Page 64 of Curveball
I stand, pocket my phone, and drop a kiss to the crown of her head.
“I’m going to have to give Dilly special instructions not to let you out of her sight.”
“Ha! Like she’s not going to be right beside me the whole time.”
I’d like to think she’s joking, butshe’s probably right.
“I’m going to have to send along a bodyguard, then,” I tease, and ruffle her hair. It’s still messy from sleep, but she is always beautiful to me. I’ll miss her while she’s gone—scouting for boys in board shorts.Fuck.
An unbidden thought rushes my brain—they’ve been doing that so much lately—that I want to know what Palmer’s curls look like when she’s fresh from bed. From sleep. From sex.Jesus.
I turn to escape the room, and my thoughts, but pause. “I don’t need to be to the ballpark for a while, so I can give you a ride whenever you want.”
She pops up from her chair and rinses her mug in the sink.
Thanks, Daddy, but Palmer’s coming to pick me up. I thought you had a day game today, so she said she could help.”
“Nope, that’s tomorrow. You know, after you’ve already left—off having fun with your grandmother and neither of you here to cheer me on.”
Natalie laughs out loud and moves closer to condescendingly pat my cheek.
“Aww, poor Daddy. Like none of your other thousands of superfans will be screaming your name as soon as you take the mound.”
“That’s my girl. Never let me get away with a thing.”
“’Kay, I have to get ready. Listen for Palmer, will you? She should be here soon.”
Sure enough, an alarm chimes from the gate a few minutes later. Good, Palmer’s code must still be activated, because the monitor shows that she’s driven through it and is nearly to the house. I walk out to meet her and catch her before she has a chance to get out of her car.
She whirs her window down and she places her palm on the open frame.
“Good morning,” I say. “I hear you got roped into being transport today. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. Dylan has some project he’s messing around with for the photo club at school and he needed to be there early, so I already dropped him off.”
I lower my hand to the top of hers and let my thumb graze her flesh. I want kiss her, but?—
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, then—fuck it—move my palm to the side of her face, lean in, and plant my mouth firmly on hers. There’s no misunderstanding my intention—I want more of this woman—and her lips are smiling beneath mine. They spread wide, tip up at the edges, part so I can dip my tongue in for an even sweeter taste.
“Mmm, coffee,” she murmurs into my mouth before pulling back. The look in her eyes is pure longing, but whether it’s for me or for coffee, I’m not sure. But then, she complains, “I was in a rush this morning and haven’t had any yet.”
Ah. Coffee. It’s coffee.
My hand is still on her face, and she reaches up to cover it with her palm. She doesn’t use it to push me away, just rests it there. It’s us, together. Content in the moment.
“My smartass kid needed a few more minutes. Come in and have some,” I invite.
She pulls her hand down and her movement makes my hand drop away. I rest both palms on the window frame. She shakes her head slightly, a flash of regret in her expression before her eyes twinkle and she shares a light chuckle.
“I shouldn’t. Not today. That will definitely make us late.”
I nod. “Tomorrow, then,” and my words hold a note more serious than I intend. But now that the idea is planted, sharing that first cup with her in the morning seems . . . necessary.
Lighten up, Murphy.
“But she’s leaving tomorrow, right?”
Jesus, where is my head?
