I distracted myself by grabbing the last maple bar from the box of pastries, swallowing a third of it down in one bite.
“You got another beer for me?” Matty asked, clapping a hand on Bennett’s broad shoulder and smiling wide.
It was easy to see why the Roasters’ shortstop had been named theAmerican League West’s Sexiest Player. Between his Southern twang and a smile that had singlehandedly fueled half the erotic fanfiction on the internet, there wasn’t a woman alive—or man, for that matter—who could resist Matty’s charm.
The strawberry-blond curls and freckles didn’t hurt either.
“Here you go,” I said, matching that smile, a gesture I instantly regretted when he answered, “Thanks, Baby Belle.”
I groaned. “Really? You’re sticking with that stupid nickname?”
Diaz perked up like a puppy with a new toy. “Aw, come on, Baby Belle.It’s cute and only slightly . . .cheesy.”
I leveled him with a flat stare. “Great. Just what every woman dreams of—being compared to a snack-sized dairy product.”
Nessa nodded. “To be fair, you are small and curvy.”
“And you do like cheese,” Clarke quickly added.
“Wow,” I deadpanned. “Thank you for that devastatingly poetic assessment of my entire being.”
Jared, still sprawled across Nessa’s lap, chimed in without lifting his head. “You’ll always be Baby Belle to me, kid.”
I hurled the other half of my donut at him, nailing him between the eyes.
Matty laughed. “Damn, Baby Belle has an arm, too? I guess it runs in the family.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Everything stopped.
The teasing, the laughter, the easy Sunday-morning chaos—Bennett’s voice cut through it all, firm and threaded with something that hit me square in the chest.
“Her name is Bella,” he all but growled.
Still calm, quiet. But something in his tone vibrated down my spine so fast, my toes curled inside my boots.Holy fucking shit.Why did the sound ofmyname onhislips make me want to orgasm?
Heat bloomed low in my stomach, hot and sharp, and I hated—hated—that my body responded before my brain could catch up. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. Entirely predictable.
And completely impossible to hide.
My nerves crackled. I kept my attention glued to the cooler lid like it was the last lifeboat on theTitanic, but there was no escaping the weight of everybody’s eyes flickering between Bennett and me.
Matty blinked rapidly. “Hey, we were just playing, Benny.”
“Ay, mi pana,”Diaz echoed,raising both hands as though defusing a bomb. “No more Baby Belle.”
And then, because apparently the universe was intent on making me spontaneously combust, Bennett looked at me.
And it wasn’t a casual glance either.
No, this was the kind of look that stripped a woman bare without a man ever touching her. One full of promises andwickedpossibilities that he fully intended to deliver on if given the opportunity.
And I would let him.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, suddenly grateful I had tossed away the rest of my donut. Choking onan apple fritter in front of the guy who’d been starring in my X-rated dreams as of late wasn’t exactly on my list of New Year’s resolutions.
I heard myself make a sound somewhere between a squeak and a sigh. “Um, thanks,” I finally got out. Barely.
