“I was setting him and Kaylani up with tickets to Tuesday’s game.”
“That was nice of you.”
He shrugged. “I got you and June tickets, too.”
“What? Why did you—”
“Because gorgeous, gorgeous girlfriends support their talented, talented boyfriends, and I told you, I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“The bestfakeboyfriend.”
He smirked. “Right.”
I found myself suddenly distracted when he rubbed the back of his neck, exposing his thick, tattooed bicep. Even though I had never watched Jared play—although, from the sound of it, that was subject to change—I had seen photos of him on the pitching mound, and none of them had featured those tattoos. Flowers and plants of all varied species.
If his tattoos were anything like mine, there would be a story behind each and every one of them. But that couldn’t be. He was only twenty-four. How many stories could he possibly have?
“Have you?”
“Hm?”
Judging by the way his eyes went practically feral, he knew exactly what had distracted me.
“I said, have you been to a game before?”
I shook my head. “I’m not exactly a baseball fan.”
“You don’t have to be a baseball fan,” he said. “You only have to be a Jared Pink fan.”
“And I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.”
A laugh belted out of him. “By the way, that Ryan guy? I know you don’t have the best history, but he seems okay.”
That was where I drew the line.
“Listen up,Pink,” I said, spewing his name like a bad word. “You talked to the guy for four minutes. He made my life hell for four years.”
“I’m not excusing that.” He lowered his tone before asking, “But have you ever stopped to consider that maybe he isn’t the same person he was in high school?”
No, because I don’t want to.
It was a lot easier to keep Ryan in the box I had placed him in years ago, the one labeled “heartless jerk.” And his wasn’t the only box I kept tucked away. There was one for Pink, too, only that one was marked “disaster in the making.”
“I know I’m not the same immature, little boy from high school.”
I cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
A devilish grin crossed his face. And then, before I even knew it happened, he looped a finger through the top of my shorts and tugged me toward him. My plush belly connected with his rock-hard abs.
Everythingabout him was hard.
“Oh, angel,” he all but growled. I cursed the way my body trembled in response. “We both know nothing about me is little.”
Cocky bastard.
“You— Um—”
“I’ll see you at the game.” He stepped back. I felt the weight of his fingers, even after he relinquished his hold. “I’ll be the one on the dirt hill, front and center.”
