Page 11 of Body Checking
“Hold on, Maren. I said nothing of the sort.” I hold up my hands and inch closer to her. “I’m not saying that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but I was simply talking about having dinner with me.”
Her cheeks tinge pink and she quickly folds her lips between her teeth. She diverts her eyes to her boot covered feet that fidget back and forth.
“Oh,” she says, her voice now small and quiet.
Not at all the way I want her to sound.
“So. Is that a yes?”
“I…are you serious? You want to takemeto dinner?”
“Absolutely. Or lunch or breakfast. Whichever meal you prefer, I don’t really care. I just want enough time to learn everything about you.”
She blinks at me several times, her eyes looking like one of those dolls whose lids open and close at unsynchronized time.
When she stays silent for another half minute, I counter, “Or maybe ice cream? I’m a pie man, myself, but if you want ice cream then I’ll hunt down the best in town.” That gets her to smile and the tense moment instantly settles. “I do have to add that dinner would have to wait for a bit since we head out on the road tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she says again, this time slightly disappointed.
“But maybe you’re free tonight? For a drink?” I’m trying anything I can to salvage this and get her to commit to even a damn walk to the parking lot.
I’ll take anything at this point.
“Well, I don’t think I can tonight since I came with my friend, but I think I could manage a dinner when you return. Or lunch. I like sandwiches just as much as I like steak.”
Relief washes over me, thankful she doesn’t think I’m some creepy old guy trying to get in her pants. I mean, Iwould love to get in those hot as fuck jeans that hug every curve, but I’ll settle for a meal or two before that happens.
“We have back to back road games, so I’ll be home in eight days. I wish it were sooner but I can’t help the schedule.”
“No. It’s fine. I totally understand. I have a lot of work to get done over the next few days.”
“With your designing?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’m an…wait. How did you know I was a designer?” Her head tilts to the side as her brows knit together.
I scratch the back of my neck and answer honestly. “I, uh, looked you up. I should probably tell you how I came to find you, and hopefully you won’t think I’m some crazy stalker.”
I motion to the couch and she walks over slowly, taking a seat, and I sit next to her. She crosses one leg over the other and my eyes lock onto the sweet crevice between her thighs. The spot where I want to bury my head.
I shake out of my thoughts of what her pussy tastes like and explain how I came to find her.
“So it all started the other morning when I woke to a barrage of texts from my players all about this woman on social media.”
“Oh Jesus, please take me now,” she murmurs and brings her hand to her head.
I place my hand on hers and bring it away from her face and to rest in her lap. “I’ve never been so glad to have my players bugging me than I was that morning. Instantly I knew I had to find you. But the problem was that I didn’t know your name or anything about how to find you, so I thought all hope was lost.”
A brown wave falls from where it was pushed behind her ear and I reach up, taking the lock between my fingers and rubbing the silky strands between them.
“Then your friend set up the jumbotron last night and I thought the Lord had answered my prayers. I did a whole lot of digging –which I do not apologize for– to get you here, and here you are. Are you going to file a restraining order now?”
I watch her lips wiggle as she tries to control her smile, then she bursts out laughing. In turn, it makes me laugh and I startle at the sound having not heard it in a very long time.
“No restraining order. But I will be checking that my doors and windows are locked before I go to bed.” I smile again, and the muscles in my face start to ache from sitting dormant for so long.
“Do you think I could give you my number? I would ask for yours but I don’t know if you could handle getting texts from me the moment you walk out the door.”
“You’re a smooth talker, Cade Hamlin,” she tells me and reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. “Here.”
