GAMEFACE

ASMALLTOWNBACHELORROMANCE

ABBYKNOX

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Publisher’sNote:Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsareaproductoftheauthor’s
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Dedicatedtothememoryofmybeat-upthree-speedbikethattookmetoLittleLeague

practiceintheblisteringheateverydaysoIcouldstandintheoutfieldandlookfor

butterflies.

CONTENTS

anexcerptfromAbby’snextbook…

AlsobyAbbyKnox

AnexcerptfromTakeMeHome

GAMEFACE

BookTwoinASmallTownBachelorRomanceseries

CoachTroyhasabouthaditwiththecurveballsbeingthrownathimbythebeautifulbut

overbearingbaseballmom,Remy.Hewouldlovenothingmorethantotellhertograbthe

benchandstopthechatter,butfirsthewillhavetostopputtinghislipsalloverher.

BaseballmomRemyissooverthisnew,cockycoachwhokeepssideliningherinput.She

willdefinitelybereadytotellhimhe’souttathere,justassoonasshe’sabletokeepher

handsoffhimandhereyesontheprize.

Remy

ell,thatwasrude.

RemyDawsonstudiedtheemailagaintomakesureitwasmeantforher.

“YoursonwillpitchwhenIsayhepitches.

“We have a full roster this season, so we will be working extra hard to make sure

everyone gets a chance to play all positions. Your son, Elliot, may have only pitched in
pastseasons,butIdon’tbelieveinlaserfocusatsuchayoungage.Thatisnotmymethod,
soyoushouldgetusedtoitifyouwantElliottoplayballatall.”

Yep, there was Elliot’s name. Twice. This email was indeed meant for Remy’s eyes

andwasnotanaccidentalslipofthefingeronsomebody’ssmartphone.

Howdarethisnewguytalktoherlikethat?Nowaytheoldcoachwouldhaveever

blownoffherrequests.

Remy slapped her laptop closed. They would have to sort this out at the team’s first

practicetonight.

“Elliot,honey?Letmeseeyourhomework!”shecalledfromthediningroom.

Elliot’sfeetboundeddownthestairs.Itwasasoundthatshewaseternallygratefulto

havearound,butthesinglemomwaspainfullyawarethatthosefeetwerenolongerinthe
pitterpatterphaseoflife.Heroneandonlychild,now13,wasgrowingupwaytoofast.

Elliot galloped goofily over to Remy at the dining room table. She laughed at him.

“Whatareyoudoing?”

“Nothing,justbangingtwoendsofacoconuttogether.”

“HoneyElliot,you’renotholdinganycoconuts.”

“Comeon,Mom.HolyGrail?”

“Uhh,MontyPython?”

Theteenageboyrolledhiseyes.“Yeah,youonlywatcheditlikeamilliontimes.”

“No,youwatcheditwhileIworkedandbroughtyoumicrowavenachos.”

ElliotsidleduptoRemyandscratchedhisbackagainstherarmasifhewasabearand

shewasatree.“Maybeit’llruboffeventually,”hejoked.

Shelaughedandslappedhimaway.“Notlikely.That’sayou-and-Dadthing.Letme

seeyourmath.”

Elliot handed over his work. Remy examined it. “This isn’t right, you need to show

yourwork.”

“ButIknowitinmyhead.Thatoldbattle-axknowsIknowit.”

“Elliot!Ms.Coleisnotold,andthatisrude.”

“Sheisold—youhadherinschoolandsodidDad.”

Somethinglikesadnessorhighschoolregretsuddenlybubbledupinherandmadeher

raisehervoiceatherson.“She’snotthatmucholderthanyourdadandme,andwordsdo
hurtpeople.Rememberthatwhenyouandyourdadstartbondingoverhisso-calledglory
days, OK? There’s a reason why Ryan Dawson never got a college recommendation.
Beingaclownisn’tgettingyouadegree.Don’tfollowinhisfootsteps,whateveryoudo!”

“Wow,”hereplied.

“What?”

Elliotsmirkedather.“Thatescalatedquickly.”

Shestaredathim,bewildered.“SometimesIdon’tunderstandyoursenseofhumor.”

“Try,like,ever.”

“Fixit.”Shehandedhisworkbacktohim.

Elliot grunted and plopped down at the table and scribbled while she opened her

laptop back up and looked at her bookkeeping spreadsheet. There would be just enough
cominginthismonthfromheronlineworktrainingmedicaltranscriptionists.Enoughto
getacoupleofnamebrandjunkfoodsforElliot.

She then opened a new tab on the screen and typed out a grocery list to send to her

phonelater.

Strawberry-frostedPopTarts

Wrappedcheeseslices(orange)

Chocolatemilk

PirateBootypuffs

Therestofthelistwentonlikethat.Mostlyjunk.Sheworkedhardtogetavegetable

intohisbodyaboutonceaweek,butitwassoexhausting,shegaveupfeelingthemom-
guilt over his eating habits. Besides, he worked and played so hard she didn’t feel she
coulddenyhimhis“kidfood.”

It was truly unfair that eating garbage had no effect on Elliot’s slim, gangly body.

Remy’sbodytype,ontheotherhand—yikes.Shelookeddownather“mompooch”and

sighed.Shealsoworkedhard,butnoamountofsitupsorsquatsatthegymevermadeher
pantsfeellooser.Sheaddedafewthingsforherselfonthelist.

Broccoli

Kale

Blueberries

Plainyogurt

Sonotfair.

Elliothandedherhisworkandsherecheckedit.

“Good!Wasthatsohard?”

“Yes,especiallywhenI’mtryingtogetoutofheretogoseeBrandt’snewskateboard.

He’sgonnaletmetryitout.”

Remyshutthatdown.“Nope.Youhavepracticetonight.”

“Notuntilseven!”Elliotprotested.

“I’msorry,Imeantpitchinglessonsatfiveo’clockfirst.”

“Aww,man,comeon,I’vebeendoingpitchinglessonssincelastseason!DoIreally

havetokeepdoingitduringregularseason?!Rodsuckssohard.”

She smiled at her boy. “Try to think of a more creative way to say you don’t like

someonebesides‘sucks.’Andalso,Rodisthebestprivatecoacharoundhere,andyou’ll
thankmewhenyougopro.”

“Buthe’ssuchadouche,Mom.”

“My own mom would have had a fit over me using that language. You should feel

luckyyougettoexpressyourself.”

“Hardly.”

“What’sthatsupposedtomean,youngman?”

“Nothing.Allright,I’llsuckitupifitwillhelpyou.”

Shecockedherhead.“Helpmewhat?”

“Helpyougetthecoboutofyourass.”Elliotplayfullypulledherponytailandranoff

togetready.

“Youbetterrun,youlittleshit!”shecalledafterhim,smiling.

Remysighedasshewatchedherbabybounceofftothebenchinthesmallkitchento

puthisshoeson.Shetriedsohardnottolivevicariouslythroughthatamazingboy.Buthe
wasonly13andalreadyabetterpersonthanshefeltshewas.

As a single mom, she wished she had planned better and given him a sibling. They

wouldhavehadsomuchfuntogether.Heavenknowsshewasn’tthemostfunmomonthe
block.Hedeservedtohavemorefunthanshecouldgivehim.

Justthenherphonemadeaplinky-plonksound.ItwasRyantextingher.Elliotmust

havesecretlybeenchangingherringtonesandtexttonesagain.

“Hey, I know it’s not my weekend, but I got tickets to Weird Al in Des Moines this

SaturdayandI’dliketotakeElliot.”

Thefunparentstrikesagain.

She typed: “Sure, come to the scrimmage that morning and you can take him after

that.”

Ryanreplied,“Icangetaticketforyouifyouwanttocome,too.”

She laughed out loud picturing herself at a Weird Al concert. Or any concert. When

wasthelasttime?Shecouldn’tremember.Wait,yesshecould.ItwasUsher,atthearena
inDesMoines,thatonearenathat’snamedaftersomeblood-suckingbanknow.Thatwas
thenightsheandRyanskippedprom,because,well,Usherseemedmorefunatthetime.
ThatwasalsothenightElliotwasconceived,ifshewasnotmistaken.

Remywroteback,“Hardpass,butthanks.”

Again,Ryanwastyping.Doesn’thehaveworktodo?Remythoughtasshewatched

thethreelittledots.

“OK,”saidhisfinaltext.“JusttrytofindsomethingfuntodowhileIhaveElliot.You

needtochill.”

Ryanwasalittletoomuchlikeasibling.Hewasagoodguy,butintoomanywayshe

wasstillakid.Greatasateenageboyfriendbutnotsuchagreathusband.Especiallynot
whenpushedintoitwhilebarelyoutofhighschool.

But Elliot was crazy about his dad, and Remy was grateful they could co-parent

relativelyfreeofdrama.

Ryanseemedhappiersingle.Remywasn’tsomuchhappyasshewascontenttaking

careofElliotandmakingendsmeet.

Biologicallyspeaking,itwasn’ttoolatetogiveElliotasibling.Shewasonly32.But

therejustwasn’tarelationshipinherfuture.

Remylaughedoutloud.Youdon’tneedababy,youprobablyjustneedtogetlaid.

Shestaredagainatherlaptopscreenandtriedfocusingonhowtoreplyonceagainto

therudenewbaseballcoach.Troy,wasit?God,heevenhadanarrogantjockname.

PuttingTroyinhisplacewasgoingtobeallthefunsheneededfortoday.

“W

Troy

hatabitch,”mutteredTroyMattis,lookingathisemailforthelasttimethatdayas

heparkedhisSilveradopickupattheballfield.

He hated communicating over these tiny little anger boxes, as he called them. He

hoppedoutofthetruckandstuffedthephoneintohisbackpocketofhisvintagebutton-
flyLevis,shakinghishead.Hewasquicklyfindingoutthataround30percentofcoaching
middleschool-agekidswasmanagingabunchoftwitchyparents.Especiallythisone.

Whatwashername?

He reached into the pickup bed and hoisted out the bag of bats and balls. As he

trudged to the dugout, he grudgingly took his phone out of his back pocket again. He
lookedatthenameontheemail.RemyDawson.Soundsfancy.Soundsprettystuckup.

However,hehadtotakeintoconsiderationshewasthemomofElliotDawson,whose

pitchinglastyearwentallthewaytotheyouthleague’snationalchampionshipsandhad
gottenhimtheattentionofhighschoolcoaches.Thatemailingshrewmustbedoingone
thingright,evenifshehadabitchyattitude.

Sheprobablyjustneededtogetlaid,hemused.

Troyploppedthebagoverthefence,thenreturnedtothetrucktogetbattinghelmets

andsparemittsforanyonewhomightnotbeabletosupplyoneforthemselves.

RemyDawsonevidentlywasnotafanofTroy’sfirstmassemail,informingeveryone

of practice and game times, rules, and the new plan to rotate all the players around the
infield. Troy did not like kids this age sticking with one job to do all season. Her first
responsetothatplanwasenoughtogethisbloodpressurerising.Shehadtoldhiminno
uncertaintermsthatElliotwasthepitcher.

Troyhadthenpolitelyrespondedtoexplainthatwasn’thisstyleofcoaching.

And then this Remy woman had the nerve to reply with a threat: “Elliot will be

pitchingwhetheritisforyouorforsomeoneelse.”

Troy dumped off the bag of helmets and fumed as he walked the ball diamond,

reverentlywipingoffthebaseswithasmallbroom.Hedidn’tknowifkeepingthebases

cleanwasapartofacoach’sjob,buthemadeitso.

HeponderedwhetherthatRemywomanmeantshewouldyankElliotoffhisteam,or

ifshewasimplyingthatshecouldgetTroyfired.

Good luck with the latter, because there isn’t anyone else around who wants a

volunteersidegigfollowinginthefootstepsofachampionshipcoach.

ThatpreviouscoachhadsoldhiscardealershipinMiddleburgandmovedtoFlorida.

So when Troy moved to town to teach English and had put out his feelers to coach
baseball,thestate’syouthleaguesnappedhimup.Troyhadthefeelingthatthespeedwith
whichhewasplacedwithateamhadalittlesomethingtodowithhispast.Butthatwas
OKwithhim,aslongasnobodymadeabigdealoutofit.“It”wassomethinghedidn’t
liketotalkabout;hejustwantedtoplay.Ifhecouldnotplay,hejustwantedtocoach.

As Troy watched the trail of SUVs and minivans arriving for the season’s first

practice, he wished he had been prepped by that previous coach/car salesman on the ins
andoutsofalltheplayersandtheirhigh-maintenanceparents.Hewastemptedtocallhim
upandchewhimoutfornotwarninghim.

Butthetruthwas,anywarningsabouttheparentswouldnothavedeterredhim.Troy

would be on the field, for better or for worse, every second he wasn’t busy teaching
EnglishatMiddleburgHighSchool.Asasingleoutsiderwhohadbeenrecruitedfroma
muchlower-wageteachingjobfromoutofstate,therewasn’tmuchelseforTroytodoin
Iowaforfun.

Troywouldjusthavetooverlookalltheridiculousadultsandstayfocusedonthekids.

Nobody,especiallynotsomesnootymomnamedRemyDawson,wasgoingtogetinto

hishead.

Hekepthiseyesfocusedonthekidswhoapproachedthefield,introducedhimselfand

he checked their names on the roster. He assigned each kid a fielding position as they
arrived,instructingthemtopracticetheirbase-throwing.

Troylargelyfendedofftheparentsbygivingthemapolitenodastheyeachintroduced

themselves. He did not want parents hanging around practices, and thankfully most of
themtookthehintandleft.

Thenthemanhimself,ElliotDawson,arrivedandTroycouldnothelpbutsmileasthe

kidranoverandextendedhishand.“Elliot?CoachTroy.Isawyourpitchingstatsfrom
year, congratulations. Today we’re going to start with fielding, so I want to start you at
shortstopandseehoweverybodydoesinallthepositions.”

Elliot smiled back at him and thanked him. He quickly donned his mitt and hopped

overtoshortstop.

Well,thatwaseasy.

A little too easy. Because, of course, Troy could sense a presence in the bleachers.

Someparenthadchosentostaytowatchpracticeandhoverlikeahelicopter.

Troydidn’thavetousetoomanybraincellstofigureoutitwasRemyDawson,sheof

thewitchyemails.

Heignoredthepresenceonthatothersideofthefenceandwenttohomeplatewithhis

favorite, broken-in Louisville Slugger. He started with a few grounders to get the kids
warmed up, then moved on to flies to see how they got underneath the ball and if they
calledit.

Still, there was that person in the stands, and he could feel her eyes boring into his

back.

Remy

s soon as she and Elliot piled out of her old Toyota with her cooler of orange
slices and Gatorade and started heading toward the ball field, Remy had her
eyespeeledforthisCoachTroy.

She watched Elliot run ahead of her to introduce himself. From a distance, it looked

likeTroywasindeedsomerandomjockwhodidn’tknowwhohewasgoingtobedealing
with.

Shewasabouttoslogovertheretointroduceherself,butasshegotcloser,shestarted

tolosehernerve.Thecoachhadhisbacktoher,and…whoa.

Thatblueandgraybaseballshirthuggedhisframeandoutlinedsomeseriousmuscles.

The coach wore some well-worn Levis that hugged a beautiful ass. There really wasn’t
another word for it. He wore an old royal-blue ball cap over a mop of straw-blond hair.
Shesuddenlyrealizedshehadbeenspendingwaytoomuchtimeinteractingwithteachers
andparentsonline.Herinterpersonalskillswererustyandshehadnoactualideawhatshe
wasgoingtosaytoputthiscoachinhisplace.

Extremelyhotcoachalert.Real-lifesituation.Donotapproach.Abort!Abort!

Remyduckedoutofthecoach’speripheralvision,shehoped.Shemadeabeelinefor

the bleachers with her little cooler of snacks to sit a spell and shore up her resolve. She
didn’tknowwhyahotbodwouldsuddenlymakehernotwanttostandupforherself,but
she did know that was not what she had pictured in her head. She pictured someone…
shorter…older…paunchier.Butwhy?

Sitting on the bleachers was not helping her focus on what to say. She had a full-on

view of Troy’s batting skills, rippling shoulders and the nice curve of his butt in those
jeans.

Pullyourselftogether,Remy.Thiswasjustadudetryingtothrowhisweightaround.

Hmm.Howaboutyoulethimthrowsomeofthatweightonyou?

HerinnervoicehadaCornyMomsenseofhumor.

Butshecouldhandlethis.Shecouldassertherself.Forallsheknewhewasprobablya

completetrollupcloseandfacetoface.

Andthenheturnedaround.Hewasheadedstraightforher.

ItwasalloverforRemy.Anythingshehadthoughttosaytohimtonightwasoutthe

window.Allshecouldfitinherbrainatthemomentwasprocessingapairofsmoldering
blue eyes trained on her from under that curved-brim tattered Cubs cap. Then there was
thebroadchestandno-doubtnarrowwaistsomewhereunderthatbaseballshirt.Andthe
slowswagger.Helookedannoyed,andhewaslockedonhereyes,deadon.Shecouldnot
helpherbrainfromturningintoabsolutemush.

Heprobablyhasterriblebreath.

Coach Troy approached and she held out her hand and licked her lips. Why did she

instinctivelylickherlips?Why?

