one of my sex trophies.”
I tried not to shudder.Was this really better than jail time?I laid down on the exam room table and wished the man would take a hint.
“Liv's a good one. Got a bit of growing up to do, still. But I see it in her—that loyalty, the way she fights for you. Should've picked up on it before.” He pulled on his Strikers cap. “She's a for-a-lifetime kind of woman. Don't fuck it up.” He turned and headed for the door.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to breathe.The way she fights for me?I swallowed, lifted my head and managed: “Thanks.”