I erupt into a fit of giggles, and his lip twitches, most likely from trying to keep his frown in place.
“I got an alert that you got my package.”
Oh. “That was from you?” I bend over to pick up the envelope and pull out the contents inside.
“It’s not as pretty as the one you grabbed up north, but I thought…” He shrugs, not finishing his thought.
I look down at the handful of postcards from Miami and smile brightly at the man who sent them. “You know.” My voice takes a teasing tone. “This isn’t how postcards are supposed to work. You need to write a message on the back and then send them in the mail without a fancy overnighted envelope.” I raise a pointed brow.
He huffs. “Well, if you’d turn them around, you’d see that I did write on them. But I sure as hell wasn’t letting anyone read the words that are meant for your eyes only. And I wanted you to get them while I’m still here, not when I’m already back and you’re too busy to read them because my hands are all over your body.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and he smirks at the knowledge of what his words do to me.
I quickly scan the back of the postcards, and sure enough, he did write a short but sweet message on each one. “When did you have the time to do this?”
The man has a jam-packed schedule, and I can’t imagine him strolling down Miami Beach to collect these.
“I grabbed them at the airport when we landed and asked Middlebrooks to ship them for me when he went out to lunch with his mother yesterday.”
I smile as I think of Ace, our resident playboy, having lunch at Versailles, the Cuban restaurant he always takes his mother to when he’s in town. I love knowing that he’s secretly a mama’s boy and only speaks Spanish while he’s in Miami because his mother doesn’t speak much English. I wish he’d show more of that side of himself to the world, but he seems fine letting everyone think he’s just another pretty face.
I reach the last postcard, and a loud laugh escapes my lips as I flip it over to read the message.
“I really didn’t think I wrote anything that funny on any of those,” Luke grumbles.
“Ace shipped these out for you?”
“Yeah, why?” Suspicion laces his tone.
“So I’m guessing this one didn’t come from you?” I lift the card in question.
“I’m going to kill him.”
I continue to laugh as I hold up the postcard with a near naked man covering his privates with his hands, the message across the top saying “Welcome to Miami. Donde todo es muy caliente.” And the chicken scratch note on the back reads “In case you miss Coach too much. Hopefully this will hold you over!”
Luke’s phone shakes as he types.
“What are you doing?” I wipe the tears that have formed around my lash line.
“Sending his ass to the weight room. I want him there from now until our game tonight. If he’s able to lift his arm to throw the ball, then he hasn’t pushed himself hard enough.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? If your player can no longerplay?”
“Depends what you think my purpose is.”
“Luke.”
“Just a second, Daze.”
“Be nice.” I pause. “Please?”
He stops typing and looks back up at me and sighs. “You know I can’t say no to you.” He taps the screen a few more times. “I’ll reel it in. Two hours with our trainers after the game.”
I smile. “How lenient of you.”
“I’m going soft.”
I tap my chin. “Really? Because that’s not how I remember it.”
