"Pub crawling at UT."
"Did you play ball?" I take a sip of the giant water, which is almost gone.Go me!
"I did. Wasn't quite good enough to play pro, so when a coaching job opened back home--here--I decided to take it. I taught some high school kids for extra money through college and found out I really like it. How come you never did this in college?" He flicks his chin toward my drink. "Why do it now?"
My head cocks. "I take it you didn't have strict parents."
Something shutters behind his eyes. "My grandma raised me, and she trusted me with anything. Everything. She didn't give a shit what I did as long as I stayed out of trouble. Your parents are strict?"
His grandma raised him? What happened to his parents? It doesn't feel right to ask, so I save it for another time and answer his question. "They're just…"Needy? Overbearing? Controlling?"Overprotective. It's weird because, well, we're friends, despite that they've been insufferable since I moved away. But at the time, I didn't mind all that much. I didn't usually have anywhere to go wherethiswas happening--my high school friends were home schooled like me, and my college friends were librarians. But yeah, they didn't let me out much. They even got me to stay home through college because they'd only pay for it if I lived with them."
This time, that thundercloud draws a shadow across his face. "They what?"
"It's not as bad as it sounds."
One dark brow rises.
"I mean, it sucks, but where was I gonna go? I didn't have to work and go to school. I had a free place to stay and home cooked meals. And like I said--my parents are my friends too." He doesn't look convinced, but I'm not sure I'm capable of convincing him of anything in the state I'm in. "Anyway, I'm glad I'm doing it now. I don't …" I glance down at my fingers as they play with the hem of the opposite cardigan sleeve. "I don't want to be boring. I don't want to be the girl who never did anything. I want to try new things. Like beer, even though it smells nasty, or weed!"
I must have said it a little loud--a couple of people glance over. But I giggle a little before it fades again.
"I'm glad to be out of their house so I can travel and eat weird foods and come to The Horseshoe and get hammered on fancy lemonade. Buy my own house, make my own way. I want experiences, you know? Like being drunk or falling in love, though I'm not sure what that's supposed to feel like either. I've never even been kissed, can you believe that?!" I blurt it out soeasily, I cannot look at him out of embarrassment. I take a sip of my drink to stop myself from saying anything else and end up draining it.You just told him that. You just told Wolf Daddy you've never been kissed. Out loud. With words.By the time I set the empty glass on the table, I've gotten myself together and smile at him. "Anyway, my point is, I'm doing the damn thing, all because of you. So thanks again."
I still cannot look at him, but I feel the weight of his gaze on me, so heavy it has me sweating. I pull off my cardigan, chuckling.
"Man it's hot in here. I need to pee." I'm slipping off the stool, and he grabs my elbow to steady me. But I'm twisting away, still avoiding his eyes, desperate to see if I can find my dignity in the bathroom. "Be right back!" I sing.
But no amount of air can cool me off.
CHAPTER 9
BURGLAR BAIT
GREY
The way I'm staring at her as she walks toward the restrooms is probably illegal in at least a couple of states.
Never been kissed.Never been kissed?How in the holy fuck has she never been kissed? Did her parents lock her up? They would have had to.
And then.And then. She took off that baggy cardigan to reveal the absolute rocket of a body. Every curve, the swells of her generous breasts, her bra thin enough that the hard tips of her nipples are visible. The way it took every stitch of my will not to full on stare at her chest?
Illegal. Straight to jail.
I can't think about it anymore. I'm not allowed to think about it. Ever. So I start reciting baseball facts from the eighties, when I was a kid and she wasn't even fucking born. She's not even from mycenturyfor fuck's sake.
Jose Canseco, forty-two homers and one twenty-four RBI, .307. Wade Boggs, .366. Roger Clemens, two hundred ninety-one strikeouts.
It goes on this way for a while, long enough that I start to wonder after her. But she's five drinks in, and it's well after one. I've seen her nearly eat shit half a dozen times just in the last half hour, and if we stay, she's going to want to keep drinking. So I gather her things and head to the hall where the restrooms are just as Molly exits. I lock onto her eyes and promise myself that's where they'll stay.
"I'm ready for another drink, Coach!"
"Bar's closing soon, peaches, and you're five drinks deep. Time to head home."
She pouts dramatically. "Aw, man! You even said the codeword , dangit."
I hand her the cardigan, and she starts to walk toward the mouth of the hallway as she pulls it on.
I thought it couldn't get worse than discovering the curves I've learned are under her baggy clothes. That is, until she steps in front of me, and I see that her skirt is caught in the back of her tights. And there I find the sweetest ass I have ever seen in my whole entire fucking life.
