Page 64 of Bad Run

It’s official.

I’m the crazy one because I just said yes to marrying one of my dad’s baseball players. A man I had a one-night stand with.

Nothing bad can come of this, right?

twenty-one

Lance

Present

Wifey: Are you free to talk?

Wifey. I smirk at her contact information on my phone as I read Gwen’s text message.

The sun hasn’t even risen, and she’s texting. Like me, she’s probably been up all night thinking about my proposal.

I’ve been reeling since the words slipped out of my mouth.

Proposing was not my plan.

When I got off the team bus to find Gwen, all I wanted to do was ask her to go on a date. When I overheard her friend say she was getting married, I flipped.

A wildfire of anger burned through me as questions swirled in my head, trying to make sense of what I had heard. But it was the disappointment and regret that wrapped itself around my heart, slicing it in two, that made me leap into action.

There was no scenario on the planet in which I was going to sit by and watch Gwen marry someone else.

Not a fucking chance.

When I left a shocked and quiet Gwen in the conference room, I immediately started making plans and putting things into motion. Proposing to her is the most impulsive decision I’ve ever made, and yet it’s also brought me a profound sense of clarity.

I was mad at Gwen and acted like a total dick because I was butt-hurt. She was gone the morning after, and I never wanted her to leave.

Fate is giving me another chance. The tricky bastard has been calling for months, dropping signs, and it’s time I answer the call.

Do you want to meet for breakfast?

The three dots come and go as Gwen debates her answer.

Wifey: When and where?

I send her the address to the spot I found by accident as I was out for a run in my neighborhood. She’s going to love it.

Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and sitting at one of the small tables in the back of the café, with a plate of strawberry buttermilk donuts. As I wait, I sip my cappuccino and watch the early morning runners and corporate types walk by the storefront.

Gwen walks up to the store and pulls open the door, sucking all the air from my lungs. She flips her long curls over her shoulder and enters the store, turning heads. As she should.

Gwen is stunning.

The epitome of sweet, sophisticated, and sexy.

My eyes devour Gwen’s deliciously curvy body. She’s wearing a shiny, soft-pink pantsuit with a white blouse that shows a sliver of her midriff, and a pair of strappy nude sandals.

Images of those sandals wrapped around my back make my dick hard.

Don’t get a boner now, I chant in my head.

But, fuck, it’s hard. Pun intended.