Page 25 of Hard Hitter
“Hey,” O’Doul whispered. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s...” she cleared her throat, and a single tear shook loose and ran down her face. “He got a little physical one night, and I left him the next day.”
Concern lined his forehead. “Is that what happened to your foot?”
She nodded. “But please don’t say anything. I didn’t tell anyone the truth about that, except for Becca. I’d go over to Becca’s tonight, but she and Georgia went wedding dress shopping and then out to dinner. Shit.” She sat up straighter, still a jumble of nerves. “You probably had plans, too.” A single guy with a night off? Of course he did.
He crossed his feet and took a sip of his drink. “I’m pretty sure the team can get drunk without my help for once.”
Ari yawned suddenly. The alcohol was turning her bones to liquid.
O’Doul picked up the bottle and held it over her glass, then hesitated. “Did you eat dinner?”
“Yes. I was just throwing away my takeout box when the shouting started.”
He poured. “Good. I could probably dig up some crackers, but that’s about it. My fridge is nothing but ketchup and old leftovers.”
“Well, you’re on the road half the time. And in New York, nobody needs to cook anyway. I wonder what players do in the flyover states. Starve, I guess.”
“I wish. They’d be easier to beat.” He sipped his drink,and she yawned again. “If you think you’re going to crash, help yourself to anything in the bathroom. I’ll make up the bed for you.”
“Ireallydon’t want to put you out.” A new wave of embarrassment warmed her face.
“Naw,” he said, standing up. “Been a while since I’ve been to a pajama party. We can braid each other’s hair and tell ghost stories.”
Now that was a funny image. Smiling, she got up and crossed to her duffel bag, where her silk pajamas were. How handy to have a packed suitcase. It made fleeing her own home that much more convenient.
O’Doul’s bathroom was spotless. She washed her face and dried it on one of his pristine white towels. Then she changed into her PJs. When she emerged, he was just finishing up changing the sheets on the giant king-sized bed.
The sight of this muscle-bound man changing the sheets on his bed for her did odd things to her tummy. For a second there, her subconscious offered up an appealing idea—that they were about to strip each other naked and roll around together on those sheets.
Yowza. That was just the whiskey talking.
“Did you furnish this place yourself?” she asked, just to force herself to focus on the reality of the moment.
He turned around and gave her a crooked smile. “Not hardly. I bought the apartment from a married couple—David and Dexter—who were moving into an antique house in San Francisco. They had bought all this Scandinavian stuff and were fretting about how it wouldn’t match the new place.” He laughed out loud at the idea. “So I bought, like, all their stuff. Even the dishes. Didn’t have to set foot in a store. Best deal ever.”
“That was very pragmatic of you. David and Dexter have lovely taste.”
“I know, right? But I probably would have bought it even if everything was mint green. I hate shopping.”
“And you don’t entertain very much? Your place is nice.”
He tugged a pillow into its case. “It took me a long time to get my own place. I’m not used to sharing.”
Not for the first time she wondered about this man’s childhood. “What do you mean it took you a long time to get your own place?”
O’Doul shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “Didn’t get any help, that’s all.”
“From your parents?” she pressed.
“Don’t have any of those.” He chucked the pillow onto the bed. Then he grabbed a pair of flannel pants off the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom before she could ask another question.
She went over to his big couch and sat down. The TV was on now, tuned to a sports commentary show which was just ending. So she flipped channels with the remote on the sofa, choosing an action movie with Nicolas Cage. She tucked herself into the corner of the big piece of furniture and sipped her whiskey, and he joined her on the couch a few minutes later.
“Is thisFace/Off?”
“Yeah.” He made himself comfortable in the other corner of the couch, and Ari couldn’t help but admire him. That broad chest looked like a fine place to rest her head. He looked over to catch her staring.Whoops. “Do you like this movie?”
