Night Games (7 page)

I guess I’m about to find out.

Chapter Ten

Chase

I have to get out of here.

Keith is droning on and on as I run a pen over the front cover of one of his binder-sized menus. Now maybe he’ll be satisfied and I can finally leave. Noah sent a quick text to tell me that she stayed and I don’t want to keep her waiting. She might change her mind and then I’ll be kicking myself from here to next week for not getting my ass out the door sooner.

“You sure you’re not interested in Gabbi? I could call her. Tell her to come back. Or have her meet you at the hotel.” Keith has his hand on my shoulder like we’re best buds. He’s been pimping this girl out to me all night, but I’m not interested. I have someone much better right outside the door, if I could only get out of this damn tiki bar.

“Nah, that’s all right, man. I’m beat. I think I’m just going to call it a night. But thanks for the hospitality. How much do I owe you?” I draw my wallet out of my back pocket, but Keith holds up his hands.

“Yeah, right. Like I’m going to charge a future Hall of Famer. Put your money away. It’s no good here.”

“C’mon, I insist.”

“Forget about it. It’s on the house.” Keith slaps me on the back so hard that the jolt sends vibrations through my aching knee. There’s nothing I hate worse than being held hostage by someone who doesn’t want to let me go. Enough is enough. My time away from the field should be my own, but it sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

“Later, man.” I shake Keith’s hand before stepping outside as he tags along behind me.

“I don’t see Noah around. What’s he driving anyway?” Keith peers over my shoulder, scanning the few vehicles that remain.

I don’t know how I’m going to talk my way out of this. Luckily, the waitress who nearly dumped a tray of silverware on me happens to walk out of the kitchen at that exact moment. Surprised to find us standing there, she looks like she wants to bolt. Scared shitless, she hurries by us with her head down and escapes into the bar area, her braids swaying behind her. I feel bad because I think I keep freaking her out. I should have offered to pick up the scattered forks and knives, but I froze. Instead, I was fixated on that head of luscious ebony hair I was dying to run my fingers through. When the silverware hit the floor, I was too caught up in my daydream before the guy at the bar beat me to the punch.

“I’m going to give that girl a piece of my mind,” Keith fumes, hustling after her. “No way is she going to get away with that stunt she pulled earlier. She needs to apologize to you. Let me go get her. Luanne, come back here. Luanne!”

But I don’t stick around. This is my chance, and I’m taking it. I charge down the wooden steps, my feet clomping against the boards. I don’t stop until I’m standing in the middle of the nearly empty lot. Where is she? Did she leave? Am I too late? I turn around in a circle and try to look inside the darkened cars. It’s too quiet. I’m not used to such stillness after growing accustomed to the never-ending racket of Manhattan.

I just wish I knew her name. I could call out to her. I even learned the damn waitress’s name after hearing Keith yell at her. I run my hand across my brow, knowing that if anyone’s watching, I must look like an idiot. Is this what she wants? To make me work for it after what I did to her?

I bend my head and listen to the crickets chirping next to the moat at the far edge of the property. With a working drawbridge and lighthouse tower, it looks like part of a miniature golf course. Keith’s family certainly extended their brand of tackiness to the outdoor landscaping. They sure know how to make an impression for all the wrong reasons. I can’t believe I signed that menu for him. He’ll probably put it on the wall next to the ones autographed by Pee Wee Herman and Weird Al Yankovic.

I amble backward, closing my eyes when I hear a faint murmur from the far side of the building. It sounds like a bunch of animated voices, and I pick up fragments of my name through the intermittent bursts of conversation. Shit, there must be a pack of fans waiting to pounce. They didn’t give up. They’re still around—probably Jimmy and his gang. It’s time for me to bounce. If only I had a ride…

Suddenly, a pair of headlights turns on directly in front of me.

I freeze. It’s her. It has to be.

Slowly, I raise my eyes and see a shadowy silhouette behind the wheel of a pickup truck that looks like it’s seen better days. The engine chugs to life, and I step back as it pulls up beside me. The window on the passenger’s side starts to lower. I bend down to get a better look at who’s inside, and once again I’m drowning in those chocolate brown eyes.