She didn’t even care that he rudely did not take her hand to shake it, because she

registerednotasinglewordhesaid.Shecouldhearnothingbutherownpulsequickening.
Upclose,sheknewhedidnot,infact,havebadbreath.Hesmelledlikeanintoxicating
combinationofleatherandsoapandgrass,andalsothatsexyruggedsmellthatguysget
when they’ve been exerting themselves outdoors. She didn’t know what that was called,
butifshebottledit,shewouldbefilthyrich.

Right now, watching the coach’s deep dimples appear and disappear as he spoke to

her,shewouldsettleforjustplainfilthy.

Asshewatchedhisfulllipssaysomewordsather,hersexwokeupwithaflutter.

Whereintheworldhadtheleaguefoundthisguy?Fromthecologneadsonthepages

of Vogue? What the hell was this person doing in Middleburg, Iowa, and how had she
nevernoticedhimatthegrocerystore?Orgasstation?Orthediner?Oranywhereofthe
tenplacestoseeinthistown?

Shenoddedandsmileddumblyatwhateverhewassaying.Anythingyousay,Coach,

justkeeptalking.I’llgetmybrainbacklaterandemailyouassoonasIrememberwhatI
wasgoingtosay.

Troy

hat’s it, he thought. I’m going to have to lay down some ground rules about
parentsattendingpractice.Andshehadbetterabidebyhisrules,orelse.

“Keepitgoing,”hetoldtheplayersashedroppedhisbatandturnedtowardthestands

todealwiththishoveringparent.

Yes,itwasindeedawoman,andhecouldtellbythedeepbrowneyesanddarkhair

thatresembledElliot’sthatitwas,infact,RemyDawson.

Ohshit.

Shestoodupandstaredasheapproached.Shewassmilingsomekindofsmilemeant

tothrowhimoffbalance,buthewashavingnoneofit.Hesteeledhimselfbylockingeyes
with her to let her know he meant business, and only hoped she hadn’t noticed him
glancingatherbreasts,andotherareas.

She had met him halfway and he swallowed. He gathered his thoughts and tried to

remember.Whathadhecomeoverheretosayagain?Ohyes,hehadmeanttolaydown
thegroundrulesaboutparentshangingaroundatbaseballpractice.

Shewasholdingoutherhandtoshake.Hehesitatedlikeafoolandshewithdrewit.

Instead of laying down the law, Troy toned down his speech to let her know he

normallydidnotallowparentstoattendpractice,buthewouldallowitthisonetimesince
he was a new coach and wanted to build trust between himself and the kids and the
parents.

What?Wheredidthatcomefrom?

She had a beauty mark by her right eye that bewitched him. That’s where his dumb

speechhadcomefrom.Hewasunderathrall.

Whenshestaredupathimandlickedherlips,heknewthiswasatacticalmovebyher

tofurtherdisarmhim.Itworked.The“littleTroy”inhispantsrespondedasexpectedto
beingthisclosetoabeautifulfemalewithsomeseriousattitude.

Hedidn’tknowwhatelsewassaid.Hisbrainwasafog.Herlips,herblackeyelashes,

the tiny hoops in her juicy little earlobes that peeked out from the stray hairs that had
escapedamessyponytail,heroversizedwhitetee-shirtthat,upclose,revealedtheoutline
ofalacebra.Tightworkoutshortsovertannedthighs.

Howhadhenevernoticedthiswomanaroundtownbeforetoday?Thiswasnotwhat

he expected a baseball mom to look like. What had he expected? Either a super-tomboy
mom with baggy jeans and no makeup, or an over-done, over-dressed Barbie doll with
fake boobs and a Volvo. Hell, the only thing he knew about parents was from Real
Housewives.Whichheofficiallyhadneverwatched.Nope,never.Hewaswrongabouthis
firstencounterwithabaseballmom,onallcounts.Shewasnatural,feminine,simpleyet
exoticallybeautiful.Forthelifeofhim,hedidnotknowwhyanybaseballdadsweren’t
hangingaroundtoflirtwithher.Orotherbaseballmoms,forthatmatter.

“Well, nice to meet you,” she said, ending the foggy conversation with a sparkling

smileandavoicelikehoney.Thensheturnedandwalkedbacktothestands,accentingthe
most unfair thing about herself: a round, thick ass that had to be the result of about a
millionsquats.

Hecouldn’t.Troycouldnottellheroff.Atleast,notfacetoface.

Maybelater,whenhecouldgethisbrainoutofhisdick.Yep,thatwoulddefinitelybe

abettertimetoasserthimself.

Remy

hecouldnotbelieveit.

WhensheandhadElliotpulledtheToyotaintothedriveway,shehadreceived

anemailalert.Sheparkedthecarandpulledherphonefromherbagandsawitwasyet
another missive from Troy Mattis. Except now, instead of annoyance, she felt a slight
giddiness.

Shereaditandhergiddinessdisappeared.ItwasagoodthingElliothadalreadypiled

out and was headed inside the house to shower, because what happened next was not
somethingshewouldhavewantedhersontowitness.

Shesatbehindthewheelandreadit.Itsaid,“InoticedElliot’sarmseemedfatiguedat

practice today, and also he was having trouble with over-throwing to first. So I just
wanted you to know that I’m playing him at right field until he gets short-range base
throwingdown.Considerthisemailacourtesy.”

Remywentthroughtheroof.

“Whereintheactualfuckdoeshegetoff?”shesaidaloudtotheemptycar.

Shegrowledinfrustration,hit“reply”andtypedfuriously.

“Excuseme?No.Just,no.YouneedtoplayElliotatthemound.He’sthebestpitcher

youhave,andhemightbethebestintheleague.Youknowthis.You’renotgoingtogetto
thechampionshipsagainwithouthimpitching.”

Send.

ShewentintothehousetomakesometeaandmakesureElliotwasgettingreadyfor

bed.Someteawouldsurelyclearhermindofthistrulyunpleasantman.

Yes,hewastotallyunpleasant,despitebeingeasytolookat.Extremelyeasytolookat.

ButRemywouldtake100seasonswithelderly,kindly,andpaunchyauto-salesretirees

likeCoachAdamsoverthispresumptuouspunkCoachMattis.

Justwhothehelldoeshethinkheis?Andjusthowmanytimesinonedaycanthisguy

makemeaskmyselfthat?

She heard the shower running and saw Elliot’s filthy uniform strewn all down the

stairs.Attheveryleast,thiscoachknewhowtoplaythemhard.

After spraying down the uniform with pre-wash stain remover, she set herself to

makingsometea.Andthentherewasanotheremailalert.

Well,shewasnotgoingtorushofftograbherphonebeforeshemadeherselfsome

tea.Nosir,noway.

Momentslater,whilethekettlewasbarelyontheboil,Remyherselfwasboilingover.

Shehadgiveninandreadtheemail.

CoachMattishadresponded.

“We might get another title, we might not. I’m not thinking about championships at

this point. I think I made my philosophy pretty clear in the first email. I teach baseball
becauseIlovethesportandIlikekids.That’sit.”

The kettle was boiling, so she typed quickly and hit send with: ”That’s very sweet.

Yougetastickerforrighteousness.”

Thereplyafewmomentslater:”Isatrophytheonlythingthatmatterstoyou?”

Whatanegoonthisguy,shethought.Hethinksheknowsme?Well,wearegoingto

settlethisonceandforall.

Shetookagamble.“Goaheadandhavetheleaguere-assignus.Clearlyyouarenota

goodfitforElliot.”

Thereplycamesecondslater:“Doityourself.”

Laterthatnight,aftertuckingElliotintobed,squaringawaytheday’slaundry,paying

billsandwashingdishes,shecuddledupinbedalonewithherstripedathleticsockspulled
allthewayuptotheknee,oversizedbaseball-stylenightshirt,hairupinamessybunand
ConanontheTV.Shedidn’tgetpeoplealldaylong,butshelovedthatConan.

Still,shecouldn’tjustrelaxandfallasleeptoherfavoriteTVredhead.Sheneededto

sendonemoreemail.

“I heard you teach at the high school. Let’s discuss this tomorrow during your free

period?Ithinkwe’renotaccomplishinganythingoveremailtonight.”Send.

Actually, she had not “heard” about him teaching anything. She had straight up

Googledhim.

Andwiththat,shesetherphoneonDoNotDisturbindefinitely.

Troy

omorrow?No.Oh,hellno.Whodoesshethinksheisthatshethinkshe’sgoingto
takeameetingwithabaseballparentwhilehe’satschool?

Freeperiodswereforworkandmeetingwith,ohyeah,parentsofstudentswhowere

actuallyhishighschoolEnglishstudents.Notpsychobaseballmoms.Andhetoldheras
much.

Well,notinsomanywords.Inhisexhaustedstatethatnighthesimplystated,“Busy,

talktomeAFTERpracticetomorrow.”

Ashedriftedofftosleep,hewonderedjustwherethiswomangotofftreatingcoaches

likethis.Howhadshenotgottenherselfandherkidkickedoutoftheleagueyet?Hewas
certainothercoachesdidn’thavetoputupwithhalfthisshit.Didthey?

Still, when he closed his eyes, he saw those brown eyes, those paintbrush-long

eyelashes,thosetannedthighs,andwhoa,thatass.

Troy’s half-asleep and half-awake state had him imagining his pillow was her ample

breasts and the blankets were her legs idly curled around his body. His brain somehow
wassoothedbythisthought,thoughitmadenosense.

Maybetheidledreamsofherbeinginhisbedwouldmakemoresenseifhetookaway

herphonefirst.

“W

Remy

oman,youhavecrossedaline.”

Remystaredintothecoach’seyes,whichsmolderedbackatherinsomethingbeyond

annoyancenow.Itfelttoherlikewhite-hotanger.

“IdowhateverIhavetodotowin.”

“This is my job. You can’t come to my job and harass me. I’m sure this isn’t even

allowed.Youneedtoleave.”

Remysmiled,remainingcalm.“Ifthatweretrue,theofficeneverwouldhavetoldme

whenyourfreeperiodis.”

“Don’tyouworkduringtheschoolday?”askedCoachMattis.

“Ido,IworkfromhomesoIcanbethereforElliotwheneverpossible.Andthisisa

situationinwhichElliotneedsme.Becauseyouaretheonewhohascrossedaline.”

Hesneered.“Mustbenice.”

Shesquaredhershoulders.“It’snotniceatall.Idon’tmakeallthatmuchmoneyand

it’shard.Ineedanewcar,butIcan’tdealwithacarpaymentatthemoment.Iwouldlove
toeatout,butwedon’teatout.EverythingImakegoestopayrent,gas,thelightbill,feed
Elliotandpayathleticfees.ShouldIgoon?IamnotwhoyouthinkIam.”

Heshookhishead.“Idon’tthinkanything.OtherthanIthink,again,thatyoushould

leave.”

Remy put her hand up in surrender. ”I will leave, just hear me out. Two minutes of

yourtimeandthenI’llleaveandI’llneverdothisagain.”

God,helookedsexyinthatbutton-downOxfordshirt,thetopbuttonundone,thelight

blueaccentinghistannedskinandblueeyes.

Hesighed.“IcannotbelieveI’magreeingtothis,butgoahead.”

He folded his arms across his chest and his forearms were exposed by his rolled-up

sleeves. He had long, conditioned arms. Sinews like his were such a turn-on for her,

especiallywhenthosearmswereconnectedtobighands,withlongcapablefingers.

Focus,Remy.

“Alittletintrophyisnottheonlythingthatmatterstome.”

“Well,itsureseemsthatway,”heinterrupted.

“It’s not that, I just want Elliot to be the best he can be. I want him to know that I

foughtashardasIcouldsohecouldachievehisdreams.NobodyevergavemethepushI
neededtosucceed.Andbeinghereatthishighschoolagainisonlyremindingmeofall
mymistakes.BelievemewhenIsayIhavenodesiretobehereinthesehallsanymore
thanyouwantmehere.ButIneedyoutounderstandsomethingaboutElliot.Heneedsto
stayfocused.Ifhelosesfocus,hewillloseinterest,andthenhe’llstartgettinginterested
inotherthings.Girls,drugs,whoknowswhat.”

Troy blinked at her. “Wow. This is not about him at all. This is about you and your

problems.”

“Myonlyproblemrightnow?Isyou.”

“Thentakehimofftheteam.Youmadeitprettyclearinyouremailyoumightdothat.

What’sstoppingyou?”

Uhoh.Sheshouldbacktrack,butthatwouldbeasignofweakness.“Youunderstand

thatifIpullhimfromtheteam,youlose.That’sit.”

Hetookastepclosertoher.“AndyouunderstandthatIdon’tcareallthatmuchabout

winning.Thesekidsareinmiddleschool.Peoplelikeyouaregoingtoteachhimtohate
thegame.It’stoxic.”

“Didyoujustcallmetoxic?”

“No,Icalledyourattitudetoxic.”

Shetookastepclosertohim.Shewasnotgoingtobetalkedtothatway.“Soyou’re

justcallingmeabadparent.”

“No, I’m not. But clearly open communication is not your thing, so if you’re done

here…”

“Hedoesn’thatethegame.Helovesbaseball.Helovespitching.”

“Icanseethat.Buthisconcentrationonpitchingiscostinghimhisabilitytofirethe

ballanywhereelse.Hecan’tthrowtofirstbase.”

“Well,Iguessit’syourjobtoteachhim.”

Heuncrossedhisarmsandfurrowedhisbrowather.“Areyoudonetellingmehowto

coach?”

“Notevenclose.”

“Whyareyouarguingwithmeifyouclearlydon’tagreewithmymethods?Whycan’t

youjustquietlygoaway?”

“YoureallywanttodothattoElliot?He’sbeeninyouthleaguesincehewasplaying

tee ball at 3. These kids have all been on the same team together since the age of 9. It
wouldbreakhisheart.”

Troyleanedinandsmirked.Shecouldsmellhisaftershave.Itwasn’ttheobnoxiously

strongkind.Asubtlescentofsandalwood.“Yousaidlastnightweweren’tagoodfitand
youwantedhimassignedtoanewteam.Woulditbreakhisheart?Orwoulditbreakyour
heart?”

CoachTroywasleaningintooclosenow.Hewasdefinitelyinherpersonalspace.

“I’mnotlivingvicariouslythroughmykid,ifthat’swhatyou’reimplying.”

His voice dropped lower and quieter and sent a shiver across the back of her neck.

“Thenwhydidyoutrytobluffme?What’syourangle?Becauseitsuredoesn’tseemlike
you’relivingforyourself.”

Sheswallowed.Washecomingontoher?Wasshereadingthisright?“Whatdoesit

mattertoyou?”

“Because you’re in my face. Because one minute you try to bluff me, then the next

minuteyou’retryingtoreasonwithme.BecauseIthinkyou’refullofyourselfandyou’re
alltalkandnosubstance.”

“I’mgoingtofileacomplainttotheleagueaboutyou.”

“Ihavethisfeelingyouwon’t.”

“Iwon’tifyoudorightbymyson.”

“Whataboutyou?”

“Whataboutme?”

“Itseemslikeyoucouldusealittlefun.”

Whydoeseveryonekeepsayingthat?

“Ohyeah?Well,ifyoueverbecomeasingledad,feelfreetotellmehowmuchLive-

Your-Best-LifeMeTimeyougeteveryday,”shesaid.

“Don’tpreachatme,Idon’tlikeit.Andifyoudon’tlikethewayIcoach,youarefree

to leave. If you don’t leave, then feel free to stay and suck it up. Watch what happens
whenyouinterfere.I’llbaryoufromthegame.”

“Oh,you’llbarmefromthegames?”Nowhewasoutofline.

“Practices, games, everything. I can’t have you acting all crazy in the stands at my

kids’games.You’reunhinged.”

“Tryit,”shechallenged.

“Watchme,”hesaid,arumbleofwarninginhisvoice,hiseyesnarrowingather.

“Whatmakesyouthinkyoucantalktomelikethat?”shesaid,swallowing.Hewas

veryclosenow.Tooclose.

“Becauseyou’restillhereandyouaren’tbackingaway.”

Whentherewasn’tanypossiblewaytogetcloserandmisinterpretthecloseness,Troy

leanedinandmadesureofit.

Troy

llofthealarmbells.Allofthemclangedinhisheadlikehewasabouttomake
thebiggestmistakeofhislife.

“Youknowwhatyouneed,Mrs.Dawson?”

He saw her swallow again and moisten her lips, the anger still flashing in her wide

eyes.

“Oh please, do tell me,” Her words were still resolute, but there was need in the

depths.Hecouldhearit.

“Youneedtofuckinggetlaid.”

Whatareyoudoing?Youcan’tstandthiswoman.

“You’redisgusting,”shespat.

“Andyou’refuckingcrazy,”hehissed.

Troywasnotinterestedinlisteningtohisvoiceofreasonorthealarmbellsgoingoff.

Hewasveryinterestedinshuttingherupwithhislips.

Beforeheknewit,hewasforcefully,angrilykissingherandshewashungrilykissing

himback.Ohshit.Thiswasbetterthanheimagined,butsowrong.

This was a terrible idea, kissing a baseball mom. Not just any baseball mom. Remy

Dawson,thecraziest,pushiest,mostuppityofthemall.

ButGod,hecouldnottakebeingclosetoherwithoutthinkingofkissingthoselips,

beingthecauseofsomeshockandsurpriseinthoseflashingeyesofhers.

Finally,hermouthwasnottalking.Insteaditwaspassionatelyholdingontohiskiss.

