Page 14 of Grand Slam

“I’m thinking we’d rather find out your plans and go there. Seeing you dance around this girl, most likely embarrassingyourself in the process sounds much more entertaining.” Our short stop Gunnar McNeer is normally so serious. But I guess he couldn’t let the opportunity pass by to give me a little shit.

They weren’t going to let this go, so giving them a little seemed like the only way to go.

“We had a little thing before I left Chicago and moved here. We haven’t really talked since then. She was younger, still had a lot waiting back home. I left, she was in college, and that’s all it was. Like I said she’s Liz’s best friend, and she’s been a part of my life long before her and I ever crossed a line. She’s here visiting and at the end of the week she’ll go back home. It is what it is, pretty simple.”

“That shit sounds anything but simple.” Damien laughs. “Guarantee it gets real messy before she’s back on that plane.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re screwed.” He walks away shaking his head. “In more ways than one, enjoy it, run from it, whatever you choose, but it all ends the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.” Damien grabs his bag, throws it up over his shoulder and walks out. I’m met with silence and when I scan over the guys I see as brothers are all smiling.

“What?” And they give me nothing. Nothing but chuckles and knowing smirks they flash one another before pulling the same fucking thing Damien did.

When I am left with no one in the locker room but me I open my locker and there along the top shelf is a line of tiny ass rubber fucking ducks, like the assholes are mocking me too.

I’ve always found humor in how these damn little things appear everywhere at the most random times. But today, I find the bastards annoying.

Slamming shut the door to my locker, I grab my bag and walk out.

They were wrong.

This wasn’t going to blow up in my face.

It can’t, because I wasn’t about to let it.

I could keep this clean.

If what my sister said had any truth to it? That I wasn’t the only one feeling something. Why do things have to be difficult? We could make this work.

Couldn’t we?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Emerson

“It’s a quick mil,”the guy’s voice fills the SUV. Looking up into the rearview mirror I see Kelton looking back at me. Quickly reverting my gaze, I twist my hands in my lap and do all I can to avoid looking back up. Though I want to, honestly I could look in his eyes every single minute of every day and never tire of them.

They are the most unique shade of green, like an emerald, with tiny flecks of gold.

“Jerry, can we talk about this later?” Kelton asks.

“They need an answer,” the guy that I now know must be his agent pushes. “They gave us a week,” he adds. “It’s been a week and three days. I can’t hold them off.”

“Not sure I want to be known as the face of hemorrhoid ointment,” he says grumpily. I hear Liz snicker and peek up just in time to see her cover her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter.

“Is this a bad time?” the guy asks, and I sense the humor is his question.

“I don’t think there is ever a great fucking time to discuss hemorrhoids.” This time I tuck my chin and hold my breath. I’m on the verge of losing it and by the tone in Kelton’s voice, he isn’t far behind. Only his isn’t from humor, poor guy we are all laughing at his expense.

“Maybe we should ask your company?”

“Jerry,” Kelton warns.

“I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

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