Her face is level with mine, and I seem to be having a similar effect on her as we stare at each other for a moment. Even if she’s only feeling a fraction of what I’m feeling, it’s enough. I did everything I could to drive her away, but she’s still here, still looking at me like that. I didn’t blow it. I can still make this right.

“Hey.” I smile over at her.

“Hey,” she responds softly, pulling up the knob of the old-fashioned lock.

I waste no time getting in beside her before she can scoot back behind the wheel. I don’t stop. I keep going. My hands are at her waist, lifting her up so I have enough room to sit down. My movements are clumsy and her shirt bunches up around my fingers. A groan escapes my lips as I come in contact with her skin. It’s soft and smooth, and for once I wish I took better care of my hands because she gasps as they chafe roughly against her ribs. She’s right on top of me as I feel her warm breath on my face. I gently lower her off of my throbbing knee, reaching back to shut the door.

I allow my hands to move up her body and into her hair, and I get caught up in her. I want this girl. I want her bad. But this isn’t the time, and it’s certainly not the place. I’m not going to start things off with her like this. She’s different, special even. I didn’t ask her to wait for me in order to use her for sex. I want more than that. But she feels too damn good to stop.

I press my chest flush against hers. Every one of her labored breaths rises and falls with mine. I’m fully on top of her now. She’s looking up at me with her lips parted. I brush a wayward strand of hair off her forehead. Do I really want to do this here? That’s all I need is for us to get caught. I don’t think Keith’s the type who’d sell me out, but who knows? I only just met the guy.

Her legs are spread apart and I’m nestled in between them. It would be so easy. She’s practically panting for me, her fingers kneading the shirt on my back. And she smells so good, not like any kind of perfume I recognize but more like the crispness in the air on a cold winter day—so clean, so pure, so innocent.

I can’t do this. I lean back, my thumbs still stroking the area around her bellybutton where her shirt is riding up. Her stomach is flat and white as snow. My skin looks so dark next to hers. I have to admit that I like how she looks on me. What I wouldn’t give to see all of her stretched out against all of me. I clench my jaw as I offer her a hand to sit up. She blinks at me, stunned. But we have to go. We have to get out of here.

I’m moving too fast. I need to slow things down. I don’t want the first time I kiss her to be a moment I’ll later regret. I can’t screw this up. I want it to be epic. Something she won’t forget. I’ve had too many intoxicated chicks shove their tongues down my throat. That’s not what I want from her. That’s not what I’m after. She has something none of them were ever able to give me—a genuine connection, a spark. I have to be patient and take my time. I can’t ruin whatever this is between us. I’ve been around a lot of women, and she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. She’s something precious, something rare. I can’t be casual about this. I have to get it right. I have to.

“You are such an asshole!”

Smack.

I rear back as her hand connects with my cheek.
Did she just hit me?

“What did you do that for?”

“What? Am I not good enough for you?” she seethes, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair is all mussed and her face is bright red. Despite her anger, I love that I’m the reason she’s all worked up. She’s hot and bothered because of me, not that guy who was hugging her in the bar. Her legs tangle with mine as she tries to get out from under me, and that alone is driving me insane. How the fuck am I supposed to maintain control when she’s doing shit like that to me?

“Just drive.” I’m used to ordering people around, and I automatically revert back to command mode. I want to show her how much I want her, but it’s too dangerous. We’ll get caught, and I don’t want to expose her. She’s my little secret and she’s going to stay that way.

Just then, the front door of the restaurant flies open with a thud as Keith starts shouting my name. The distraught waitress is standing behind him, looking chastised as she plays with the straps of her apron. “Chase, where you at? Luanne has something she’d like to say to you.”

“Get down!” She yanks my shirt. I kind of like how she’s telling me what to do as I bend over, hiding myself from view.

“Chase!” Keith keeps yelling, his voice getting louder. “Chase, is that you in there?”

“Shit. Is he walking toward the truck?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “But I don’t think he saw you.”

“Then floor it.” My eyes twinkle up at her as she tucks her hair nervously behind her ears. She looks so cute when she’s worried.