Everything was refreshingly silent except for their kissing and her faint noises of

pleasureandneed.Theygraspedandtussledwitheachotheruntilhehadbackedherup
againsthisdesk.Therewasnoclassroom,therewerenokidsoutinthehallway,itseemed.
There was just this woman and her lips, opening for him. Her feminine curves pressing
intohischestandabdomen.Heknewshewouldnotadmititwithwords,butherresponse

tohiskisssaideverythinghealreadyknew—sheneededtobekissed.Hard.Sheneededto
fool around. Badly. She needed a man between her legs, to wipe that stern look off her
faceandchangeittowantonnessandecstasy.

Troygrabbedheraroundthewaistandpulledherintighter,pressingherperkybreasts

against him, hard. She did not object. She was furiously grabbing his shoulders and
running her hands up the back of his neck, to his hairline and back down again. Troy
teasedherwithhistongueandopenedhermouthmoredeeply,pressinghungrily.

They kissed like that, furiously and passionately, for many seconds. Maybe minutes.

Troyhadnoideahowlonguntilheheardthebellring.

Thestartlingclangbouncedthemawayfromeachotherliketheoppositeenergiesthey

were.Remystoodwithherhandonhermouth,eyeswideandroundandalittlescared,if
hewasn’tmistaken.

“Whatjusthappened?”sheasked.

Troy thought it was pretty clear what had just happened. He had meant to kiss the

crazy out of her. Give her a little taste of what life could be like when a person isn’t
completelyandover-the-topobsessedwiththeirchild’scareer.

Instead,allhecouldthinktosaywas,“I…sorry.”

Thenanotherfemalevoiceshatteredtheentirescene.“Don’tbesorry,Mr.Mattis,that

washot!”ItwasSophieFuller,oneofhishonorsEnglishstudents,ploppinghernotebook
ontoherdeskandsmirkingathimthroughtheofficewindow.“Ididn’tknowyouhada
girlfriend.”

Ohshit.

HelookedbetweenRemyandSophieandhonestlyhadnoideawhattosaynext.

Remywasdoingherbesttorecoverhercomposure,smoothingherhairandhertop.

“Well,I’llletyougetbacktowork.ThinkaboutwhatIsaid.Ihaven’tchangedmymind
aboutfilingacomplaintwiththeleague.”

AsRemywalkedaway,hecouldnothelpbutstareathertightblackyogapantsand

that round ass of hers. If the bell had rung thirty seconds later, Sophie would have seen
TroykissingMrs.Dawsonwithbothhandsfullofherasscheeks.

Not only were those cheeks jacked as hell, but they somehow swung seductively as

shewalkedaway,eveningymsneakers.

But nothing about that woman’s tight body in his memory made up for the fact that

Elliot’sthrowingarmwas,onceagain,fatiguedandsoreatpracticethenextday.

Infact,thekid’spitchingwasoutrightbad,ifTroywashonestwithhimself.Whatwas

goingonhere?

Afterpractice,TroytookElliotaside.

“BasedoneverythingI’veheard,thisisnotuptoyourusualstandards.Doweneedto

getyoutoadoctortolookatthatshoulder?”

“Nah,it’sfine.I’mjusttiredfrompitchinglessons.”

Troywastakenaback.“Lessons.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

ElliotlookedupathimasifhethoughtTroyalreadyknew.“Momsendsmetoprivate

pitchinglessonsthreenightsaweek.”

Holyshit.He’s13!

Elliot must have seen the shock and anger forming on Troy’s face because he

backpedaled immediately. “But it’s fine!” Elliot said. “I don’t mind! Mom says he’s the
bestwecangetaroundhereanditwillgivemeanadvantagewhenIgettothenextlevel
ifI’mastrongpitcher.”

Troy’s heart was starting to break into a million pieces for this poor kid. He was

simplyoverworked,allbecauseofhispsychoticmother.

Andwhatasobstoryshe’dfedhimabouttryingtomakeendsmeet.Sure,shehadto

payrent,butsheleftoutthefunfactofpayinggod-knows-whatforprivatelessonshow
manytimesaweek?Heguessedshehadtobespendingmorethan$150perweekforthat
muchprivatetraining,whichheknewaddeduptobemorethantheaveragecostofrentin
Middleburg. What a hypocrite she was, pretending they were poor when, if they would
giveuptheseunnecessarylessons,she’dprobablyhaveplentyleftovertofinancethecar
shesaidshesobadlyneeded.

Well,Remyneededlotsofthings.Butnotwhatshesaidsheneeded.Whatsheactually

needed were lessons in time management, anger management, money management, and
ohyeah,thatotherthing—togetlaid.

She may not believe he had her all figured out. But now he had the real scoop, he

definitelyunderstoodhernow.Shereallywastoxic.

“Listen, Elliot. I want you on my team. But I want you to take care of your arm.

You’restayinghomefrompracticetomorrowandthat’sanorder.Nothrowinganything.
NotsomuchasapaperairplaneuntilthescrimmageonSaturday.OK?”

Elliotnoddedinagreement,butlookedapprehensive.Nodoubthewasdecidinghow

tobreakthisnewstohismom.

Well,Elliotwouldnothavetobreakthenewsalone.Troywasgoingtohavealittle

talkwithherhimselffirst.

Remy

hat’sweird,shethoughtasherphonerang.RemywasonherwaytopickupElliot
frompracticeandyetshewasreceivingaphonecallfromCoachMattis.

“Hello?”

“Hi,weneedtotalk.”

Relieffloodedhertightchest.Finally,yes,theywouldtalkaboutthatkiss.

“Yes,wedo,”shesaid.Sheknewsheshouldn’tbeonthephonewhiledriving,buthell

withit.

“Thingsaregoingtohavetochange,”hesaid.

“Icouldn’tagreemore.Ishouldneverhavecometoyouroffice,andyounevershould

havekissedmewithoutsomegroundrulesfirst.Weshouldstartover.”

Thepausethatfollowedwaschockfullofawkwardness.

“Actually,” Troy finally said, “I’m calling to tell you to cancel the private pitching

lessons.Elliotisexhaustedandhisshoulderisfatigued.”

Ohmygod.Hewasn’tcallingaboutthekiss.OK,howdowerecoverinthissituation?

Shedidn’tknow.She’dneverkissedacoachbefore.

Butwaitasecond.Therealreasonhewascallingwastointrudeonherwholeentire

life.Again.

“You’retellingme?Well,Iamnotcancelinglessons.Rodneyhasawaitinglistamile

longandhe’dneveragreetopickusupagainintheoffseason.”

SheheardTroysighontheotherside.Ormaybeitwasagruntoffrustration.Onekind

ofcavemannoiseoranother.

“Ma’am, I don’t think you are hearing me. Your son is not fit to pitch because this

Rodneycharacterisruininghisarm.”

“You’rebeingataddramatic.”

Troymarchedonwithhismachoself.“IhaveorderedhimtorestuntilSaturdayand

youneedtotakehimtothedoctorinthemeantime.”

Thiswasashock.Totallyunchartedterritory.Thiswasanewlevelofinterference,and

nowitwasgettingdangerous.Elliotwasfine.Ifhisshoulderwashurting,hewouldhave
saidsomethingtoher.Thiscoachwasjustbeatinghischestbecausehefeltthreatenedby
another coach taking up Elliot’s time. Well, with kids as talented as Elliot, there will
alwaysbemultiplecoaches.MaybeMattiscouldnothandleitwithhisfragileego.

Butnowthecoachhadbroughtupdoctorvisits.Whichmeant,ifsherefused,hecould

complain to the league about her. Or worse, make an unfounded call to CPS—every
parent’snightmare.

“Elliothasnevercomplainedtomeabouthisarm,butI’lltalktohimandseewhat’s

going on.” She kept her words vague, not saying she would take him to the doctor, but
alsonotsayingshewouldn’t.Ofcourseshewouldtakehimtoamedicalprofessionalthe
secondElliotevercomplainedaboutpain.

“Ma’am,Idon’tthinkyouunderstandwhat’sgoingonhere.PerhapsElliothasn’tsaid

anythingbecausehedoesn’twanttodisappointyou.”

ThismadeRemy’stemperflarebutshetriedtokeepitundercontrol,knowingshewas

simplyexhausted.Hiscommentstriggeredherself-defensemechanism,butshedecidedto
givehimthebenefitofthedoubt.

“I’lltalktoElliotandwe’lldecidetogetherwhattodo.Ifhetrulyistakingtoomuch

on, then we will agree to fewer private lessons. We can go twice a week. Anything less
thanthatandRodneywilldropus,”shesaidwithaneventone.

Coach Mattis did not look happy when she picked Elliot up. She doubted there was

anythingshecoulddoasaparenttomakehimhappy,exceptmaybelettinghimmaulher
inhisoffice.

Yeah. Right. That was clearly a mistake. A mistake that was never going to happen

again.

Troy

trawberry-frostedPopTarts,check.

CountChoculacereal,check.

Peanutbutterandjelly,check.

Wrappedorangecheeseslices,check.

Chips,salsa,refriedbeansandVelveeta,check.

Troycheckedhisgrocerycartagainsthislist.Hesupposedheneededsomethingthat

hadnotactuallybeendevelopedinafactory.Somethinggreenandmaybesomefruit.

In the produce section at the Hy-Vee, he heard a man evidently having a heated

argumentwith someone, andTroy felt sorryfor the person onthe other endof it. As he
approached the apples, he caught sight of where the noise was coming from: a pale,
freckled,paunchydudeinatracksuit,blusteringintoaphone.

“That’snotgoingtoworkforme.Itoldyouhowwedothis.Icutyouabreakonmy

feesbecauseyousaidyouareonasingleincome.Cuttingbackwon’tbeenoughtomake
itworthmywhiletofityouallintomyverybusyschedule.AndIamvery,verysought
after.Believeme.”

Man,whatadick,Troythoughtasheapproachedtherowsofapples.Whoeverwason

theotherendofthatphonecallwasprobablyrollinghiseyesjustashardasTroywas.

Not particularly interested in deciding between apples, oranges or nectarines, Troy

keptlisteningashestaredatthefruit.

“Listen,Idon’tcarewhatthatpanty-wasteyouthleaguecoachhastosay.Ifyourkid

can’t handle it, then maybe this isn’t the right fit for him. Are you going to listen to an
English teacher or the professional? Yeah. That’s what I thought. All right, see you
tonight,doll.”

Holyshit.

He turned around and got a closer look. So that was Rodney. Shorter than Troy, and

smaller by about 30 pounds. Flabby. High-end track suit. Kind of a metro haircut. Gum

chewer.Bigtalker.

HewatchedRodneyhangupthephoneandstuffitintohisjacketpocketandmutterto

himself, “Whiny little bitch working that hot ass of hers, taking advantage of me. Well,
thatboatpaymentain’tmakingitself.”

Yep,Troycoulddefinitelytakehim.

“Excuseme,Rodney?”

Thefreckled,put-uponfaceonthemanwearingthetracksuitsizedupTroy.

“Who’sasking?”

“You’reRodney,theguygivinglessonstoElliotDawson,ifI’mnotmistaken.”

RodneytookastepbackandeyedTroyprecariously.“Whothefuckareyou?”

“Now,now,Rodney.Thisisasmallgrocerystoreinlittleol’Middleburg,fulloflittle

kids and sweet old ladies. You wouldn’t want to set a bad example with your language,
wouldyou?”

“What do you want?” Rodney crossed his arms in front of his chest, mimicking a

bouncerstance,asifhecouldeverdothatjobeffectively.

TroytooktwostepsclosertoRodney.RodneyputhispalmsupandtoldTroytoback

off.

Troykeptclosingin.“Listen,man,Iamnotgoingtohityou.Today.Ijustwantyouto

know,I’mthepanty-wastecoachofElliotDawson.Idon’tcareifyoucallmenames,butI
takeissuewithyoutalkingto—andabout—hismotherthatway.”

Rodney’stenseshouldersdroppedandhelookedaround,suddenlyfeelingbraveagain,

apparently.

“Oh,that’scute.Yougotacrushonherorsomething,boy?Whatdoyoucare?”

“Becauseshe’sahumanbeingandElliot’sagoodkid.They’reagoodfamily.”

Rodneylaughed.“Ohman,youdefinitelygotthehotsforthebaseballmom.Butman,

you gotta know she’s a small-town whore who got knocked up at 17 and never left this
pissantlittletown,right?”

Troy filed away this new information without any judgment. Well, no judgment for

anybodybutthissleazebag.

“First,hersituationisnoneofyourbusiness.Second,donottalkaboutherthatway.

That’syourfinalwarning,”Troysaid.Usually,that’sallittooktoshutaguyup.

ButRodney?Notthekindofguywhoenjoyedshuttingthefuckup.Hecontinuedas

Troy’s blood pressure rose. “Buddy, it is our business, whether we want it to be or not.
That’sthewholereasonforeverybody’sshitinthistown.Alltheseserioussportsmoms
got some goddamn baggage. That’s why they pay me the big bucks. That’s why she’s
lookingathersweetlittleangelboylikeherdamnmealticketoutofhere.Youknowthat,
right?”

“That’s not a fair generalization.” Although, he knew he himself had made that

generalization, recalling his own accusation of Remy living her life vicariously through
herkid.

“Lifeain’tfair.Lifeiswhatyoumakeit.Yououghtaknowthatafterwhathappenedto

you.That’sright,IGoogledyou,prettyboy.Iknowallaboutyou.Andnowyouain’tshit.
Well, I got a brain and I made use of it. I got out of Middleburg as soon as I got my
diploma,andnowIhaveacondoinDubuque.DoyouhaveacondoinDubuque?”

AcondoinDubuquesoundedtoTroylikeaprettyweirdbraggingright,buttheway

Rodneyspoke,you’dthinkitwastheTajMahal.Troyletthatslidebecausetherewasa
morepressingissueathand:howthisjokerwastreatingtheDawsons.

“Youcan’ttreatpeoplethisway.Youcan’ttalkaboutyourclientsthisway.”

“Icanifthey’remyclientsandnotyours.Howmanyyougot?Oh,Iforgot,youwork

fortheguv’ment.”

Troyignoredthisoddinsulttopublicschoolteaching.“Thesearehumanbeingswho

liveinmytown.Youcan’tjustworkElliotdowntothebonebecauseitmakesyoumore
money.”

Rodney threw back his head and laughed. “Dude, you’re a volunteer and a teacher,

whatdoyouknowaboutrunningabusiness?I’lltellyouwhat.Nothing.Youtryforone
daytobreakfreeoftheguv’mentteatandgooutonyourown,andthencomebackand
tellmehow‘nice’Ishouldbetosluttysinglemomswhobegforspecialtreatment.You’ll
be cutting breaks for the hot ones, too. Like this Dawson bitch, I got her in my sights,
man,anditdoesn’tmatterwhatIsay,she’snotgoingtofireme.”Heleanedincloserto
Troyandsaidquietly,“Youcansmellthedesperationonher,can’tyou?She’sdripping,
man.Shewantsanewdaddytoplaycatchwithherbaby?Wellshe’sgonnapay—”

Rodneyhitthefloorholdinghisjawbeforehecouldfinishthatsentence,alongwitha

loudclatterandacolorfulscatteringofitemsfromadisplayofseasonalplasticplatesand
margaritaglasses.Troy’sknucklesandwichtotheteethhadpackedasurprisewallop—a
surprisebothtoRodneyandtothehandfulofshoppersintheproducesection.Troyhad
runghisbellbutgood.

AsthestoremanagerescortedTroyout—informinghimthathewouldnotbewelcome

back into the local Hy-Vee, any other Hy-Vees, or any commercial establishments
belongingtoHy-Vee’sparentcorporation—therewasonlyonethingthatTroyregretted.
Notpayingforhisgroceriesfirst.

Remy

herewasaknockonthedoor.

Remylookedthroughthepeephole.ItwasCoachTroy.Whatthehellwashe

doinghere?Ohshit.

Dammit,hercarwasinthedrivewaysoshecouldnotpretendtonotbehome,likeshe

didwiththeJehovah’sWitnesses.

Sheconsideredjustnotansweringandlaterpretendingshehadnotheardthedoorbell

becauseshehadbeentakingashower,butshehadafeelingTroywouldnotbuythatstory.
Shealsohadafeelinghewasthekindofguywhowouldjustkeepknockingandringing
untilshewasfinishedwithherpretendshower.Remysighedandopenedthedoor.Troy
steppedinsidewithoutevenbeinginvited.

“Rude,”shesaid.

Helookedupset.“I’mrude?”AtleastIdowhatIsayI’mgoingtodo.”

Shefoldedherarmsandkeptherdistance.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

“I heard your friend Rodney yelling at you on the phone in the grocery store, and I

couldtellbytheconversationthatyoucaved.Youpromisedmeyesterdayyouweregoing
tocutback.What’sgoingonhere,youdon’thavetheballstostanduptohim?”

“Ididn’tpromise,IsaidIwouldthinkaboutcuttingback.”

“Anddidyoueventhinkaboutit?”

Shewasfeelingextradefensive.Thiswasthesecondmaletoshoutathertodayand

shewasprettywellfuckingdonewiththatnoise.

“I’mnotaccountabletoyou.”

“Actually,youare.Yousayonethingandthenyoudon’tfollowthrough.Thishasan

effectonyourson,whichhasaneffectonmyteamandonme.I’mbenchinghimforthe
practicegame.”

