Heath cuffs him on the back of head. “Show some respect.”
“No hitting the children, H.” Heath’s wife, Grace, grins at him and plants a kiss on his cheek as he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her onto his lap.
Heath nuzzles into Grace’s neck, and something that feels an awful lot like jealousy claws at my insides. Not because I want Heath’s girl. Don’t get me wrong, she’s gorgeous—blonde hair, blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, typical California girl—but she’s not the reason I’m jealous. I’m jealous because, for the first time in my life, I want that attention and affection with someone.
Not just anyone. Savannah.
I want Savannah to hiss and swat at me like a feral kitten so I can tie her hands behind her back and fuck her into orgasmic submission.
My cock jerks in my jeans in agreement. Like the psycho I’ve become, I glance at my phone and double-check the security cameras in the parking garage. There’s still no sign of Savannah. She’s probably working the late shift.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey,” we all reply flatly, and Heath glares at us as Grace pats his chest.
Lance has more manners, but he knows Heath and Grace better than I do. He tips his chin and greets her. “Hey, Gracie. How areyou tonight?”
“I’m good. Thank you for asking, Lance.”
“Good to hear.”
Grace makes eye contact with the rest of us. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys tonight. My bestie canceled on me last minute.”
“Don’t thank them. They have no say.” Heath tickles Grace’s side, and she giggles.
I look away, not sure if I’m uncomfortable with their easy affection or the fact that I want what they have.
“Is your bestie as hot as you are?” Blake asks, and Heath growls. Blake throws his hands up in surrender. “Chill, bro. I don’t want your girl.”
Grace takes a bite of Heath’s French fry. “She’s gorgeous and sweet like the cupcakes she bakes. And totally taken, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Worth a shot.” Blake shrugs, chugging the last of his drink.
I stick around and chat with the group for a little while longer before excusing myself. As much as I enjoy hanging out with everyone, there’s a fiery woman who lives next door that I’m itching to see.
twenty-one
Nico
Istopatthered light and watch a group of college students walk across the street. One guy whistles at my car in appreciation, and pride fills my chest.
I fucking love my Wraith. This model isn’t made anymore, which makes it even more special.
The pride I feel isn’t really about the car itself, but more about how far I’ve come.
That dickhead sperm donor of mine left me and my pregnant mother to fend for ourselves, and we fucking did it. We didn’t just survive; we thrived without him.
Ma worked her ass off to provide for me and Talia. I’m a success because of her sacrifices. When I realized I was a natural at baseball, I threw myself into the sport in hopes of one day making it to the show, so I could return the favor and take care of my family.
And I did. I fucking made it. No thanks to my so-called father. I am the man that I am because of my mother. She provided mewith the tools I needed to succeed. I have everything I need; I always have.
I’m brought back to the present as the group of twenty-somethings inch closer to my car and try to peer inside. The dark tint of my windows keeps me invisible as I chuckle at them. They give up and clear the crosswalk for me to make a right turn down the street.
My heart skips as I spot Savannah up ahead, looking fine as fuck in a tight pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. She’s standing in front of the glass entrance doors with a plastic bag in her hand, and by the look on her face, she’s annoyed. The fire usually directed at me is aimed at another man.
I slow the car down to a creep as she crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head in irritation.
What the fuck?
