Brock trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks. “Was there a question in there, Brock?”
A knowing grin spread across his lips. “C’mon, you know what I’m getting at. Until now, you’ve been pretty tight-lipped about your personal life.”
With good reason, though he didn’t need to know that. In fact, a part of me wondered if Brock already knew more about me and my past than he was letting on, but that was beside the point.
“Is there somebody special in your life?”
“On the record?” He nodded. “Yes, and that’s all you need to know.”
“And off the record?” he pressed.
“Same answer.”
“Are we sure that the woman who wrote this has ever watched a baseball game in her life?”
I nearly came in my shorts when Nessa’s laugh sounded from the other end of the phone.
“Now, now. Don’t be mean.”
It had been six days since she’d apologized that night after book club, and we had found a reason to talk for those six days straight. It had started with a text or two about that day’s game or the dress she had picked out for the benefit, but after a particularly grueling doubleheader earlier in the week, I’d picked up the phone and called her.
I hadn’t thought too much about it, other than the fact that I’d wanted to hear her voice. It wouldn’t have mattered if she wastelling me about her day or reading out of the dictionary—I just wantedher.
“C’mon, I know you’re not a baseball expert by any means—”
“Hey,” she interrupted. “I’m getting better.”
“—but she mixes up force play and tag play in the second chapter.”
“Force play, back-door slider, riding the pine—why do so many baseball terms sound sexual?”
“Don’t forget the mound, angel.”
A groan accidentally slipped out of me when I lay back against the pillows to stretch my legs out. We were four games into a seven game road series, and I had never been more desperate to crawl into my own king-sized bed. I was a restless sleeper by nature, always had been.
Thankfully, Bennett didn’t give two shits about my moaning and groaning throughout the night since he took his audio processor off before bed. Nessa and I could have bed-shattering phone sex right now and he’d be none the wiser.
“Are you okay?” she asked when I groaned again. Today’s game had been particularly taxing, made worse by the humidity. I fucking hated the Midwest.
“Yeah, just stretching out.”
“Where are you?”
My cock twitched. “In bed.”
“Oh.”
“How about you, angel?
Her frustrated sigh made me smile. “Still at the store. The power went out this afternoon, and it took forever for the PGE guys to get it back up and running, so I’ve got some work to catch up on.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked her, even as I fired off a quick text to Dani.
I hated the idea of Nessa being on her own so late at night, even in a small town like Rose City. Dani had flown back after this afternoon’s game, so maybe she could take a quick drive by Smutty Buddies on her way home from the airport. Or call on Bruno, the Roasters’ chief security officer. Bruno had the face of an ex-mafia member and the body of an MMA fighter—nobody messed with him and lived to see morning. Dani, though, had the Russian bad ass wrapped around her finger.
“I’m okay. Just frustrated.”
That made two of us. Mine was a different kind of frustration, though. One that I had yet to work out, no matter how many times I jerked off.
