Page 35 of Home Town Advantage
I drove, so I barely drank, but the girls are mostly sauced. I offer to drive them home. Shay’s girlfriend doesn’t drink, so she has Shay and Kennedy in her car.
I’m driving Sulley and Palmer back to their apartment. They’re sitting in the back, adorably giggling together. The Sulley I remember from childhood was a tomboy with very few girlfriends. I think they were all probably jealous of her. I’m happy she’s found some nice friends here.
I can’t help but quietly smile at their interaction. Their heads are practically glued together as they speak way too loudly but think they’re whispering. I’m gathering that Palmer has a bit of a crush on Beau. He might be a little bit too much for a demure girl like Palmer, but who knows what could happen?
When I get to their apartment, I insist on walking them up since there’s no doorman. When we get to the door, I see a bouquet of Chocolate Cosmos. Sulley turns to me. “Did you send them here this time?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know your address until tonight.” I scratch the back of my neck. “I…umm…didn’t want to be intrusive. I send them to the stadium each week.”
She pinches her eyebrows together. “Who else in the world would send these? Maybe they’re from Shane.” She runs her lower lip through her teeth. “No, he doesn’t know about these flowers.”
What the fuck? Her boyfriend doesn’t know her favorite flowers. I hated him plenty before, but now I hate him even more for being a selfish asshole.
She continues. “They’re probably from my parents.”
As soon as she opens the card, I know it’s not them. Her face falls as it turns a shade of white.
She looks at Palmer. “We need to call Reagan Daulton right away.”
What the hell is going on?
NINE
SULLEY
It’s early in the morning. We had such a great time at the dinner party last night, but then a scary, sobering return home. After we told Vance what was going on, he insisted on sleeping on our couch. Between the liquor and the fear, I didn’t bother to put up a fight. There was something instantly comforting about having him here, and I was too shaken to consider otherwise.
I tiptoe out to the living room and see Vance fast asleep. He’s on his back with one arm above his head and the other resting on his bare, shirtless stomach. The blanket is pooled at his waist.
I haven’t seen his body in over five years. It’s only gotten sexier and has never once failed to stir something deep inside me. I can’t help but smile at the memory of the first summer he had chest hair. He was probably about fifteen, and it was way before my brother had any chest hair of his own. We constantly made fun of Vance. At the time, I thought it was gross. Now I ache to run my fingers through it again. My lips. My tongue.
Stop it.
My eyes travel from his body to his handsome face. Even inhis sleep, he looks like he’s stressing over something. Does he regret his actions? Sometimes it’s hard to believe he did what he did to Finn, but he’s never once offered an explanation or expressed any remorse. How could he be so callous? And then there’s the man who remembers my favorite flowers and sends them to me every week. The one who completely flipped out last night at the notion of me possibly being in any danger. Who refused to leave our apartment and insisted on making himself a barrier between our front door and me.
He’s such a confusing man. He equally does horrible and thoughtful things.
He shifts slightly, and I can now see part of a tattoo creeping out from his left side, but his arm is still mostly covering it. I didn’t know he had a tattoo. That’s new since I last saw his body. I wonder what it is.
I try to get a closer look, but he begins to stir, so I scurry toward the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker. About ten minutes later, he enters the kitchen dressed. In his sexy morning voice, he grumbles, “Morning.”
I offer a small, appreciative smile. “Morning. Thanks for staying.”
His eyes take a very obvious fill of my legs in my tiny sleep shorts before he catches himself and nods. “Of course.” He sits down across from me at the small kitchen table. “What will happen today?” he asks.
“I have a meeting in Reagan Daulton’s office in an hour. She said she’d figure things out overnight and have a plan by the time I arrive. I have a feeling she’s going to insist on some sort of bodyguard. I can’t believe it’s gotten to this point.” My shoulders fall. “I just want to play ball. Knowing that a stranger not only knew my favorite flowers but left them at my front door and told me he liked the purple shirt I wore the other day…” I shiver. “It’s freaky.”
He gives me a compassionate look. “I know it’s tough. All the other shit that comes with being a successful athlete. I’ve beenthrough stuff like this before. I love the fans, and most are amazing, but you come across a crazy one now and then. I don’t love my condo, but I live there because it’s the most secure building in the city. I can’t wait to move out of the city to have my own safe, private space.”
I didn’t know he was moving. “Where are you going?”
“The suburbs. I’m building a house.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more but thinks better of it.
The coffee maker signals that the pot is complete, so I stand and pull out three mugs from the cupboard. “You still take it black?” I ask with my back to him as I pour his.
“I do.” He lets out a quick laugh. “I remember when you wanted to drink coffee like us but hated the taste. You would drown it in that crappy French vanilla shit.”
I open the refrigerator and hold up a big bottle of my French Vanilla Coffee-Mate.
