Page 30 of The Curveball
Her youngest son’s school called ten minutes ago. He’s puking, and I can see the mama-bear trying not to rear up too intensely to go rescue her cub.
Blame for her torment can be squarely placed on Griffin-Paranoid-Marks. He put her on babysitting duty, and it was horribly bold of him to do.
I’m twenty-nine years old. I can look after my own self, thank you very much. If I hadn’t been unsteady on my feet, I would’ve tossed one of the many ceramic chickens scattered amongst the books and rustic looking décor at his chest.
What sort of man has the audacity to keep me hostage like I’m a child unable to care for my basic needs? Then, even more irritating, why does his bossiness send a jolt of heat tumbling through my belly?
He’s infuriating, and sweet, and thoughtful, and annoying all rolled into one sexy, enormous, muscled tower of sunshine.
To have used that body as my own personal cuddle post all night doesn’t help.
Alice hesitates again, studying me where I’m sprawled out on the couch. I probably look like death gobbled me up and spat me back out. My hair is a mess, I’m in Griffin’s black sweatpants, rolled three times to keep them up, and an oversized T-shirt I refuse to take off since it smells like the man.
I can enjoy the scent of a man without it meaning anything deeper.
“I’ll call Skye to come over if it’ll make you feel better,” I say.
“Sorry, little bee. Skye is at the meeting with your hunk of a man.”
I pinch my lips and narrow my eyes. He’s not my hunk of a man, but I’m not correcting her either.
If she wasn’t busy being the head trainer at the moment, I know Skye Knight would be here in a second. It’s been more than I bargained for since I began researching the ins and outs of the Vegas Kings to get to know Skye a little better.
Alice and her family come from the Anderson baseball empire and are some of the best people I’ve met. I already knew Dallas and Mike Anderson pretty well, but Skye had grown up in California with her mom, so the last year has been exciting to make a new friend.
She doesn’t mind if I’m quiet, or if I say different things. Skye is the sort of person who loves to find the differences in people, then love the stuffing out them.
I know people who grow up with the sort of wealth the Andersons have, and I’ve seen the way some people handle wealth with dominance and indifference. Not Alice’s family. They are proof you can be born with a silver spoon, but when you use the spoon to dig in the dirt until you’ve paved your own path, you’ll come out stronger.
I think Alice’s work ethic is what drew me to her straightaway. The only clue she had more than a buck to her name was she attended our private college two hours from here. Alice went to learn marketing so she could earn a place with the Vegas Kings.
I went because I had no choice in the matter.
But I’d walked away with a degree in writing and Alice, so I can’t say it was a bust.
“All right,” Alice concedes at long last. “But I hope if this ever happens again, you know Cal and I would put you up. And you know your family is going to lose their minds.”
“They don’t need to find out. My brothers turn into mosquitos if they think I’m in trouble. They never stop buzzing in my ear.”
“For good reason.”
“Not for this reason,” I say, ignoring the rush of blood to my head. “And you and Cal didn’t need me camping out on your couch.”
“The couch?” Alice presses a hand to her chest. “Girl, I would’ve put you in one of the bunk beds. What sort of hostess do you think I am?”
Alice met her husband Calvin our freshman year. He didn’t attend school with us, but managed the grounds at the college while he got his feet under him after graduating at UNLV and starting his own investment firm.
Their romance was a whirlwind. Passionate and perfect. Now they have two perfectly rambunctious boys, and I’m happy for her.
Alice leans over and gives me a gentle hug before heading toward the front door. Once there, she halts and checks her phone screen after a cheery ding announces a new message.
“Uh-oh.” Alice scrolls through something on her phone.
“What?”
“Sounds like our Griffin is on his way back, but without a smile. Skye just texted me, but she has another meeting with the training staff, or I’d get her cute booty over here to spend time with you. My sweet pea takes the brain seriously.”
My body reacts immediately. A tight squeeze to my chest, a rush of worry. Why is Griffin upset? It takes a bit of effort to shove it away and return to the proper way a reluctant acquaintance might respond to such news. “Something happened at their meeting?”