This makes him laugh. “I seriously doubt that.”
I continue ranting. “Their conversation would have bored me to tears. Mind-numbingly dull and unimaginative.” I pause. “Can you imagine what they’d be like in—”
I clamp my lips shut.
He leans in, waiting. Baiting me. Prompting me to finish.
“Can you imagine what they’d be like in…” He pauses then tries again. “In…” He unfolds his giant body from the steps, rising to his full height. Brushes off his jeans as if they’re covered in dust. “Go on. Say it.”
“Would you stop that? I’m not going there with you.”
“I just wanted to hear you say bed. Fuck, I must be bored if I want to play word association games. Jesus. I can fill in the blanks fine all by myself, spank you very much. I’m a big boy.”
He is a big boy.
Very big. And for the first time since stepping out onto this porch, I really wonder about him. Where he’s from. If we’ve ever crossed paths on campus. What’s he’s majoring in.
He stands over me now by a good seven inches, lean hips resting against the white railing of the baseball house. Brown hair cut short. Tan skin, no doubt from being outdoors all the time, probably on the practice field. Beautifully sculpted lips that should be permanently pressed against someone’s mouth, so pouty and defined.
His arms.
Who is this guy?
Curiously, because he seems to be inviting it, my eyes settle on those arms, peruse his wide shoulders and the muscular deltoids emphasized by his thin compression shirt. The bulge of his biceps and pec muscles. The tips of his nipples, hardened from the weather.
If he has an issue with me ogling, he doesn’t mention it or call me out, instead doing a brisk assessment of his own—though admittedly, he won’t find much on me to look at with my puffy jacket concealing most of my body.
Brown half boots. Black leggings. Thick, chunky sweater and the coat covering it all.
His green eyes flicker where my breasts are positioned, pausing before migrating up to my face and touching my lips, nose, and hair. My long dark hair is pulled back tight into a conservative, practical ponytail, almost at the top of my head, more functional for tonight than attractive.
Boring, one might suppose.
My cheeks get hot as he stares me down. I feel my chest getting blotchy too, though he couldn’t possibly see it.
Still…
I smile.
Rowdy
Jesus Christ, she has a dimple in her damn cheek.
I’m a sucker for those.
She shoots me a tentative smile, ass parked on the stoop, back propped against the wooden siding of the house.
It’s obvious that she’s blushing by the way she ducks her head, glancing down at the floor, the soft glow from the two dilapidated lamps illuminating the crown of her head.
The porch lights are busted and rusty, needing their bulbs changed, one flickering, the other just about to burn out. It makes the entire place look like a goddamn carnival fun-house, casting a weird glow on the girl’s smooth, pale skin.
And her pretty dimple.
Stop staring at it, dipshit.
I cast my glance at her outfit, doing my best to analyze her under the dim lights. She must have been sweaty inside the house. I got a good look at her before convincing her to follow me, but I still study her as if seeing her for the first time.
Both of her boots are tucked under her legs, and she sits, cross-legged on the ground. Blows out a frustrated puff of air that translates into a billowing stream of steam.
“So.” She wraps her puffy-sleeved arms around her knees, hugging them tight. Shivers. “Now what?”
Her prim ponytail is jaunty, bobbing when she tilts her head to gaze over at me.
“Now I babysit you.”
“Lovely. We can bond.”
I position my large body against the railing, giving it a gentle shake to make sure it’s sturdy before resting all my weight on it. It’s solid and secure and is going to get real uncomfortable real fucking fast if I have to stand here all night.
The girl raises her brows at me. They appear black in this light, brows full and arched expertly. “Have you babysat anyone before?”
“No one I managed to keep alive,” I joke. “A few cousins my parents forced me to watch a few times. Never would feed them, but would occasionally throw out a dog bone so they wouldn’t get hungry.”
She smiles, dimple denting the smooth right side of her face. “Is that what you have planned for me?”
I raise my empty hands. “I’m fresh out of Scooby snacks. Guess we’ll both have to starve.”
“Sorry you have to sit out here.”
“Really?” I sound hopeful. “No one is forcing you to sit out here.”
Her light laugh is quiet. “Fine. I guess I’m not that sorry.” She bites down on her lower lip. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying your discomfort just a little bit.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No one has texted me back yet, by the way.”
Shocker. “Your friends haven’t texted you back?”
“Nope.” She pops the P, same way I did before. “Not yet, but I’m sure they will.”
“Nice friends,” I mumble, just loud enough for her to hear.
“They actually are,” she counters. “Give them a break, would you? They’re just excited to be here.”
They let her follow a strange dude outside and she wants me to cut them some slack? Uh, okay…
“They just friends or also roommates?”
“Just friends, from freshman dorm life.”
“Ahh.” I don’t point out the fact that only a cleat chaser would leave her friend hanging for the chance to snag some baseball cock. “What are the odds they’re going to cut the evening short and come looking for you?”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Sure.”
“Two?” Her laugh comes easy.
“Those are terrible odds.”
“Don’t I know it.” Her sigh isn’t loud, but it’s heavy. Conflicted. “I’m not going to fault them for staying inside. Would you? It’s not worth getting pissed about, so…”
“You don’t think they’re going to make bad choices without you guard-dogging them?”
“Oh, I know for a fact they’re going to make bad choices.” She laughs again, softly, emitting a little humming sound as I throw back my head and laugh too, the frigid weather racking my body harder than what’s normal.
I have goose bumps covering my arms and chest; my nipples could cut glass.
The simple fact that her friends haven’t come outside to check on this chick speaks volumes about their character, but that’s not something I’m going to voice out loud if she wants to turn a blind eye to it. It’s none of my business, and this girl sitting across from me has taken enough hits tonight without me pointing out how craptastic her friends actually are.
I mean, they’re leaving her outside for the chance to get banged by an athlete—who does that?
Let’s face it, whatever happens with Derek or Ben or anyone from the team, it won’t lead to anything but the morning-after walk of shame.
If this girl is waiting for her friends to reappear, she’d best be in it for the long haul, which means I’m stuck out here freezing my dick off.
“How long do you think you’ll last before giving up?”
“I guess when I start getting cold?”
That, too, has me laughing like a maniac.
The balls on this chick.
“You’re not cold? What are you, made of stone?” Because my nuts are shriveling inside my jeans like two raisins about to fall off the vine.
Her head cocks to one side. “I mean, this sweater is really warm, and I have this nifty scarf in my bag if you want to borrow it?”
“Hard pass.”
When I rub my bare biceps vigorously to warm them up, her eyes follow the motion up and down—and who would blame her? My guns are huge.
I flex once for good measure, and to get a reaction.
It works. Her eyes move along my torso, lingering on the front of my shirt. “You really should have planned better. It’s cold out—why are wearing short sleeves, anyway?”