Or maybe that was all my crazy love for him reflected at me.
“To be honest, in my fantasy, it was a football player, but I can settle.”
He reached for my waist, tickling my side before hauling me onto his lap, our faces so close his breath fanned hot against my chin.
“Well then, I’ll have to make it really good, so you forget everyone but me.”
Silas took my mouth in a hungry kiss. It was deep and dirty, yet somehow so sweet tears pricked my eyes. He slid his hands up and down my thighs, digging his fingers into my hips as he dragged me closer. I whimpered into his mouth as his low groan vibrated against my chest.
“Good?” He rested his forehead against mine, his lips still wet from our kiss as a smile danced across his mouth.
“Not bad,” I teased, pressing my mouth to his for another slow kiss. My toes curled in my sneakers when his tongue slid against mine. I didn’t want this kiss, this moment, or this weekend to end.
Instead of losing myself in Silas, I’d found who I really was—and who I could be if I stopped letting old fears get in the way.
CHAPTER THIRTY
SILAS
“Aren’tyou supposed to be inside?” I called out to Rachel as I tried to balance my umbrella against the wind and rain. A wave of brutal heat had given way to massive thunderstorms all throughout the city. We’d managed to land on time, but the worst of it seemed to hit just as I parked my truck around the corner from Rachel’s house.
She swirled around, her gorgeous eyes lighting up when they met mine. She was soaked from her shorts to her sneakers as she jogged to me across the puddles on the sidewalk.
“So much for a welcome-home barbecue,” she said, gripping her umbrella in one hand and fisting my T-shirt with the other to pull me in for a kiss too wet and deep to be outdoors, especially when we weren’t supposed to be seen together. But the sheets of rain and large umbrellas gave us enough shelter for a good hello.
“It’s okay. Indoor grilling is fine.”
“No, it’s not,” she muttered, her beautiful mouth pulling into a frown. “Taylor and I were so pumped to finally have someone use the barbecue who knew how, but the charcoal we put in last night is already soaked. Hot dogs and hamburgers on the stove don’t hit the same.” She held up the bag. “I ran out to get the hot dog buns we forgot. My sister is upstairs, making this big pastasalad for you, so just tell her how good it is, no matter how it comes out.”
“I’m sure it’s great. We have until early fall to use the grill.” I tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear. It had been almost two weeks since I’d seen her, and I’d been going out of my mind. I’d grill and sit in the rain as long as I’d be next to her.
“We got you an apron and everything,” she said, curling an arm around my waist. “Maybe you can wear it later.”
I laughed when she popped her brows.
“So, you have a chef fantasy too? I mean, that’s fine, just making sure I keep up.”
She shoved my chest and pulled on my soggy shirt sleeve. “Let’s get upstairs. My feet are soaked and gross, and I’m starving.”
I followed her inside, shaking the rain out of my hair and my umbrella before I set it down next to her front door.
“What?” I asked when I caught her staring.
“You look good wet.” She shrugged, her gaze drifting over me as a smile curved her lips. “Can’t help it if I notice.”
I stalked over to where she waited at the bottom of the inside stairs.
“I always love you wet, but that’s for later.” I swatted her denim-covered ass. “Get upstairs so we can eat with your sister.”
Her giggle was music to my ears and frayed nerves. The Bats were having their best season on record, but the closer we inched toward a possible play-off spot, the more pressure settled into my chest. I was constantly checking on the guys and making sure they didn’t have any injuries they weren’t telling me about.
Nate insisted his shoulder had never felt better whenever I’d catch him wince at the plate. He was making contact more than striking out, and Lee had been keeping a close watch, but I had a bad feeling Nate had been holding back about how much pain he was really in.
Which was what I had to do with all this anxiety. In my playing days, I’d just go extra hard if I suspected anyone on my team wasn’t feeling right to make up for it, but as I was the manager and not an active participant in the games, I had to just watch. It was frustrating enough to make my skin itch from the dugout.
I ran into Rachel’s back when she stopped short.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, fear and anger lacing the tone of her voice.