“Hecanhandleit.”

“Canhe?He’sthirteen.Whereisyourbrain?”

“Getoutofmyhouse!”

Hehadherbytheshoulders.“Whenareyougoingtogivethiskidabreak?”

“I took him to the doctor and there’s no damage!” She was telling the truth. “Just

musclefatigue.So,whenareyougoingtolethimpitch?”

“MaybeIshouldmakeyoupitch.”

“You’rehilarious.”

“No,really,comeon.Outside,rightnow.”

“I’mnotgoinganywherewithyou.”

Buthisfacesaidotherwise.Andshedidfeelguilty.Rodneyhadthreatenednottojust

cutbackbuttofirethemasclientscompletelyifshecutbacktotwolessonaweek.

Shewasnearlyintears,havingbeencaughtbetweenarockandahardplace.

“Outside.”Troywasdeadserious.

Remydidn’tknowwhathehadplanned.Helookedscaryandpissed.

Heraisedhiseyebrowslikehewastalkingtoaninsolentchild.“Youcometomyjob

andharassme?Icometoyourhouseandharassyou.Let’smakethiseven.”

Shegrudginglyfollowedhimoutsidetothebackyard,whereTroygrabbedaballand

twomitts,oneofthemacatcher’smitt,outofthebedofhistruck.

Hewordlesslyledhertothebackyardandplantedhimselfinthemiddleoftheyard.

Hepointedforhertostandtherenexttohim.Shedid,andhehandedhertheballanda
fielding mitt. Then he took the catcher’s mitt and trotted about 50 feet away, turned
around,andsquatted,facingher.

“Let’sseethatarm.”

“Areyoucrazy?”

“Probably.Let’sseethatarm,Isaid.”

“Idon’tknowhowtopitch.”

“I’llteachyou.”

He walked her through a set of instructions on form, and she sent the ball flying at

him.“Thatwasamileoutofthezone,buttryagain.Harder.”

“Whyarewedoingthis?YoudorealizeIdonotplayyouthleagueball.”

“Justdoit.Again.”

Soshethrewtheballagain.Hethrewitback,harder.

Thiswentonforseveralminutes.

“You’regettingclosertomyZIPcode,atleast.Tryagain.Putallyourweightintoit.”

“Whatthehellareyoutryingtoprove?”

“I’lltellyouwhatI’mtryingtoprovewhenwe’redonehere.”

Andthen,aboutfivepitcheslater,sheknew.Hershoulderwasstartingtohurt.

“Canwestopnow?Let’sgoinsideandtalk.”

“No.We’restillpracticing.Comeon,mama.”

After about five more pitches, her shoulder and forearm were very sore and she

complained.

“Aw,comeon.You’reyoung,Remy,youcantakeit.”

“Ican’t.Ithurts.Iwanttogoinsideandtalknow.Youmadeyourpoint,asshole.”

“Nope.Notimefortalk,timetopractice.”

“Isaid,you’vemadeyourpoint.”

“HaveI?”

“Yes,you’retryingtomakemeseehowharditistopitchagainandagain,andhow

I’mruiningElliot’sshoulderandthatI’mrobbinghimofdevelopinghisskillselsewhere
onthefield.Blah,blahblah.You’retryingtoshowmewhataterriblemotherIam.AndI
am!I’marealMommieDearestandyouareCoachoftheYear!Andeveryothermanin
hislifeissimplythebest,andI’mthebadcop.I’mtheonethathastosaynotoeverything
forthesakeofhelpinghimdobetter,andI’mtheoneeverybodyhates.”

Remycouldn’tstopthewordsflowingoutofher,andthenprettysoon,thetearscame.

Thewordskeptpouringoutofhermouth.Everythingshe’deverfeltaboutRyanbeingthe
fun parent, everything related to her worries about Elliot hating her. About all the other
momshatingherforwhateverreason.

“Igetit,OK?I’mahorriblemotherandahorribleperson…”

Remycouldbarelyseeafootinfrontofherandshehurledtheballwithallhermight,

rageexpellingoutofherwithawildgrunt.Theballbouncedoffthegroundandpopped
offTroy’sshoulder.“Hey!”heshouted.

She sat down on the ground and put her head in her hands. Her face was hot as the

tearsmeltedhermascara.Remydidn’tcarethatTroywaswitnessingthisintensemoment
ofself-hateandshame.Isn’tthatwhathemeanttodo?

Besides,shehadbiggerthingstodealwithatthemoment.Suchassigningherkidup

foralifetimesupplyofcounseling.

Troy

hoa.Hehadnotmeantforthistohappen.

Bycompellinghertothrowherwholebodytotheballeverydamntime

forahundredorathousandpitches,Troyhadonlymeanttoshowherthephysicaltollit
couldtake.

“Hey.AreyouOK?”

TroykneltdownonthegroundnexttoRemy.“Shh…listen,Ididn’tmeantomakeyou

cry,Iwasjusttryingtodemonstratesomething.Iwasjusttryingtogetthroughtoyouthat
Elliotisoverworked.Ipushedtoofar.I’msorry.”

He put a hand on her back and rubbed it sympathetically. Awkwardly, but genuinely

sympathetically.

Damn,heenjoyedrubbingherback.Allright,keepitundercontrol,man.Thiswoman

isprobablygoingtosueyoufor…something,anyminutenow.

All he wanted to do was show her how hard these lessons were on Elliot, and now

he’dmadeherfeellikeaterriblemother.Thatwasnothisintention.Nowhehadtohelp
buildherbackup.Howwashegoingtodothat?

“Mrs.Dawson.Remy.I’msorry.Iwenttoofar.”

Shesniffledandkeptherfaceinherhands.

Andthenhefeltlikeanidiotfornotofferinghersomething.“Ah,sorryIdon’thavea

tissue.Here.”

Hesatdownnexttoherandofferedherthebottomofhistee-shirt.

“That’sgross,Ican’tuseyourshirt…”Sniff.“But…well,OK.”Remywipedherface

onhisshirthemanddabbedhereyes.

Shelookeddownandthenstartedlaughing.“Youhavemymascaraalloveryounow.”

Helookeddownatthespotandchuckled.“That’sOK.Let’sgoinside.”

Hehelpedherupasshemutteredaboutfinallygoinginsideaftergivingtheneighbors

afloorshowfromthebackyard.

Insidethekitchen,sheblewhernoseanddabbedhereyes,pulledherselftogetherwith

thehelpofapapertowel.

Hekeptclosetoherincaseshefeltunsteady.

“I’msorryyouhadtoseemeugly-cry.”

Troydidn’tlikehearingherusetheword“ugly”aboutherself,inanycontext.“Ifthat

wasuglycry,thenIguessI’mdoneforifIeverseeyou‘prettycry,’becauseyoumightbe
themostbeautifulthingI’veeverseensobbinghereyesout.”Yep.Hewentthere.Called
herbeautiful.Shewasahardwomantodealwith,butshewasinatenderspotrightnow
andhethoughtsheneededtoknowit.Itwasacalculatedrisk.

Shesniffedanddabbedhernoseagain.“Iwouldtakethatasacomplimentexceptnow

I’mwonderingexactlyhowmanywomenyouhavemadecry.”

“Onlyyou,sofar.”

“Ifindthathardtobelieve.”

“Well,onanormaldayIwouldarguethatthatisaninsulttomytreatmentofwomen,

butinyourcurrentstate,I’mnotpreparedtosparwithyou,”Troysaid.

“Hello!?I’mnotsayingyou’reajerk,I’msaying…lookatyou!You’resomekindofa

demigodinMiddleburg.Alltheotherbaseballmomsareprobablythrowingthemselvesat
your feet. You probably make women cry because you’re prettier than they are and you
don’tevennoticethem.”

Troyturneduntilhewasfacingher.“WhywouldIcareornoticewhenIcan’tkeepmy

eyesoffyou?”

Remy took a deep breath. “You’re joking, right? You like my splotchy face and red

eyes?”

“Yes.Andeventakingintoaccountyourhuge-pain-in-the-assemailsandstalkingme

atschool.”

“So,Iguessthismeanswe’regonnatalkaboutthatkiss,huh?”

“No,ma’am.We’redefinitelynotgonnatalk.”

RemyfrozeasTroymovedalockofherhairoutofherface,thentookthenextstep

andsmoothedhishandoverherhead,combinghisfingersthroughthesoftbrownwaves.
Hestrokedthebackofherneckasshelookedupathimandgavetheslightestofsighsand
closed her eyes. In the next moment he was massaging her shoulders. She was tense. A
ballofnerves.Heworkedhisfingersincirclesonthebackofherneck,overthetopsof
hershoulders,thenbackupanddownherneckagain.

Helookedatherclearskin,watchingthegoosebumpsformonherchest—framedby

the V of her tee-shirt—and her cheeks flush. Her deep brown eyes opened and searched
for his. Her lips parted and he could not believe she wasn’t trying to say anything yet.
Troy leaned in, his hands getting lost in her hair and her scent. He rested his forehead
againstherforeheadandlistenedtoherbreathing.Itwasgrowingraggedwithneed,andit

wasturninghiscockashardasstonetothinkhewasthecauseofherarousal.Hewanted
everyinchofheronhim.Hewantedherwrappedaroundhimlikechocolateonafrozen
banana.

Troycouldn’thelphimself.Helaughed.

“What’ssofunny?”sheasked.

“Nothing.Iwasjustthinkingaboutbananas.”

Shecockedaneyebrowup.“Oh.Youmeanlikethisone?”

TroysuckedinhisbreathatthesensationofRemy’shandsuddenlyandfirmlypressed

againstthefrontofhisjeans,andthen,withoutwarning,herstrokinguntilhiscockwas
beggingtobesetfreefromhispants.

“Oh, I guess you do know how to have fun.” He smiled as his lips slowly inched

towardhers.

“No, I’m just a pleaser,” she said, continuing to rub him, making him need to feel

himself inside her mouth. She was slaying him, yet somehow they were both still fully
dressed.Whyhadhenotrippedherclothesoffyet?

“IhavetoleavetopickupElliotfromBrandtFuller’shousein20minutes.”

“Idon’tknowwhothatis,butIguesswe’dbetterhurry.”

They locked their lips together as desperately and as hungrily as the day before, but

thistimeTroywasfeelingsomethingelseastheykissed.Andnotjustaseriousboner.Her
bodyfitsoperfectly,leaningintohis,hecouldn’timagineanyoneelsefittingsowell.He
felt for the first time…welcome in Middleburg. Funny that the Welcome Wagon had
finallyarrived,broughttohimbythemostuptight,intenseTigerMomintown.

RemypulledatTroy’stee-shirt.Troylethergraspawayasheslippedhishandsunder

her top, feeling the soft curve of her delicious lower back against his palms. His lips
workedoverhermouth,andthenhebegantokisshiswayupherjawlineanddownher
neck,downintotheVatthefrontofhershirt,wherehecouldfeelherbreaststeasehimto
golower.Hishandsslidupfartheracrossherribcageandhastilyhelpedherpullhertee-
shirtupoverherhead.Herhardnipplesbeckonedhimthroughherbratohaveataste.

Hehadthoughthewasmostinterestedinherass—whichinhisdaydreamsreminded

him of the famous ass of that one reality TV star, the one with that show with all the
sisters, and the mom who was even weirder than Remy, the one that he never officially
watched,ever,andthatwashisstory,theend—butthosebreastsofRemy’slookedmighty
incredible.

Hefeatheredherbreastswithkissesbeforetakingsmallnipsatherhardbudsthrough

herbra,feelingRemyrelaxintohisarms.Alittlesexysighescapedfromherashegently
teasedherwithhismouth.Itoccurredtohimshehadnotanlines,anditlikelymeantshe
somehow sunbathed naked, which, where do you even do that in Middleburg? He filed
thatawayforthespankbanklater—theimageofthisdark-hairedbeautyspreadoutnaked
onablanketinherbackyardwhiletheneighborswereallatwork.Fuck,that’shot.

Remy’s hands explored Troy’s abdomen, and soon his shirt joined hers on the floor.

They attacked each other with renewed enthusiasm. His lips teased, his able fingers
squeezed. Her breath shortened, her whimpers of pleasure grew more intense. She
caressedhisbareabsandchestasifshecouldn’tdecidewhattoexplorefirst.Damn.

Her fingers swept over his shoulders, feeling his back, finally settling on putting her

handsinhishair,whichgavehimabetterangletokisshiswaydowntohersweetlittle
tummy.Nowhejustneededtogetherhorizontal.Timewasrunningout.Hersonwaswith
a friend, Remy could be late to pick up…what was his name again? Something familiar
aboutit…

Troymovedthingsalongbyreachingbetweenherlegsandrubbingthroughthefabric

of her yoga pants. He could feel her slit completely open up to him, and she wasn’t
wearing any panties. Troy slid his hands back around to her lower back, down her
waistbandandfinallyhadbothhandsfullofherass.Shewassomehowbothsoftandrock
hard.Jackedbutcurvy.Damn. Damn damn damn, he wanted her right now. The feel of
her in his hands made his mouth water and drove him to kiss her with an even wilder
intensity.

Hewasferociouslyhungryforherandhewastuggingawayatheryogapants.

Andthen,someone’sphonerang.

Remygroanedandpulledaway.“It’sElliot,”shesaid.

Well,thatwastheendofthat.Shit.Didithavetobe?Yes,itdid,youenormouscad.

Hecursedinhisheadagainandagain,buthecouldnotbegrudgeherthatphonecall.No
wayhewantedtokeepherfromherson.

“Sure,I’llcomegetyourightnow,sweetie.”

Afterhangingup,shelookedapologeticandembarrassed.

Notwantinghertoeverfeelthatwayaroundhim,Troyhelpedherputhershirtback

onandhetookcareofgettingfullydressedagainhimself.

Remy

hiscan’twork.Fuckhe’ssofuckinghotIcouldfuckhisbrainsoutrightnow,but
thenwhat?Ican’tmakethiswork.

I’m a single mom and he’s wild and free and hot and can get any one of the female

teachersatthatschool.

Man,helooksfine,leaningupagainsthistruckinmydriveway.Armscrossed.Those

dimples.Badboyflashinhiseyes.

“I’llcallyoulater.”

Remysighedandsaiditwastoocomplicated.“I’mnotateenagerwhocanbeatyour

beckandcall.IamatElliot’sbeckandcall,andeventhoughIagreeIshouldn’tpushhim
so hard, it’s going to take a while for me to work on myself. OK? And also, he is my
wholelife.Thatpartisnotgoingtochange.”

Troytoweredoverherwhensheopenedherdriversidedoor.“I’mnottryingtochange

you,baby,I’mjusttryingtohelpyouhavealittlefun.”

Hiswordsandthesoundofhislowdrawlsentshiverspastherspineallthewayinto

hernethers.

Sheshothimawarninglook.“Don’tevenstartwithcallingme‘baby.’Iamnotyour

baby.”

Sheknewexactlywhathewasdoing.Herbrainwantedtokeeppushingback,buther

libido, that was another story. She knew that Troy knew the longer she was around him
andhisdimples,theharderhewastoresist.Sheneededhimtogoawaysoshecouldclear
herhead.

Remy got into her car and said through the open window, “You can go now, Coach

Troy.”

Heshookhishead.“Whatkindofamandrivesoffbeforeheknowshisladyfriendhas

drivenawaysafelyfirst?”

Outwardly, Remy rolled her eyes. Inwardly, his chivalrous attitude made her sex

reawakenwithpleasure.Asifithadevercalmeddownatallbetweenthephonecallinthe
kitchenandthedriveway.

Andthen,hercarwouldnotstart.Ofcourse.

Troysaunteredoverasshecrankedandcrankedtonoavail.

“Babe,Ihopeyoudon’tthinkIcausedthat.”

“No.”Shewavedhimoff.“It’smystarter.Andstopcallingmethat.”

“Couldjustbethebattery?”

Remygrunted.“DoIlooklikeIknowjackshitaboutcars?”

Troy leaned in through the window and murmured so only she could hear. “No, but

youlooklikeahotmamawho’sgonnagoinsideandtakeabreakwhileIgopickupher
son.NowtellmewhereBrandtFullerlives.”

“Ican’tlethimknowweweretogether.Whatwouldhethink?”

“Hewon’tthinkanything.He’s13,”Troyreplied.

Remy rambled, panicking at what her son, Brandt and Brandt’s parents would think.

NottomentionBrandt’soldersister,Sophie,whohadalreadycaughtthemkissinginhis
officeatschool.“Howaboutthis,yougopickhimupandI’llstayhere,andwe’llsaythat
Icalledyoutoseeifyoucouldhelpmebecausemycarwouldn’tstart.”

Troylaughed.“HowaboutIjusttellhimIcameoverheretoteachyoualessonand

thenwefelteachotherupagainstthefridge?”

He was truly infuriating. “Just go! He’s waiting. But do not say anything about

defilingmyfridge!”

Troy

hehotandbotheredcoachsatinhistruckandwatchedtheDawsons’housefrom
thestreet,abouttwodoorsdown.

HewashotforRemy.ButhewasbotheredbytheconversationhehadhadwithElliot

earlieronthewaybackoverhere.

“Rod’skindofadick,butheknowshisstuff,”Elliothadsaidontheridehome.

“Heisadick,that’sforsure,”Troyagreed.

“Howdoyouknowthat?Doyouknowhim?”