“You got it,” she says, shifting into drive and hitting the gas. The truck’s tires squeal as she swerves to avoid Keith, who’s now screaming obscenities at her. She flies past him in a blur as Luanne jumps back with a yelp. This girl is badass. I like the way she rolls.

“You stupid bitch!” I hear Keith roar. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She gives him the middle finger and keeps going.

“You better run because I’m calling the cops on your ass!” That’s the last thing I hear Keith say as the mob of fans waiting underneath Buster the crab’s illuminated claws descends upon us, no doubt drawn toward all of the commotion.

“Here. Throw this over your head.” She fumbles behind her, pulling a hoodie out of the back and tossing it at me.

She doesn’t even put her foot on the brake. I grit my teeth as she plows right through the crowd. Fists thump against the side of the truck, but I don’t think she actually hits anyone. I hear startled voices above me, but thankfully no one notices me crouched on the floor, even as some of them get pretty close to the window.

“He’s not even in there!” a woman whines. “I saw that girl in the bar. She must be a decoy. He’s probably slipping out the back. C’mon, maybe we can still catch him!”

She breathes a sigh of relief as they change direction, creating an opening for her to drive through. She guns the engine, retaking the road and flying around a corner.

“Hey, you never told me your name.” My knee is killing me from being bent in this cramped position, but it’ll be worth the extra therapy session I’ll have to do tomorrow.

“It’s Grey. Grey Kelleher. But don’t bother me now. I have to concentrate on my driving.”

I’m at the same level as her bare legs, and her shorts are high up on her thighs. I try not to look, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. She’s driving with both feet, one hovering over the brake, the other on the gas. I’ve never seen anyone drive like that before.

Shadows are whizzing by, reminding me just how fast she’s going. “You can probably slow down now,” I mutter from underneath her hoodie. It’s soft and feels lived in. But best of all, it smells like her. As I pull it off my head, I try not to notice the Kings logo on the front. Most girls aren’t into sports. I don’t want to get my hopes up that she might actually know a thing or two about the game.

“You think?” she asks, turning her head when I grunt and try to hoist myself back onto the seat.

My knee is on fire, so I grab the door handle to pull myself up by my arms. I grimace, flexing it once I’m sitting next to her again. This is not good. If it’s as swollen as I think it is, I might not even be able to play short tomorrow. I’ll probably be stuck DH’ing, and the Kings’ front office isn’t going to like it one bit. It’ll be another setback to my recovery and one they weren’t anticipating.

“They shouldn’t have you rehabbing on turf. It’s not right.” Grey’s eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away.

“And what would you know about it?” I don’t mean to sound so irritated, but she’s running hot one minute then cold the next. But if I’m being completely honest, I guess so am I. “Don’t worry. Being slapped by you took my mind off it.”

“You deserved it,” she huffs, but I can’t tell if she’s mad because I tried to kiss her or because I didn’t. “And I might not be a professional baseball player, but I do know that playing on an artificial surface isn’t good for a joint injury. I saw what happened to Manny Rogers when he got his cleat stuck in the rug in Minnesota. He was never the same after that.”

“You remember that? That was like…four years ago.”

“Yeah, I remember it. I never miss a game, unless I have to work.”

“What do you do?”

She pauses for a minute, like she’s unsure about whether or not she wants to tell me. I wait her out. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.

“I’m in retail.”

“That’s pretty vague.”

I don’t know why but I like badgering her. I hope I’m not annoying her, but I’m enjoying this game of give and take we have going on. For once, I’m interested and engaged in a conversation with a woman, not distant and aloof. She’s squabbling back and forth with me like we’re on an equal playing field. To her, I’m not Chase Whitfield. I’m just some guy, pestering the heck out of her. Even if what I’m really trying to do is get her to flirt with me.

“I fondle men’s underwear all day long. Is that specific enough for you?”

“Very. Think you can hook me up with some? I should really stock up while I’m here since I never have time to shop.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding. I could use your professional advice. What do you think? Am I a boxers or a briefs kind of guy?”

“Well, since I read your interview in
GQ
, I already know the answer to that.”