Page 74 of Curveball
“Murph. Cutting it a little close, yeah?”
“Here and ready to rock. This is Palmer Sloan, don’t know if you’ve met.”
“Seen you at the field, Palmer. Glad to know ya,” he says to me, but he doesn’t stick out his hand. Goes against Christy’s intel, but for all I know, I’m just the last in a long line of impulsive invites for a few days of fun.Or sex slavery.But somehow, that doesn’t track.
Overthinking again, Palmer Sloan?
I tune back in to the exchange between Max and Declan. They’re discussing seat assignments and the weight of extra luggage, and Max’s jaw is getting tense.
“Look, I messaged the travel guy, Kelly, on our ride here so we could get Palmer on the manifest.”
Declan throws his hands up, andoh man, this conversation isn’t going well. “Don’t know what to say, Murph. She’s not on.”
“Damn it, Wylde, I can tell by that constipated look on your face, she’s not. Someone needs to make it happen.”
“Calm the fuck down and give me a minute to make a call,” Declan tells Max, and his voice is calmer, as though he’s checked his tension. Still, I’ll just be holed out in the ladies’ room until they somehow resolve this and I’m not a source of contention. So far, this trip to Michigan isn’t fun at all.
“A fucking minute,” Max agrees in his growly voice, sounding like he’s not ready to deescalate anything until he gets the answer he wants. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s dragged out that tone today, but also,I want him to use that growly voice on me. It’s kind of hot.
I locate the bathroom down the corridor and tell Max where I’ll be. It’s a multi-purpose escape, and gives me enough time to both take care of business and pull my shit together. By the time I drop my wet paper towel in the trash and exit the washroom, I’m calm again, and feeling more positive about this adventure I’m on.
Max’s features are relaxed, and his lips tip up in a smile that shows off his dimple, when I rejoin him in the boarding lounge.He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his body and dropping a kiss on my head. I want to snuggle in, chase the sense of calm I get from just breathing him in. Whatever it is we have going for us, it feels too comfortable, too fast. And a little dangerous to my heart.
“You feel better? Ready to go? Everything’s all set and the airline has you on the list.”
“Yep, all good,” I say, and pop him on the chest with the back of my hand as I pull away and his arm falls loose. “The next time I have a problem with a flight, I’m calling you in to do the dirty work.”
“No dirty work. Just a glitch. I guess it was shift change or something, and someone dropped the ball.”
A moment later, an airline rep comes through the lounge to announce boarding. I walk through the jetway with Max, then follow him onto the plane. The entire cabin is decked out like first class, with two large leather loungers on either side of the aisle. Those are definitely more comfortable for these big athletes than the cattle car setup of economy class seating. And the oversized screens for in-flight entertainment in front of every seat—well now, that’s just extra.
“Row four’s mine,” he tells me in a low voice. “You want the window or aisle seat?”
“Window.” I pass him my leather carry-on and he tosses it into the overhead compartment like it’s weightless.
“You sure? It’ll mostly be dark while we’re in the air.”
“Ever seen the stars from that high up? Incredible.”
“Hey, quit blocking the aisle, old man,” one of the players laughs out from further back in the line, even though the plane’s not leaving till everyone is buckled in.
“Fuck off, Baby Bear,” Max good naturedly yells back, then waits for me to sit before he takes his seat and immediately reclines and reaches for my hand.
I’m a little surprised at how easily he touches me, even though others are around. I’ve noticed his teammates’ sly grins and raised eyebrows, but their reactions don’t seem to affect him.
“You ready to meet Detroit?” he asks after we’re settled in, our devices plugged into the seatback outlets to charge.
“That’s why I’m here, right?” I tease. “You’re going to show me the sights.”
His eyes grow dark as he leans close.
“Girl, I’m going to show you the sights, all right. The ceiling, the back of the couch, the shower tile . . . and if you’re a really good girl, the city lights from the balcony.
He smirks when a shiver passes through me—which Tripp happens to see . . . and correctly interpret.
“Oh please, you two. Can’t you even wait two hours until you’re locked behind your hotel room door?”
“Fuck you very much, Cassidy. You’re just jealous ’cause your own girl’s not here,” Max shoots back on a laugh. And then, he leans over and makes goose bumps pop up on my neck.