Uh-oh.Troyhadtocoverforthefactthatthey’dmetearlierinHy-Vee,wherehehad

laidRodneyoutflatandgottenhimselfbannedfromtheonlygrocerystoreintown.

“Kindof.Youknow…baseballpeople.Weallknoweachother.”

Nicesave,dum-dum.

Fortunately, Elliot had bought that lame story. Good. Troy didn’t want that poor kid

gettingdraggedintoanyadultdrama.

“Sohowisheadicktoyou,exactly?”Troyhadtriedtosoundinnocent.Curious.Not

looking for another reason to deliver another knuckle sandwich. Though he wouldn’t
mind.Rodhadaverypunchableface.

“He’sjustreallycritical.HetellsmeIthrowlikeapussy.AndIknowIdon’t.Ithrow

allright,andIknowhe’sjusttryingtomotivateme.Butman,he’sreallyharsh.”

Troy had clenched his fingers around the steering wheel. That was not the way to

motivatekids,hehadthoughttohimself.“Well,I’mhopingyourmomcutsbacktoone
lessonaweekifRodneyallowsit.Mypreferencewouldbeyouguysfirehimaltogether.
He’salowlifeandIdon’ttrusthim.”

Elliot seemed to be thinking on that for a moment. “My mom means well. She just

wantsmetosucceed.ButcanItellyousomethingelse?”

“Sure.”

“I kind of wish my mom had something else to think about. Something else to do

besides take care of me and talk about baseball. It’s fun and stuff, but I don’t think she
reallyenjoysit.Shelikesme.Imean,Iknowshelovesme.But…IguesswhatI’mtrying
tosayisIthinksheneedsaboyfriend.Isthataweirdthingformetosay?BecauseI’ve
neversaidthattoanybodybefore.”

Troycouldn’tstophimselffromblurtingout,“Youandmeboth.”

HecouldseeElliot’sheadsnapinhisdirection.“What?Whywouldyouthinkthat?”

“Uh.Noreason.JusttheimpressionIget.Imean,she’saveryniceperson.”LIE!“But

youknow,allparentscoulduseabreakfromtimetotime.”

Forbeingasmartkid,Elliothadbeenreallyacceptingofallthesesuperdumbcover

storiesforwhyTroyknewthethingsheknew.ThenElliothadgottenexcited.

“Hey,CoachTroy!Ihaveanawesomeidea.”

“What’sthat?”Troyhadasked,pullingintotheDawsons’driveway.

Elliot had gotten out of the car and before he slammed it shut to say goodbye, he’d

said,“Youshoulddatemymom!OK,goodnight!”

Troy had driven around town for a while after that conversation. Thinking. Freely

allowing himself to think about Remy Dawson. She was a handful. But so damn sexy.
They argued. But somehow all the arguing made him rock hard for her. She was
impossible. Yet she really seemed to enjoy kissing him. And touching him. And him
touchingher.Andnibbling.Andlickingandsucking.Andsqueezing.Andbackingherup
againstdesksandwallsandfridgestodomoreandmorefunthings,ifitweren’tforallthe
peskyinterruptions.

When Troy had grown tired of driving, he knew he wouldn’t get to sleep that night

without some kind of resolution with Remy, so now here he sat in his truck, parked in
front of a vacant house with a For Sale sign in the front yard. That location, he hoped,
wouldnotarousesuspicionfromneighbors.Hewaitedforthelightstogooutintheliving
roomandoninwhatheguessedwasRemy’sbedroom.

Troypickeduphisphoneandsentheratext.

Remy

hewasjustsettlinginforsomeConanwhenshegotatextalert.

“Callme,”itread.FromCoachTroy.Shefeltdread,excitement,arousal,and

wonderatwhathewaswantinghertocallhimfor.

“Why?”shetextedback.

Amomentlater:“Youknowwhy.”

She smirked and typed away. ”That’s crazy. It’s late and I’m tired. I’m just going to

watchConanandgotosleep.”

Andthen,herphonerang.

Sheansweredonthethirdring.

“Whyareyouansweringonthethirdring?”

“What’sittoyou?”

“Youknowyou’resittingtherebythephone.”

“YesIam,butI’mtired,likeIsaid.”

“Babe,youknowyou’rejustgonnalietherethinkingaboutmyhandupyourshirtand

youwon’tbeabletosleep.”

“Youhavesomeego,CoachTroy.Andstopcallingmebabe.”

“Ilikeitwhenyoucallmethat.”

“What,CoachTroy?”

“Yeah,mynameinyourmouthgetsmehot.”

Shepaused.Shecouldnotbelieveshewasgoingalongwiththis,butshitifhisvoice

wasn’tevensexieroverthephone.“Whatwouldyoulikemetodoaboutit?”

Hesighed,anditsentshiversdownherback.“Youdon’thavetodoanything.I’mjust

goingtositherelisteningtoyoubreatheuntilIcome.”

“Whereareyou?”

“Sittinginmytruckoutsideyourhouse.”

“What?!Stalkbaseballmomsmuch?”

“No,justyou.”

“Whatdoyouwant?”

“Rodney’sanasshole.Wehadsomewords.Hemadesomethreats.I’mjustgoingto

stayouthereforawhileandmakesureyou’resafe.”

“Weakexcuse.”

“Allright,I’llgo.”

“No…stay.”Shebitherlipandthentotallyobliteratedheroneruleaboutdatingasa

singlemom:bringingmenovertothehousewhileElliotwashome.“Elliot’sasleep,you
cancomeinside.”

Troy

hoa,hewasnotexpectingthat.But,no,hedidn’twanttoriskElliotwaking
up.

“Haveyouevercomewhileonthephonebefore?”

“Ofcoursenot,”shesaid.

“Thenit’sabouttime.”

“Weird.”

“Notweirdatall.Reallyfuckinghot.”

“ThenItakeityouhavehadplentyofphonesex.”

“Isthiswhatyouwanttodo?Youwanttohearaboutmypastphonesexpartners?”

“Gross.No.”

“OKthen.”

“You’veprobablydonephonesexwithTammy.”

“Who?”

“Comeon.Will’smom,playsfirstbase?Herhusbandisoutoftownonbusinessalot

butleavesherplentyofallowancemoney,asshecallsit,togetthingslikeboobjobsand
LandRovers.”

“Doesn’tringabell.”

“You’refuckingwithme.”

“Iamveryliterallytryingtofuckwithyou,Remy.Areyouhotyet?”

“I’mnottellingyouthat.”

“That’skindofhowphonesexworks.Youtellmeexactlyhowturnedonyouareand

thenIturnituptoeleven.”

“Eleven,whatdoesthatmean?”

“SpinalTap.”

“…aspinaltapisnotremotelysexy.”

“No,themovie.”

“…Idon’tknowwhat’shappeningrightnow.”

“Nevermind.OK.Let’srewind.Remy,howlonghasitbeensinceyouhadsex?”

“Noneofyourbusiness.”

“No,Remy.Babe.Justmakesomethingup.Playalong.It’sagame.”

“OK.Um…IguessnotsinceRyanandIsplitup.”

“Andhowlongagowasthat?”Troyexpectedhertoreplywithayear,twoyears.But

honestlyTroyhadnoideahowlongRyanandRemyhadsplit.

“Like…tenyears.”

Whoa.

Troyhadtopresspauseforamoment.Ononehand,thiswasalotofpressure.Kindof

almostavirgin.However,ontheplusside,shehadtobehornyasallhell.Kindoflikea
virgin.Butalso,didhewanttoberesponsibleforbreakingthesealonthat?

Yes.Yeshedid.Hewentforit.

“OK,we’llgoslow.Whereexactlyareyousittingandwhatareyouwearing?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m sitting up in bed, against the headboard,

withaboutahundredpillows.MyhairisupbecauseI’vegotonamudmask.Verysexy.
And I have on a pink and white sporty V-neck football nightshirt kind of thing with the
number23onthefrontandpinkandwhitestripedkneesocks.”

Hetriednottolaugh.“Kneesocks,huh?”

“It’sasensorything,IlikepressureonmylegswhenIsleepandalsoIlikemysocks

tomatchmypajamas,justbecause.”

“Thatsoundsunbelievablysexy,andI’mnotevenkidding.”

“Well,comeoninandkissmewithmymudface,then.”

“Areyouwearingpanties?”

Hecouldpracticallyhearherblushingoverthephone.“Panties,yes.Bra,no.Inever

wearabrainmyhouse.”

“Ithinkyoulookhotwithoutabra.”

“Haha,sure,ifyoutakeintoaccountmyageand…”

Troyinterruptedher.“Thekeytomakingphonesexworkisyoudonotrunyourself

down.IfItellyouyou’resexy,thenyou’reseriouslyfuckingsexyandthat’sit,OK?”

“OK.sorry.”

“Anddonotapologize.Alsonotsexy.”

“OK.Sowhatareyouwearing?”

“I’m totally buck naked, sitting in my truck, looking at your window and touching

myself.”

“Naked?!Somebodyisgoingtocallthecops!”

“Babe.It’sfantasy.Playalong.”

“Oh. Right. Moving along then. I’ll just pretend and tell you I’m wearing some hot

littlelacepanties.”

“Thereyougo.Mostimportant,aretheywetyet?”

“Gettingthere.”

“Slipyourhandunderyournightshirt,hikeitup,andtouchyourbreastsforme.”

Shepausedandthensaid,“I’mdoingit…andI’mrubbingthem.”

“They feel good, right? I can’t wait to get my hands on them and kiss them again.

Touchyournipples.Getthemniceandfuckingtight.”

Shesighed.“Yes,Troy.”

Hecouldhearrustlingofsheetsandblankets.“Nowreachdownandslipyourpanties

off.”

Morerustlingsounds.

“Mypantiesareoff.”

“Good.Tellmeaboutyourbush.”

“It’sshaved.”

“That’ssohot,baby.Touchyourself,pretendI’mmassagingyouthere.”

Anothersigh.“Thatfeelsgood.”

“Areyouwetformeyet?”

“MykneesareapartandI’msoaked.EverytimeyouspeakIgetwetter.”

This woman was about to drive him off a cliff. “Is it safe to put me on speaker

phone?”

“Yes,done.”

“Goodgirl.Rolltoyourside.Iwanttogetahandfulofthatfineassofyours.”

“Done.”

“Areyoumassagingyourass?”

“Yes.It’sprettysorefromthegym.”

“I’llbetitis.I’llbetyoudoashittonofsquatseveryday.”

“Howdidyouknow?”

“Because your ass is jacked. It’s so nice, juicy and tight. Imagine I’m taking a little

nibble.”

“Itfeelsgood,baby.”

“Keep your fingers in between your lips. Pretend I’m massaging your sore muscles

withonehandandpushingintoyouwiththefingersonmyotherhand.”

“OhTroy.”

She was starting to breathe heavily, and his cock was so hard it was about to tear

throughhisbutton-flies.Heunfastenedthem.Hegrabbedhisemergencyblizzardblanket
fromthebackseatandslippeditoverhislap.Helookedaround;therewasnobodyonthe
street.Blessingofsmalltowns.Everyonewasintheirhomeby9p.m.

“Remy,myhandisaroundmycockandIwantyouonitsobadIcanhardlybreathe.”

“Isitbig?”

“You’llfindoutverysoonwhenIputitinyou.”

“I’msureit’sbig.I’llhavetoputsomelubeonitforyou.I’mwarmingitupwithmy

hands.Rubbingitonyounow.”

Troysmiled.Shecaughtonreallyquickly.“Thatfeelsgood.”

“Troy.”

“Remy.”

“ItgetsmeevenwettereverytimeIhearyousaymyname.”

“Troy,Iwantyourhardcockinmerightnow.Iwishyouwouldjustcomeinsideand

getsome.”

“Notnow.Soon,baby.Nowstrokeyourselfwithbothhands.Onehandonyourclit,

theotherhandguidingmyshaftinsideyou.”

“Icouldgetmyvibrator.”

“Aslongasyoucloseyoureyesandpretendit’smemakingyoucome.”

Inamomentheheardthelowbuzzingsoundandheardhersuckinherbreathandsigh

again.

“You’rein.Youfeelamazing.YoumustbehugebecauseI’mtotallyfullofyou.”

Troystrokedhimselfupanddownwithgraduallyincreasingintensity.“Remy.You’re

amazing.”

“Troy,I’mcoming…”shecriedout.Troycouldpracticallyfeelherconvulsingaround

himashishandsworkedonhimself.Heclosedhiseyes.Hersighsandsexylittlemoans
andtheimagenowburnedintohisbrainofhermakingherselfclimax,hereyesclosed,her
soft,delectablelipsparted,thinkingabouthim…Itwasjusttoomuch.Heexplodedinto
theblanket.

“Ohgod,Remy.”

“Howdomylegsfeelwrappedaroundyou?”

“Incredible. My hands are both on your ass, pushing in further, and I’m shaking all

overbecauseyoufeelsogood.”

Hecouldhearhergroanassheshiveredwiththelastofherorgasm.

“Baby,Iwishthisweretherealdeal.”

“Don’truinit,Troy.”

“Whereareyourhandsnow?”

“Onmythighs.”

“Iwanttohearyoukissingyourfingersforme.Pretendit’smedoingit.”

“You’readirtyboy.”

“Careful,dirtygirl,you’regoingtogetmeworkedupagain.Kissthem.”

Heheardhercomply,anditgavehimonelastshudderofpleasure.

Bothoutofbreathandsatisfied,hetriednottohurrytoomuch,buthewantedtoget

off the street and get home before some random dog walker spotted him and called the
cops.

“I’mgoinghomenow,baby.ButI’mtakingyouout.Whenareyoufree?”

Shepurred,“HowaboutyoucomeoverhereafterthepracticegameSaturday?Ryanis

takingElliottosomeconcert.Youcancomebackhereandwecouldsparandthendoit
forreal.”

Hechuckled,“Saucy.”

“Pillowtalk,right?Thisisusuallythepartwherepeoplecuddle,”shesaid,someofthe

snarkreturningtohervoice.

“Yes,”hesaid.“ButinsteadthisisthepartwhereIaskyoutogoonaproperdatewith

me.”

Remy

ittleblackdressorbaseballshirtandjeans?

What do you wear to a practice game after which you have a date to some

unknownlocation?

Remy had given in to Troy’s request for a date. She wasn’t so sure they would get

alongwellenoughtodoanythingbutfoolaround.Butmaybeifthat’salltherewas,that
wouldbeOK.Wouldn’tit?

Except, there was something else going on here. When she’d woken up Thursday

morningaftertheirlittlephonesexinterlude,hercarstartedimmediately.Shehadchecked
underthehood,andsureenough,Troyhadreplacedthebatteryinthemiddleofthenight.
Thiswasnottheactivityofaguywhojustwantedtomessaround.

Anyway, how long had it been since she’d been on a date? Too long. Saturday was

perfecttiming,becauseofRyangettingticketstoWeirdAl.

”Ithinkhekindofwantedmetotagalong,butI’drathernot.Feelskindofpatheticif

we’renottogether,”shehadlaughedasshetoldTroyaboutit.

Troyhadbeenmysteriouslysilentontheotherendofthephonecall.Thenhefinally

asked,“Isthereapossibilityyoumightgetbacktogetherwithyourex?”

What a weird question. The thought had never crossed her mind. She didn’t want to

makeTroyfeellikeanidiotforasking,though.Howwouldheknowwhatherrelationship
withElliot’sfatherwaslike?

“No. He’s a great dad, but we’re a terrible match.” She chuckled and said, “Kind of

likeyouandme.”

Troywassilentagain.Ohgreatjob,Remy.Nowyou’vehurthisfeelings.

“IjustmeanthatyouandIaren’texactlywrittenonthewind,amIright?Wemetthree

days ago, and what do we know how to do together besides argue, make out and have
phonesex?”

Troyreplied,“Well,Ihopetofindoutonourdate,butIgetwhatyou’resaying.”

They had hung up the phone before Remy felt like she had time to recover from

makingthe“terriblematch”commenttoTroy.Hesoundedterseattheend.

Well,whatdidhehavetogethispantiesinawadaboutanyway?Theybarelyknew

eachother.Arguingmadethembothhorny;itwasn’texactlyrocketscience.Hehadtosee
theunlikelihoodofthisworkingout.Hadn’the?Hewasjusthavingfun,justlikehehad
toldhertohavefun.Right?

But here she was, just having fun, and five minutes in she was hurting somebody’s

ego.

Shelookedfromthedresstothetee-shirt.Backtothedress.Maybeshewasn’tready

to date again. Maybe her emotional maturity atrophied after her split with Ryan. Maybe
shehadnevermaturedinthefirstplacesinceRyanwasherfirst,lastandonlyuntilnow.

Remysettledonwearingthebaseballshirtandjeans.Shealsodecidedtocanceltheir

dateafterthegame.

Sitting still in the bleachers on a warm, sunny spring Saturday afternoon at the

scrimmage did not improve Remy’s edgy mood one bit. All the other parents chatted to
each other about the upcoming season. About how impressed they were with the new
coach. About the brand new backstop, thanks to the field being purchased by BKG
Genetics.Abouthowthisnewcompanyboughtoutahugecattleranchwestoftownand
built a mysterious high-tech laboratory. About how the dad of the first baseman, Brandt
Fuller,gotanewjobthereandwassaidtohavetowearasterilewhitesuitbeforewalking
ontotheproductionfloor.Shehalf-listenedtoallofitbutcouldonlyfocusononething:
CoachTroyhadkepthiswordandbenchedElliot.

