Page 31 of Home Game

“Fine,” I said, feeling grumpy. I hated being in limbo. “But you know my terms.”

“I can promise you, I will never ask for anything sexual in payment, okay?”

I watched as he poured soup into a bowl and then set it in front of me.

It was the best soup I had ever had in my life. Ryan cleaned up the surrounding kitchen while I ate. Again, I thought of his agent. With her red lips and red high heels. The woman screamed sex. I looked back at Ryan, wondering if him and his agent had crossed that line. They seemed chummy.

“Won’t I be cramping your style if I stay here?”

He was wiping the island. “Nope.”

“Where will you bring your action?”

“Who says I have any action?”

“Guys like you always have some action happening.”

“Guys like me?”

“You know.”

He stopped wiping. “Enlighten me.”

I studied him for a long moment. The guy was really good looking with his high cheekbones and that wide smile. “You’re not ugly.”

He snorted.

“In high school, the jocks, even the fat football guys, got the chicks. With your job, even if you suck at it, I bet you get your fair share of chicks willing to give you as much action as you want.”

“I don’t suck at my job.” He pointed at my bowl. “Are you done with that?”

“Yes.”

He put it in the dishwasher. “I’ve got enough shit on my plate. I don’t have time for that.”

“I know, but if you change your mind, I can always take off and give you some privacy.”

He tossed the rag in the sink. “I don’t need privacy.”

“Fine.” I slowly moved off the chair. “Is it okay if I take that shower now?”

“I puttowels in the bathroom for you.”

I stood in the bathroom,unable to get the scrub shirt off my body. The taut cotton didn’t stretch and my arm was too sore to lift it over my head. I had a couple options. I could skip the shower, but I felt so gross and itchy. I really wanted a shower. My second option was I could ask Ryan for help.

I walked out of the bathroom. He sat at the island counter, looking at his phone.

“Can you help me?”

He lifted his head.

“I can’t get this shirt off.”

His expression was a mixture of disbelief and dread.

“Can you help me pull it over my head?”

He moved closer and then just stood in front of me. Unmoving.

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