Page 47 of Stealing Second

She throws her hands in the air. “Well, ya did. And now she’s gonna think I’m making shitty life choices because you”—she waves her hand down the hall toward the bar—“have Sunday and Monday here, and that’s fine by me, but respect the fact that I’m not Tuesday.”

“I’m a little … confused as to what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I was a little okay with hooking up with my neighbor once in a while, but you’ve got women rolling in and out of your driveway. Hell, even Hudson brings girls here for you. It’s all complicated now, and honestly, I’m not going to be put on a calendar.”

“CeCe, would you?—”

“No, actually, I won’t. And don’t make this anymore awkward.”

“I’ll do my best not to make it awkward, but full disclosure?—”

“No need for?—”

“My mother and sister are not Sunday and Monday,” I cut her off because she’s got this all twisted. “They’re pretty much every day, mostly through texts but sometimes calls. Hudson doesn’t bring me women.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder behind me. “Unless it’s my mother and sister.”

She hugs herself. “Well, you can’t just grab me and my sister. We were fine and?—”

“There was a brawl at your feet. You were?—”

“It was Leland Locke swinging on the Mavericks’ center fielder, Frankie Frangula, because he’s been dating Leland’s ex off and on. His ex, Gwen, is my sister and Whitley Paul’s best friend.” She waves her hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter, but what does matter is, had I known you played ball, especially with John Paul, the other night would never have happened.”

“Cecilia—”

“I have to pee, so, like, seriously”—she does jazz hands and scrunches up her nose—“this is all too complex, with you playing baseball and Pope’s your teammate and … It’s not fun now.” Then she disappears into the restroom.

Well, fuck.

I head back out to the bar, and not just because my family is here, but because I also need to figure out what the hell I can do to uncomplicate it and remind her just how fun my giving her orgasms can be. More importantly, do I want to do anything? I straight-up wanted to get to know her, and then … all this shit? Pope knowing being an issue? I didn’t tell him; what happens between us is between us, not a Jaguars’ issue. But if he did find out, what the hell would be the issue? We’re adults.

It’s fucked up.

When I walk out, her sister and the guy who was helping Pope pull Locke off the Mavericks’ center fielder are standing with her. He waves me over.

“You pulled my wife and sister-in-law away from that mess?” he asks.

I nod and wait for him to chew my ass out, too.

He holds his hand out. “I’m Danny.”

I shake it. “Roman Hart.”

“You familiar with a ratchet strap?” he asks.

I look at him curiously, unsure of where this is going, but I nod.

“You know how to use one?”

“I do,” I answer, still wondering what the hell this has to do with his wife, or Leland Locke, or honestly any-fucking-thing.

“Good. Strap in tight. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Daniel Aiken,” Chloe gasps and swats his chest.

He winks and kisses her cheek. “The seven years you pushed me away? Totally worth it.”

My jaw drops, and then CeCe walks up to Chloe.

“If you guys wanna hang, I can get a car. I just?—”

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