What.The.Fuck.

Ohyeah,shewasdefinitelygoingtocancelthisdate.

Elliot’steam,whichwassponsoredbyHawk’sDinerfortheumpteenthyearinarow,

ended up winning the game without his help against their cross-county rival, Mount
PleasantChiropractic.Afterthegame,Ryansauntereduptoher.

“What’sthedeal?”

Remyrolledhereyes.“Oh,thenewcoachthinksElliothasafatiguedshoulderfrom

workingtoohardonpitching,sohebenchedhim.”

Ryan squinted at her. He was trying to read her. Then he seemed like he was

examiningherhair,hermakeup,herjeans.

“No,Iknewaboutthat.IactuallykindofagreewithCoachTroyaboutallthat.Elliot

toldmeaboutit.I’mtalkingaboutwhat’sgoingonwithyou.Youlookawfullynicefora
baseballgame.”

“Practicegame.”

“Evenmoreoverdressed,inthatcase.Yougotadate?”

Remyblushed.NoneofthiswasRyan’sbusiness.“I’mwearingjeansandatee-shirt;it

doesn’tgetanymorecasual,Ryan.”

“You have on makeup and your hair is not in a ponytail nor in a messy bun. You’re

wearingyourgoodbra—“

“Hey!”Remycrossedherarmsoverherchest.Thiskindoftalkinpublic—fromher

ex-husbandnoless—feltlikeaviolation.

“Youlookhot.Youhaveadate.Admitit.”

Shegruntedandgaveup.“Yeah,well,Ididhaveadate,butI’mcallingitoff.”

Remy looked over at the field where the opposing coaches and the dusty kids were

shakinghandswitheachotherasthesundippedlowerinthelateafternoonsky.

Coach Troy was nodding and chatting with the other coach. The two of them were

laughingaboutsomething.Probablylaughingaboutthe“psychobaseballmoms.”Maybe
theyshouldgooutforbeersandTroycouldleaveheralone.

“Hello?Areyoustillwithme,Remy?”

“What?Whatareyouaskingme?”

Ryanlaughed.“Holyshit,youhaveadatewiththecoach!”

Sheshrugged.“Notanymore.Hejustbenchedourkid,incaseyoudidn’tnotice.”

She studied Ryan’s face, which was looking at her with both confusion and

amusement.Sherememberedwhysheusedtolovehim,orthinkshedid.Buttodayshe
couldhonestlysayshefeltabsolutelynoattractiontohim.

Whichwaswhywhenhesaidwhathesaidnext,shewasabletotakeitasadvicefrom

afriend,andthinkofitassuch,ratherthanfromhergoofyex-husband.

“Whathasonegottodowiththeother?”

“Elliotismywholeentirelife.Ithinkyououghttorelatetothat,Ryan.”

“Thinkofitthisway:youbothwantwhat’srightforElliot.Youseethathe’spushing

himselftohislimits.CoachTroybenchedhimbecauseheisgenuinelyworriedabouthis
armandhisshoulder.Heissavinghimforlater.Heisprotectinghimfrominjuryandalso
protectingtheleaguefromapotentiallawsuit.”

“AsifI’dsuetheleague,”shesnorted.“Ridiculous.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Because despite this Tiger Mom facade, you’re a decent person

whoknowshowtodotherightthing.Andsodoeshe.Troy’saconscientiousdude.You
shouldgoonthedate.Don’tletthisonepracticegamebruiseyourego.”

Justthen,Elliothoppedupandhuggedhisdad.“WeirdAlTime!”heshouted.

“Honey,”shesaid,“doyouwanttoshowerfirst?Youdon’twanttostinkyourdadout

inthecarride.”

“Nah, we gotta go,” Ryan said. “Besides, he didn’t even break a sweat today! And

also,wecanhandleeachother’sodors.We’remen!”

The boys both roared and bumped chests as Remy rolled her eyes. “At least stop by

yourhouseandchangeintosomethingnotcoveredwithdirt.”

“Whatever.Seeyoualltonight.”

“R

Troy

emy,whatisgoingonwithyou?”

“What?Nothing.Why?”

TheyhadspreadtheirpicnicblanketalongthepicturesquelittlestretchofCalebCreek

thatranthroughthecenterofdowntownMiddleburg.Nearby,ajoggingpath,benchesand
agazeboaccentedthispopularpicnicspot.Arrangedinfrontofthemontheblanketwasa
basketwithwine,crackers,goatcheese,pepperjelly,grapesandbabycarrots.

“I’mtryingtofeedyougrapesandgetintoyourpanties,butyouseemlikeyouhave

somethingonyourmind.AndasmuchasIdon’tcareaboutanythingotherthanmaking
timewiththatassofyours,andasmuchasIwouldratheryoubequietsometimes,Ican’t
rightlypursuesexytimeifyoudon’ttalktomefirst.It’smymoralcompass,whatcanI
say?”

“Charming.”

“Sarcasm.Allright.Ifyoudon’twanttotalk,wecanjustgohome.”

Shesaid,“It’sjustthatIdidn’tthinkyouwouldactuallybenchmyson.”

“Relax,itwasapracticegame.AndIdowhatIsay.Nowplease.Ihadtogoallthe

waytoMountPleasanttogetallthesegroceriesforus,sohere’sagrape.”

“Iknowitwasapracticegame.IguessIjust…Idon’tknow.”

Troylookedather.Shelookedpensiveanddistracted.Well,shit.Hewasjustgoingto

havetoworkextrahard.Maybehecouldgetherriledup.

“Oh,didyouthinkyouweregoingtogetspecialtreatmentbecauseyouletmestick

mytonguedownyourthroat?”hecajoled.

Nice.Notexactlyfixingthissituation,Troy.

“Troy, come on,” she replied. “We kissed and we had phone sex. That’s hardly

groundsforexpectingspecialtreatment.Ijustthoughtwehadcometoanunderstanding.
I’mtryingtonegotiatefewerlessonswithRodneyandkeephimfromtotallydroppingus.
We’ve been over this. Wait a minute…why did you have to go all the way across the

countytogetgroceries?”

“It’sfunnyyoushouldbringupRodney.HeiskindofthereasonIcan’tgotoHy-Vee

anymore.Isortofknockedhisblockoff.”

“Youwhat?”

“He’saprick,Remy.Hewasaskingforit.”

Remywaspinchingthebridgeofhernoseandclosinghereyes.Hedidnotunderstand

theproblem.

Finally,shesighedandletloose.“DoyouknowwhyIspendsomuchtimeandmoney

onElliot’sbaseball?It’sbecausehelovesit.Ineverhadaparentpushme.Oranyonewho
wasinterestedatallinanythingIdid.Ihadtomakemyownwayandnobodyhelpedme.
But now I feel like you’re holding him back. And you’re making me feel guilty about
wantinghimtosucceed.”

Troyfeltlikesuchanass.

Hereachedoutandmovedastraylockofhairoutofhereyes.“Baby,hewillsucceed

no matter what he does. You made a great kid. He is amazing because he is naturally a
greatkid…and,he’satleastonehalf…you.”

She looked off toward the woods. She was getting close to crying again. Shit, Troy,

howoftenyougonnamakethiswomancry?

“Thatboyismyheartwalkingaroundoutsideofmybody,”shesaid.

Troy had never heard that before, but it just about blew his mind. He had never felt

thatkindofloveforanybody.Notawoman,norapet,notevenhisownparents.Butnow
hereallywishedthingsweredifferent.

He proceeded carefully. “And don’t you want this amazing kid to have a fun and

carefreechildhood?”

Sheshookherhead.“HehasenoughfunwithRyan.Ryanisthefunone.”

“You’refun,”hesaid,tryingtonudgeRemyoutofherfunkandhandingheracheese

cracker.

“NoI’mnot.I’mjustamom.”Shetookthecrackerandnibbledithalf-heartedly.

Troyhelduphishand.“OK,stop.WhatdidyoudoforfunbeforeyouhadElliot?”

“Elliotisfun.I’mhappywhenhe’saround.”

“Ofcourse,butyou’velostyourself.”

“Iresentthat.”

“Thentellmesomethingyouusedtodo.”

“OK.Iswam,”shesaidwithashrug,poppingtherestofthecheesecrackerintoher

mouth.

Therewassomething.“Onateam?”

“Yeah, I was a good swimmer in high school. I even had a scholarship to swim in

collegethenextyear,butElliothappenedandeverythingchanged.Idon’tregretit.ButI
wouldjustliketoswimonceinawhile.Ijustlikebeinginthatwater.”

Hepouredheraglassofwineandhandedittoher.“Youcandothat,youknow.Water

isstillathing.”

“Yes,butwhen?”Shethankedhimandsippedthewine.Shewasstartingtoloosenup.

“Rightnow.”

“Troy,Iamnotgoingtoyourhighschooltoswiminthepool.”

“We’renotgoingtothepool.Getinthetruck.”

Shelaughed.“Thatsoundsominous.Whereareyoutakingme?”

“Doyoutrustme?”

“No.”Shesmirkedathimasshecontinuedtosipherwine.

“Can’tsayIblameyou.”

“Anyway,Idon’thavemyswimsuit.”

Troy lowered his voice and waggled his eyebrows. “You ain’t gonna need it, sweet

cheeks.”

Remy

inuteslatertheyhadleftthedowntownpark,packeduptheirpicnicandwere
leavingbehindthedarkeningleafystreetsofMiddleburg.

Troydrovethepickuppasttheballfields,theplaygrounds,MiddleburgHighSchool,

the VFW. About a mile farther down the highway, the pavement veered right and gave
way to a dirt path, and eventually the dirt path turned into a bumpy, off-road mudding
trail.

“Whatarewedoingatthespring?”sheaskedwhenheparkedbyachain-linkfence.

“Comeon,girl.”

He nodded up at the fence and started climbing. In seconds, he was over it and

hoppingdownonthegroundontheotherside.

“Well?”

“I’mnothoppingafence.Thisisprivateproperty!”

“Chicken?”

“That’s not going to work on me. I’m not nine years old. And this spring is part of

MorningGloryFarms,ifI’mnotmistaken.”

“YOLO,baby.”

“Ew.OK.I’lldothisifyoupromisetoneversaythatagain.Howdoyouevenknow

aboutthisplace?”

“Highschoolkidsliketobrag.Now,getthatassoverthefence.I’llhelpyoudown.”

Troywatchedherasshetooktothefencewithsurprisingagility.Hedidnotneedto

helpherdown,buthedidanyway.

Shehoppeddownandwipedherhandsonherpants.“Coppingafeel,eh?”

Hetookherhandwithoutawordandledhertotherocksattheedgeofthewater.He

removedhissneakers.Shetossedhersandalsontothegrass.Thesmoothrockswerecool
anddampunderherfeet.Inthemoonlighthestrippedoffhisshirt.Hisarmsbrieflyabove

his head for a second made her head spin. What was she doing with this gorgeous
creature?Howwasitshewasonadatewithhim?

ThenheslippedoutofhisLevi’s,andhewasdowntohiswhiteboxerbriefs.

Nice.Shefeltherselfblushdeeply,feltitallthewaydowntohertoes.Hecaughther

lookingandreturnedhergazewithintense,deep,darkdesire.

“I’ll get in first, and I promise I won’t turn around until you’re under the water,” he

said.

She breathed. Just offering to be chivalrous was enough to get her ready for some

action.Shemayaswellwearherpantiesintothespringbecausetheywerealreadywetfor
him.

Troy turned around and slipped off his undies and waded into the water. His toned

backsidehadmusclesthatrippledandglowedinthemoonlight.ItwastheassofaGreek
god.

Remy bit her lip and went for it. She slipped out of her clothes and stood on the

water’sedge.Shedecidedtotrickhim.

“OK.Youcanturnaround.”

Troy

henheturnedaround,Remywasstandingtherecompletelynudeinfrontof
him.Forhim.Alone,ontherocks,underthefullmoon.

Thesightofherwasmorethanheexpectedorcouldhavehopedfor.Thefactthatshe

waspurposelyexposingherselfoutintheopenforhimmovedhiminwaysthatfeltlike
waymorethanjustbloodtohismanhood.

He was feeling other things. Excitement to be around her. To discover she had a

spontaneousstreakafterall.Andasidefromallofthat,shewasthemostseductivelycurvy
femalehehadseeninalongtime.Makethatever.

“Remy,getinthewaternowbeforeIcomeupthereanddragyouin.”

Momentslaterthetwoofthemwerefacetoface,handseverywhere,lipseverywhere,

theirlegsconnectingandbendingaroundeachotherunderthewarmspringwater.

Troycouldnotfathomthelevelofarousalthiswomanwascausing.Hecaressedher

backsideandmassagedhervoluptuouscheeks.

Herlegrosetohookaroundhimononesideandhegrippedherthightoholdherin

place as she lifted the other leg. Now she was straddling him in the water, her legs
wrappedaroundhiswaistandherfeethookingtogetheratthesmallofhisback.

Troywasabouttoloseit.Hishandsworkedoverherassassheclosedhereyesand

sighed.

Andthenhetriedsomething.Justalittlesomething.Ashemassaged,heinchedone

handclosetothemiddleofherass,feelingherdeepareawherehercheeksspreadopenas
she straddled him. And then he massaged her there and found her anus. He stroked the
tender skin around it, and Remy sucked in her breath. His finger teased lightly over the
opening.“IsthisOK?”

“Yes.”Hervoicewasfaint.

“Yousure?”

“Yes.It’snew,butIlikeit.Iloveallthewaysyoutouchme.”

“Youhaveanamazingbody.Evenwhenyouareyellingatme,allIcanthinkaboutis

puttingmyhandsonyou.”

Shelaughed.“You’lldoanythingtoshutmeup.”

In response, Troy inched his free hand over her backside, past his other hand and

found her center between her thighs. She sharply inhaled at the surprise combination of
him stimulating her in two places at once. He then sank his fingertip in just a tiny bit
deeperintoherbackside.“Listentome.Idon’tneedareasontowantyou.Idon’thave
anyothermotivationotherthanyouareridiculouslygorgeousandlookingatyoumakes
me lose my mind. Getting close to you, kissing you, touching you is not a sacrifice for
gettingyoutoshutup.Ijustwantyouvery,verybadly,everyminuteofeveryday.Doyou
understandthat?”

Shesimplysighed,likelyunabletorespondthroughthefogofhimpleasingherbody.

Heremovedhishandsfromhercoreandgrippedherintohimascloselyashecould.

“Isaiddoyouunderstand?”

“Yes.”

“Sayit.”

“Iunderstand.”

“Good.”

Hethencontinuedtoexploreherlusciouscurves,reachingaroundtomassagebothher

clitandheranus,sinkingthetipsoftwofingersinthistime.

“Oh, that feels freaking amazing.” She nuzzled his neck and nestled her breasts into

him.Herfingernailsrakedalongthelengthofhisspineanddowntohisbackside,giving
him gooseflesh and making him shiver. His cock was pressed between them, eager to
plungeintohersoon.

Their lips found each other in the darkness. She tasted so good, like cherries, only

sweeter. He never wanted to stop kissing her. Her lips opened to him and he teased her
mouthwithhistongueashishandscontinuedtoexploreallofhermagicalcurves,peaks
andvalleys,madeallthemoresensualinthewarmspringwater.

HerhandsfoundhisshaftandTroyclosedhiseyeswiththeintensityofit.

“Yes, Jackson!” It was not Remy’s voice, of course, cutting across the darkness.

Someoneelsewasatthespring.

Andwiththat,Troy’sbonersaidgoodbye.

Remy

ittingatJacksonandMaggieClay’skitchentablewasnothowRemyhadpictured
thisdateending.

But,inhindsight,ifonegoesskinny-dippingonsomeoneelse’sproperty,oneislikely

togetcaught.Sheshouldhaveknownthiswouldhappen.

AndapparentlyifonegetscaughtbyJacksonClay,oneendsupinthekitchenhaving

coffeeandhomemadecookies.

“Thanks for everything, the towels, the hospitality,” Troy was saying, “and we’re so

sorryfortrespassing.AndIguess,thanksfornotshootingus.”

JacksonClayshruggedandsaid,“It’sfine,wecatchteenagersoutthereallthetime.

Doesn’treallybothermeallthatmuch,butIdon’twanttoencourageitincasesomebody
getshurt.Butit’snoteverydaywecatchgrownupsfoolingaroundoutthere.”

Remyblusheddeeplyandfocusedontakingalongdrinkofhercoffee.Itwasgood,

andsowerethehomemadecookies.

Maggie,wholookedtobebeyondninemonthspregnant,satatthetablenexttoher.

Remyhadseenheraroundtownbuthadneveractuallyspokentoher.ThisgaveRemyan
easywaytochangethesubject.

“Maggie,youlookamazing.Whenisthebabydue?”

Maggie looked shocked. “Wait a minute…I’m pregnant? Is that what this is?” She

gestured to her stomach. “Oh my god, I thought I was really bloated from all this junk
food I can’t stop eating. This explains so much now! The midnight muscle cramps, the
Pop-Tartaddictionalternatingwithboutsofnausea,thehemorrhoids…”

They all squirmed and eventually laughed as the petite woman continued her comic

descriptionsofherpregnancywoes.

Thank god they were done talking about being caught trespassing while naked and

wet.

Then Jackson was beaming like he suddenly remembered how happy he was. “We

weredueyesterday,butthebabyjustwantedtokeepuswaitingalittlebitlonger,Iguess.”

MaggielookedatJackson,andtheloveRemysawintheireyesastheygazedateach

otherwasalmosttoomuchtowitness.Maggiesaid,“Yep,it’sbeenastruggletogetthis
far,butwe’resoexcitedtomeetthislittlegirl.”

“It’sagirl?”Remyasked.“That’swonderful,I’msohappyforyou!Thisisyourfirst,

right?”

“Yes,Ihopeso,seeingasI’mnearly25.”ShewinkedatRemy.

BeforeRemycouldstopherself,sheblurtedout,“Yeah,Iknowitseemsyoung,butI

hadElliotwhenIwas17.”

Maggielookedmortified.Remyfeltlikeshit.“No,don’tworry,it’sfine!It’safact.I

wastooyoung,everyoneknewaboutit.I’msurprisedyoudidn’tknow,actually.Wasita
mistake?Yes,butIwouldn’tchangeathing.”

MaggiesmiledatRemyandaskedifshe’dliketoseethenursery.

Remy jumped at the chance to get away from scarfing down any more delicious

cookies,andhelpedMaggieupoutofherchair.

Thenurserywasyellowandteal,andtotallynotwhatRemyexpected.Thewallswere

decoratedwithlargepostersbasedonclassicchildren’sbookcovers,fromTheWonderful
WizardofOztoHarryPottertoAlice’sAdventuresinWonderlandtoWheretheSidewalk
Ends.Maggieopenedadrawerinthedresserandpulledoutapairoftinypinksocks,hat
and sweater. “Can you handle how tiny and cute this is? My biological mom learned to
knit in rehab. She hand-knitted a whole layette set. She’s over in Storm Lake in a
retirement community now. Jackson has been amazing about taking care of her after
everythingthathappened.Idon’tknowifyouknow,butIwasraisedhereonthisfarmas
afosterchild.”

Remy nodded, vaguely recalling stories about the large group of foster kids on this

farmnorthoftown.“Ithinktherewereoneortwoofyourfostersiblingsinmygraduating
classin2003.”

“Yes,thatwouldhavebeenDevin.He’sraisingcattleforoneofoursisters’genetics

companyaboutafewmileswestofhere.”

“I remember him, he was a handful,” Remy said, recalling frequent fistfights in the

schoolhallways.DevinHalpertwasusuallyinthemix.

Maggielaughed.“Yeah,hewas,andnowhe’sansweringtooursisterWynn,whoisa

seriousball-buster,sohe’skeepinghisnosecleanthesedays.”

“I just hope my bio mom stays on this earth long enough to get to know the baby.

Mama Jane will be coming home from Greece with her husband to help out around the
placeshortlyafterthebabyisborn.I’msograteful.Ican’tbelievehowluckyweallare.”

Remysmiled,butinsideshewasfeelingjustthetiniestbitjealous.Elliothadtwogreat

sets of grandparents, who had quickly rallied to support Remy and Ryan’s decision to
marry and raise a baby when they were practically babies themselves. A new baby girl
wouldbespoiledbeyondcompare.Boyorgirl,itdidn’tmatter.Elliotwouldbesuchan

awesomebigbrother,ifonlyshecouldmakethathappen.

She was finally yanked out of her own thoughts when she realized Maggie had the

shineofatearinhereye.Remywenttoherandputahandonhershoulder.Shebarely
knew Maggie Clay, but when a pregnant woman is crying in front of you, you do
something.

“Ohmygosh.Youmustbeexhausted!TroyandIneedtoleavesoyoucangetsome

rest,isthatit?”

Maggie shook her head and took the tissue that Remy had offered. “No, I’m just

happy.I’mgratefulandhappyandsadatthesametime.”

Remylistened.

“When Jack and I got married two years ago, I was already pregnant. We were so

excited,wetoldeveryoneweknew,rightafterthewedding.ItwasthehappiestI’dever
beeninmylife.ButthenIlostthebaby.Iwasdevastated.Jacktookitreallyhard,too.I
wanted to try again right away. Jack did not want me to go through another miscarriage
andwantedtotakemefortestingandallkindsofstuffbeforetryingagain.ButIknewit
wasjustoneofthosethingsthathappens.AllthetestingconfirmedwhatIthought—itwas
aflukething.Buthejustcouldnotgetpastit.Ittookatollonourmarriage,I’mnotgoing
tolie.Iinsistedwegotocounseling,andhedidnotwanttogotocounseling.

“Finally, it was Mama Jane who got through to him. Nothing the doctors said to

reassurehimworked.ButsomehowMamaknewexactlywhattosay.Andtheverynext
day,wegotpregnantwiththislittlegirl.ButIdomournthatbaby.Somepeoplethinkit’s
silly;itwaslessthaneightweeksalong.Butitwasstillapartofus,youknow?”

Remy was barely able to keep the lump out of her throat. She nodded. “Can I hug

you?”

Maggie nodded. Remy couldn’t remember the last time she hugged another mom.

Maybenever.Shedidn’treallyhavealotofmomfriends.Maggiehadanentirelydifferent
energythanotherpeople.Orperhaps,Remywasjustopentoitforthefirsttime.Shewas
lovely and warm and receptive and nonjudgmental and utterly, totally laid-back.
EverythingthatRemywasnot.

“So…whatdidyourmomsaytoJacksonthatmadehimchangehismind?”

Maggieshrugged.“Idon’tknow.Hewouldn’ttellme.IaskedMamaandshewouldn’t

tellmeeither.Shesaid,‘That’sbetweenJacksonandmeandtheearsinthetrees.’”

Remywasshocked.“Ohmygod,areyoukiddingme?Iwouldneverstopaskingthem

totellmewhatshesaid.”

Maggie shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of gal. There are

thingsIcan’texplainandI’mOKwiththat.Likehowpregnancyhassomehowturnedme
intoadomesticgoddess.Iliterallycannotstopbuyingcookbooks.ItoldJackIdon’tknow
ifit’shormonesorwhat,butyoubetterenjoythisnowwhileitlasts,becausethiscouldall
cometoanendassoonasthisbabyisout.”

RemywasthoroughlyenjoyinglisteningtoMaggietalk.Shehadacalmingeffect.

“Speaking of evicting this baby, can I tell you a secret? The reason we happened to

catchyouallskinny-dippinginthespringtonight?”

Remy nodded, trying to push back the embarrassment she still felt at remembering

waiting in the water while Jackson, basically a total stranger, brought them towels. “It’s
yourproperty,noneofmybusiness.”

“Well,I’mgonnatellyouanyway.Wewereouttherefoolingaroundjustlikeyoutwo.

Withtheaddedgoalofencouragingthisbabytocomeout.Sexissupposedtohelpwith
that.”

“IthinkIreadanarticleaboutthat.It’sfascinating,”Remysaid.“RyanandIwereso

younganddumbwewereterrifiedofhurtingthebaby,doingstufflikethat.”

Maggie blushed. “Well, I don’t know if it’s going to work or not, but it sure is fun

trying! Plus, you know how much lighter you feel in the water? Makes acting like
teenagersaloteasierandevenmorefuninthisstate.Lordknowsoncethebabyarrives,
it’llbeawhilebeforewecanactliketeenagersagain.”

Remyhesitated.“CanItellyouasecretnow?Troyhasmefeelinglikeateenagerall

overagain.Heis…”—andshecouldn’tstopthedopeygrinfromspreadingacrossherface
—“…intense.”

“Yeah?Howlonghavethetwoofyoubeendating?”

“IjustmethimonMonday.”

“That’shot,”saidMaggie.

“Itreallyis!HeandIhadbeenexchangingpissyemailsbackandforthaboutbaseball

—TroyisElliot’syouthleaguecoach—beforeweevenmet.IwassopissedIshowedup
at his school to have it out with him on Tuesday. And ever since then, we haven’t been
abletokeepourhandsoffeachother.Iknow,crazy,right?”

“It’scrazyromantic!”

Remyshookherhead.“Orjustcrazy.Ithinkwebothneedtherapy.”

So, now they were two young women having a sex talk. Were they actually friends

now?Remydecidedyes,theywere.

“H

Troy

owlonghavethetwoofyoubeentogether?”Jacksonsetdownhiscoffee,opened

thefridgeandofferedTroyabeer.Troygratefullyaccepted.Heneverunderstoodpeople
whodrankcoffeeatnight.Hewasmoreofalate-nightmicrowavenachoskindofguy.

Troytoldhimthewholetruth.

Jacksonlookedsurprisedbutthenimpressed.“Solidfirstdate,I’dsay.Trespassingand

skinny-dipping. I hope you’re ready for long-term commitment, because that woman is
notmessingaround,Icantellthatmuch.”

“Iam,andIdon’tknowwhybutIthinkshelikesme.Eventhoughwedisagreeabout

certainthingshavingtodowithherson.”HetoldJacksoneverythingaboutthepitching
lessonsandtheirdisagreements.

Jacksonsippedhisbeerandsmiled.“Yeah,it’samysterywhyanyofthemputupwith

anyofussomedays.Icanbearoyalpainintheass,I’msureMaggiewilltellyou.Butlet
measkyouthis.Doyouhavekids?”

“No.”

“Andyoutellherhowtoraiseherkid?”

“No, not exactly. Maybe I’ve told her I’m worried about what she’s doing

sometimes…”

“Andthatrightthereisgoingtogetyouintotrouble.Youmaynotlikeitbutyouhave

torespectherways.Aslongasthatkidisfed,clothed,loved,healthy,andpickedupfrom
practiceontime,thenyouhavenosay.”

“Theseprivatelessonsshe’sgothimin,though—”

Jackson interrupted. “Not your decision to make. Off the ballfield? You don’t get to

decidewhatisgoodforhimornot.Evenifyouendupmarryingher,yougettoshareyour
opinions,butjustrememberthat’salltheywilleverbe.Youdon’tgettotellherwhatto
do.”

“Idon’tthinkanyonehaseverbeenabletotellherwhattodo.”

“I’msurethat’strue.”

Troyswallowed,andhecouldfeelsomewordsabouttospillout.Jacksonwasagood

listener.“Idon’tknowwhyI’mtellingyouthis…Icanseemyselfmarryingher.Itmakes
no sense. We sometimes hate each other’s guts, but we can’t keep our hands off each
other.I’mnotsosurethat’sarecipeforbuildingalifetogether,butsomehowIfeellike
we’resupposedto.”

“Well,”saidJack,“that’ssomethingyou’llhavetofigureout.Youjusthavetodolots

oftalking.Lotsandlotsandlotsoftalking.That’stheonethingthatgotMaggieandme
through since we got married. We are solid, but we’ve been through some tough stuff
already. Relationships are work. Sometimes unpleasant work. Are you willing to do the
unpleasantworktokeepRemyinyourlife?”

“Yeah,IthinkIam.”

“Thenyou’vegotachance.”

“Ican’tsaythesethingstoher,sheisn’tready.”

“Thendon’t.Showher.Fewerwords,moreaction.Alittlekindnessgoesalongway.”

“Youmean,wooher?

Jacksonnodded.“Exactly.”

Troyraisedhisbeerandthetwomentoasted.“Towooing.”

Remy

emydidn’tknowwhattosayonthewayhome.Seeingtheextremelypregnant
Maggiegotherthinkingwithheruterus.Itamplifiedthedesiretohaveanother
baby,thedesireshehadbeentryingtotampdownforawhilenow.Itwaseasyto

tampthatdownwithoutamaninherlife.

But being around Troy made everything shift. Sure, they drove each other nuts, but

they were deeply attracted. She wasn’t sure that was destiny or just toxic. That was his
wordthathe’dusedaboutherattitude.“Toxic.”Maybehewasright.

Butthen,beinginJacksonandMaggie’shouseputawholedifferentlightonthings.

Theyhadacalmandcontentwayaboutthem.Theirlovewaseasyandgotthemthrough
thetoughtimes,alreadysoearlyintheirmarriage.Maybeitdidn’thavetobesofullof
drama and strife. Maybe she and Troy could make it work if they just listened to each
other.

Remy had allowed herself to have fun with Troy. That was all she had thought she

wanted.Ormaybethat’swhateverybodyelsewantedforher.

But hadn’t she known this would happen. You start out having fun and you get

attached.

Andnowshewasthinkingaboutbabies.ThatwasasurefirewaytomakeTroyrunfor

thehills.Notonlyareyougettingattached,Remy,youarefantasizinglikea14-year-old
girladdictedtoweddingdetailsonPinterest.

Whentheypulledinthedriveway,Ryan’scarwasalreadythere.

“Littledudehadtoomuchfun,”Ryansaidasthethreeofthemgazedatthesleeping

ElliotinthepassengersideofRyan’scar.

“Precious,”Remywhispered.

“Well,IguessthisiswhereIgethimoutandputhimtobed.Givemeahand,Troy?”

RemywatchedasthetwomengotElliotunbuckledandliftedhimout,Troytakingon

mostoftheweightofthelanky13-year-oldwetnoodle.

“You guys know he is not a toddler. You can actually let him walk himself to bed,”

Remycommented.

Ryan and Troy ignored her and exchanged some kind of a look, then Ryan said, “I

thinkyoucantakeitfromhere,bigguy.Seeyousoon,Remy.Andthanksforlettingme
takehim,eventhoughitwasn’tmyweekend.Wehadalotoffun.Wewaitedinacrazy-
longlineforanautograph,gotaselfiewithAlhimself.Itwasamazing.”

“Great.Thankyou,Ryan.”

Troy hoisted Elliot up into his beefy arms like the kid was no bigger than a baby.

Oddly, Elliot was not waking up. Good grief, what happened at that concert? Remy
wondered.

In the house, Remy led Troy down the hall and opened Elliot’s door. She quickly

removedallthedirtyclothesandbaseballequipmentandbooksoffthebedandwasgoing
to put them in their proper places, but she stopped just…to watch. Troy was easy with
Elliot.Hegentlylaidherbigbabyboyonhisbed,helpedhertakeoffhisshoes,andthen
pulled the blankets up to cover him. Elliot rolled over and said, “Hey Coach, how was
yourdate?”

RemystifledalaughbutkeptmostlyquietasElliotwasofftosleepinanotherhalfa

second.

“Well, I’m off to bed myself,” she said to Troy, clicking Elliot’s bedroom door shut.

“Thankyouforafun,criminalandtrulyweirdevening,Troy.”

Hesmiledanddidn’tsayanythingbutleanedhisfaceinandkissedhercheekbone,as

lightasapetal.

She leaned in for more kisses, which came lightly, then more deeply. She could feel

theneedpouringoffTroy.

“Doyouwanttostayforalittlewhile?”

“Areyousure?”

“Maybeitmakesmeabadmom,butIwantyoutocometobedwithmerightnow.”

Troy

royspoonedupnexttoRemyinherbedjustassheasked.Buthestayedontopof
the blankets while she got comfortable underneath them. Conan was on the TV,
and her head was cradled in the crook of his bicep and elbow. She fit perfectly.

Somethingaboutthisperfectmomentmadehisheartfeellikeitwasabouttocrackopen.

“Hey,”shesaid,“Whydon’tyougetunderherewithmeandgetcomfy?”

Hesmiled.“BecauseElliotisrightinthenextroom.”

Shegiggled.“Youdon’tthinkIcanbequiet?”

Hereplied,“Oh,youwon’tbeabletobequietoncewestart.”

Sheelbowedhimintheribs.“Ohyeah,youthinkyou’rethatgood,you’rejustgonna

makemescreamyournameallnightlong?’

Troykissedhershoulder.“Yeah,probably.”

“Whatever!”

Theygaveeachotherkissesastheyspoonedforafewmoments,andasmuchasTroy

desperately wanted it to go further, to keep going until they were both satisfied, he also
wantedtoshowherhewasgenuinelyhappyjusttobearoundher.Toshowhertheycould
domorethanargueandfuckaround.

“Whydon’tyougoaheadandgotosleepandletmespoonyou.”

“Areyouserious?”

“Yeah,Iam.”

“Why?”

Hegrinnedandteasedher.“Becausethisisafirstdate.Idon’twantyoutogetabad

reputationbecauseofme.”

Shestaredupathim.“You’reaweirddude.”

He waited for her to snuggle down and get comfortable, helped her fluff her pillow,

andturnedofftheTV.

“Hey,IneedtheTVontogettosleep.Thevoiceskeepmythoughtsfromracingina

milliondifferentdirections.”

“HowaboutIjusttalktoyouinsteadandyoucanfallasleep.”

“It’srudetofallasleepwhilesomeoneistalkingtoyou…”Shewasnearlydriftingoff

already.

“It’snotrudeifthat’stheplan.Justrelaxintoit.”

“Hmmmmkay.”Herwordswerestartingtoblurtogether.

As she closed her eyes and relaxed into the moment, he stayed on top of the covers

and held her in close. With her head on his bicep, he allowed that forearm to slip down
lowerandcuponeofherbreasts.Shesighed.Hewantedtoabsorbeverythingaboutthis
momentandburnitintohismemories.Hecouldnotremembereverfeelingthisperfectly
cozyandcomfortable,ever.

“I just want you to know some things about me,” Troy started. And then, his whole

weirdstoryspilledout.

He told it all to her as he watched her sleep, feeling her even breathing press the

blanketsslightlyintohisribs.

HetoldherhowhehadstartedoutinasmalltowninAlabama,playedbaseballinhigh

school and took his team to a state title. And about how he had gone on to play college
ballanddidwellenoughtogettheattentionofMajorLeaguerecruiters,whoassignedhim
toaChicagoCubsfarmteam.Hehadneversaidanyofthesewordsoutloudtoanyonein
Middleburg,anditwasarelease.

Thememoriescamefloodingbacknowthathewasallowinghimselftogothereagain.

And then about two years ago, he’d gotten called up to the majors as a free agent. He
playedlessthanoneseason.Oneday,whilestealingsecond,hestoppedsuddenlyandhis
MCL tore. Troy had heard a loud pop, felt the flood of intense pain and went down
immediately. It was an especially bad tear. The doctor said he would need surgery and
physicaltherapy.Hisstatsafterthatgothimsentbackdowntotheminors.

Butthepaincameandwent,anddoctorstoldTroyarthritiswasgoingtobeanoff-and-

onproblemnomatterwhat.Soherevertedtohisbackupplan.Hishighschoolsweetheart,
Ariel,wasstillinthatsmalltowninAlabamaandencouragedhimtotakeateachingjobat
herschoolwhereshetaughtmath.Thetwoofthemhadtriedanothergoatit,butitdidn’t
workout.She,alongwitheveryoneintown,hadwantedtotalkaboutnothingelsebesides
hisbriefcareerinprobaseball.

Meanwhile,Troyhadbeenlearningtolovehisnewjob.Theschoolwasfullofat-risk

kidswhowerebenefitingfromhisassignedjournalwriting.Thatwasaprettymachotown
and most kids had first seen this as sissy stuff. But they came around, and he had been
developingquitearapportwithsomeofthekids.

Buthisgirl,Ariel,hadkeptpushinghimtotrytogobackintobaseball.Perhapsshe

hadenvisionedherselfasabaseballwife.ButTroyhadknownhistimewasupasaplayer

andtoldherso.Arieltoldhimhelackedambition.

So Troy had broken it off with Ariel, and it got ugly. She then spread rumors about

Troyandhisunderagefemalestudents.Troyguessedshecouldn’tstandthefactthatshe
hadtostillseehimatworkeveryday.Herplanworkedintheend.Troywasnotfired,but
only because the board knew the rumors were untrue and the girl in question denied
everything publicly. But even though Troy had been vindicated, it made his work
environmentunElliotable.SowhensomeIowastateboardofeducationsentrecruitersout
tosomeseriouslypoorcommunitiestorecruitteachers,Troyhadtakenthefirstofferthat
camealongandgotthehelloutofDodge.

“SoIwantyoutoknow,”hesaid,speakingsoftlyintoRemy’swarmhairattheback

of her sleeping head, “that I love coaching. I love kids. But I’m a failed baseball player
andonlymaybeahalf-decentcoach.Youprobablydidn’thearanyofthis,butit’sOK.It
justfeelsgoodstayingitaloud.Well…itdoesnotactuallyfeelgoodtoreliveit,butitfeels
goodtohavesaidit.Ifthatmakessense.”

“Andoneotherthing.Iamfallingforyou,RemyDawson.AndI’mgoingtoworkmy

assofftoshowyouwhatthatmeans.”

Remy

ver the next few weeks, their alone time was sporadic due to their respective
work schedules and baseball season ramping up. Their time together consisted
mostlyofcanoodlingafterElliotwasasleep,orimpromptuofficepicnicsathis

schoolduringhislunchperiod.Andmorephonesexthanyoucouldshakeastickat.

RemywasbeyondreadytofeelTroybetweenherlegsandallthewayinsideher,but

forsomereason,hewasdrawingitout.

She liked it, on one hand. It was a delicious yearning she felt. The need was in her

headandhadherentirebodybuzzingalmost24hoursaday.Ontheotherhand,shewas
havingtroublefocusingonherwork.Ontheother-otherhand,itfeltnicetobewantedasa
person and not just for her body. On the other-other-other hand, she was really fucking
frustratedandhorny.

Sheknewwhathewasdoing.Hewaswooingher.Everydayhewasdoingreallykind

thingsforher.

The morning after their skinny-dipping date, she noticed her car had been washed,

waxedanddetailed.

Therestoftheweekhadbroughtsinglewhitedaisiesonherdoorstepeverymorning

andafreshflavoredcoffeefromHawk’sDiner,whichmadethebestcoffeeintown.Her
lopsidedmailboxwasmysteriouslyfixed,abrokenrailingonthestairsonherfrontstoop
was repaired. Their grass was getting cut weekly. She knew better than to give credit to
herlandlordforfinallygettingshitdone.No,RemyandElliotapparentlyhadabigol’elf
visitingintheweehours.

ThemorningofElliot’sfinalplayoffgame,therearrivedalargebasketfullofallthe

carbohydratesknowntoman,deliveredbyHawkhimself.“Ifyouwantmyadvice,don’t
marryhim.”

That was not the advice she was expecting, although who expects advice from a

deliveryguy,ortheguysponsoringyourkid’syouthleagueteam?“Whynot?”sheasked,
morecuriousthanputoff.

“BecauseIwouldloveitifhekeptthisupawhilelonger.He’skeepingmeinbusiness

allspringandhalfthesummer.Afteryougetmarried,that’sit.Nomorecroissantsfrom
him.Iguaranteeit.”

“No more croissants?” She took the basket and smelled the most heavenly scent of

breadever.

“Markmywords,”hesaidwithasmirk,refusinghertip.

Over a breakfast of carbs slathered in all the other goodies from the basket—

homemadepepperjelliesandgoatcheesesfromtheClays’MorningGloryFarms—Remy
couldfeelhersonwatchingherclosely.

Finally,sheaskedhimwhy.

“IlikehimandIthinkhereallylikesyou.Youshoulddatehim.”

“Elliot,honey,Ikindofam.”

Henoddedcasualapproval.

“You’renotmad?”

“Whatdoyouwantmetosay,youwantmetobeallafterschoolspecialandupsetand

embarrassed?I’mjusthappyyouseemhappy.”

Shelaughed.“Howdoyouknowaboutafterschoolspecials?It’snotevenathingthat

getsmadeanymore.”

Herolledhiseyes.“1980snostalgiaonYouTube,Mother.Learnit.Liveit.Loveit.”

“Itwasn’tevenathingwhenIwasinhighschool.Thethingsyouenjoywatchingtruly

worriesmesometimes.”

“Ihavemoretimeonmyhands,thankstoyoucancelinglessonswiththedouche.”

“Sweetie,InevercanceledwithRodney.Ihonestlycompletelyforgotaboutlessonsas

soonasIstarteddatingTroy.Hekindofmakesmeforgetaboutalotofthings.”

Asshemunchedonabagel,shestaredatElliot.Shesworehe’dgrownaninchover

theseason.Elliotstaredbackather.

“Mom,Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingonwithyou.ButIlikeit.”

MaybeTroymellowingonthewholesubjectofElliotandhispitchingarmhadmade

Remymellowaswell.

Well, she’d take that as a gift, along with everything else he’d been doing for her.

Elliot was complaining less, and he was going to be pitching in the playoffs. That was
hands-downthebestpart.

But later at the game, Remy was tense all over again. She thought she’d been

transformedintothechilled-outmom.Butthetruthwasshewasdownrightanxiouswhile
watchingagamewiththismuchatstake.TigerMomwasback.

In fact, Tiger Mom completely took over when the referee called a runner trying to

steal third safe when he was clearly out. Elliot had been perfecting his base throwing,

thanks to Coach Troy, and he’d whipped it over to the third baseman just in time, it
seemedtoher.Butnotactuallyintime,accordingtothereferee.

Acoupleoftheotherteamparentsnexttoherinthestandsbooed.Theysawit.Before

shecouldstopherself,shewasoutofthebleachersandstandingupagainstthechain-link
fence,shouting.

“Noway,ref!Thatkidwasout!Didyouevenseethat?Hewasdefinitelyout!”

Elliot looked chagrined at her, all the players and spectators were staring at her, but

shewasfiringonallcylindersandkeptgoing.

Therefereecalledtimeoutandwalkedovertofaceheracrossthefence,alongwith

Troy.

“Youcan’tdothathere.Thisisyouthleague.Youcan’ttalktotheref,youknowthat,

Mrs. Dawson.” He called her Mrs. Dawson like they had not made out in the dugout
twelvetimesonthisveryfield.

SheignoredTroy.“Comeon,ref,thatwasaridiculouscall.”

Troypersisted.“It’snotyourconcern.I’mdoingmyjob,lettherefdohisjob.Gosit

downoryoucanleave.”

“Youcan’tkickmeout,Troy.”

“No?Watchme.”

AndRemywasindeedremovedfromthegame.Infrontofeveryone.Byhersupposed

boyfriend.

Ashephysicallyescortedherawayfromthefieldtowardtheparkinglot,sheyanked

herarmawayfromhisgrip.“Ihadyoupeggedfromthebeginning.Youdon’tcareabout
winning, and now I know why. Because you’re scared of the pressure. You’re afraid
you’regoingtochoke.Thesamereasonyougaveupplayingball.Yes,Iheardthewhole
storyfromyoutheothernight.”

Sheregrettedallofittheseconditwasoutofhermouth.

Troysaidnothing.Justwalkedaway.

Devastated,Remywatchingtherestofthewinninggamefromhercar.

Thismightbeagoodtimeforacigarette,butshedidn’tsmoke.Butthat’snotwhatshe

neededatall.Theshamestartedtosinkin.Shehadletheremotionstakeoveragainand
embarrassedherselfandherson,andpossiblyTroy.Whathaveyoudone?

Sheneededsomethingtocalmhernerves,buttheonethingthatdidseemtocalmher

nerves at the moment was busy coaching her son, and oh yeah, kicking her out of the
stands.

And now her son was headed to the league’s World Series, so she couldn’t just hide

underarockfortherestofthesummeroutofembarrassment.

Dammit.Youneedtofixthis.

Troy

hesilencefromRemythatwholefollowingweekafterthegamewasdeafening.

Shedidn’tcall.Didn’tanswerhistexts.Didnotcometoschooltosneakakiss

duringhisfreeperiod.

Ontheotherhand,shehadnotbrokenitoffwithhim,either.

SoTroykeptonkeepingon.Everynight,hedrovetoherhouseaftertheywereasleep.

To fix something. To clean something. To do things a man does for his girl. Once, he
plantedvioletsinhersideyard.Anothernight,hepulledweeds.Yetanothernight,fresh
mulchfortheshrubs.

AndofcoursethebreakfastbasketsfromHawk’sjustkeptcoming.Troycouldn’tstop

takingcareofthem.Hejustcouldn’t.

Asheplantedtheflowersthatonenight,hereplayedhowhehadtossedherfromthe

game. He could have just let the referee handle it. Maybe he jumped the gun. But she
would have gotten herself booted either way. She was in the wrong. Definitely. Yep. He
justdidwhatneededtobedonebeforeitgotanymoreoutofhand.

Ifthathadmadeherfuriousathim,whichitobviouslyhad,therewasnothinghecould

doaboutthat.Shewouldgetoveritandtheywouldgetthroughthis.Thiswouldendupa
trivialmatterinthelongterm.

Hehadnotexpectedthesilenttreatment.Especiallyfromawomanwhoknewhowto

use her words to skewer a guy into oblivion. Yet, every night at practice that week, she
droppedElliotoffanddidn’tbothergettingoutofthecar.Itwasstartingtodrivehimnuts.
Whycouldn’ttheyjusttalkaboutit?Argue?Shout?Scream?Anythingwouldsuffice.

Thatcomingweekend,therewasabreakintheleaguescheduleuntiltheWorldSeries

started.SoTroycameupwithaplan.

Whenhewasdoneplanting,hecalleduphisfriendinChicago.

“HeyRizz,It’sMattis.I’mgood,howarethings?Yeah,Iwatchedallsevengames,hot

shot,andthatringismakingquitearacketonyourphone.Heylisten,I’mtakingmygirl
tothegameSundayandIneedafavor…IknowWrigleydoesn’tofficiallyallowthiskind

ofthinganymore,butIneedyoutopullsomestrings…”

“W

Remy

eneedtotalk.”

Thiswasit.Shetookalongdrinkfromherwaterbottle.

Shehadcomeclosetotextinghimbackoverthelastweek.Butshehadworktodoon

herself,andshedidn’twanttofallintothesamepattern.And,shefeltashamed.

Troylookedwornoutandreadytogohomeafteralong,steamyFridaynightpractice

inJuly.Heleanedagainstthedoorofhispickup,armscrossedinfrontofhim.

ElliothadgonehomewithBrandtforthenighttotryoutsomeskateboardmoves,so

Remyfinallyhadmusteredthecouragetosaywhatsheneededtosay.Shehadspentall
weekthinkingaboutit.Sheevenwenttoseeatherapistshecouldbarelyafford.Shehad
deliberately kept her distance, afraid that connecting with Troy before she was ready
wouldonlyleadtokissing,andkissingwouldonlyleadtohandsrippingclothesoffand
forgettingwhatitwastheyneededtotalkabout.

Heshookhishead.“I’vebeentryingtotalktoyou.Ican’tbelieveyouwouldhavethat

kindofanoutburstinfrontofthekidsandthenrefusetotalktomeaboutit.”

She wanted to point out it was a rotten call. But she stopped herself from shifting

blame,ashertherapistputit.Shetookastepcloserandsaid,“I’msorry.”

Troy did not melt immediately. “You need to understand what your sorry about. The

ref’s call is the call. And that’s it. You undermined the ref, you used your status as my
girlfriend to try to bend the rules. This is the same damn problem you and I have been
goingaroundandaroundaboutsincebeforeweevenmet.”

“Iunderstand,”shesaid,meetinghiseyes,whichwerestillangry.Itwaskillingherto

seethatlookonhisface.“ButIalsoneedyoutoknowthatitfelttomelikeyouenjoyed
kickingmeout.Youwereprettyquicktodoit,”shesaid.

Troywasnolongerleaningagainsthistruckbutstandingupstraight,readyforaface-

off.“Ihadto!Ican’thaveparentsactinglikelunatics.AndifyouthinkIenjoyedthat,you
don’tknowmeatall.”

Shewastetheringhertemperwithafrayedstringatthispoint.“Idoknowyou,you

don’tcareaboutwinningatall,andIdo.ButIjuststartedtalkingtosomeoneaboutmy
issues,andIhavelearnedthatIneedtolookpastthat.”

Troyturnedaway,openingthedriverdoor.“Idon’tevenknowhowtotalktoyouright

now. You think I don’t care about winning? It’s universally understood that everybody
fucking cares about winning. The point I’m trying to make is we need to let these kids
enjoy the game! I don’t know how else to say it, woman. I’m not always going to do
thingsyoulike,sometimesyouwillhateme.Butwhenyoulovesomeone,youtalkitout.
Youdon’tfreezetheotherpersonout.Andyoudon’tfuckingusemypastagainstme.That
wasreallybelowthebelt,maybeevenworsethanthrowingafitinfrontofthekids.”

Remyfinallyfellsilent.Sheknewhelovedher.Sheknewfromthelasttwoweeks,all

theunsolicitedhelparoundthehouse,thelittlegifts,thewayhelookedather.Sheknew.
Andshe’dtreatedhimlikegarbage.Andnow,hejustlookedhollow,tiredandangry.

ShelookeddownatherfeetandrecalledallthewaysElliothadrespondedafterlast

week’s game when he’d witnessed her antics. He looked at her differently, as if he was
waitingforhersilencetoturnintosomethingelse.Thefunmomhethoughthehadgained
from having Troy around was suddenly turning back into an intense and uptight pushy
momagain.

A great boulder of shame felt like it might hammer her whole body right into the

ground.“I’msorry,Troy.You’reright.I’msorryImadeyoudothat.”

Shelookedupasshefoughtbacktears.Hewashalfwayinthedriverseat,shakinghis

head. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I shouldn’t have
humiliatedyouinfrontofeveryonelikethat.”

Remysighed.“Sonowwhat?”

“Getinthetruck.”

“No.”

“Getyourassintomytrucknow,”Troyinsisted.“Ihavesomethingtoshowyou.”

“AndI’maskingyou,whatwomaninherrightmindwouldgetinthetruckofaman

whoisangrywithherandwon’ttellherwhereheistakingher?”

“Becausewe’regonnagoparkbehindtheOfficeQuestandbonetheshitoutofeach

othernow.”

Remythoughtaboutitforamoment.

Itwasaveryquickmoment.

“Let’sgo.”

Troy

emy furiously unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his Levis. Troy lowered the
seatsinthecab.

“Shit,man,whydoyouinsistontheseretrobuttonflies…”

“Becausetheymakeyoucrazy.”

Shetoldhimtoshutupasheinchedhimselfintothebackseatsohislonglegscould

spreadoutacrosstheloweredfrontseats.Shekneltonthefloorinfrontofhimandsether
waterbottlewithinreach.

“Doesmycrazymakeyouhard,baby?”

“Youknowit,darlin’.”

“Doesitmakeyoufeelgoodtotellmewhattodo?Tothrowmeoutofthegamewhen

I’mabadgirl?”

He laughed. “Bad girl talk. I like it. Yeah, every time I get angry at you I get so

fuckinghard,it’sembarrassing.AndthenIgetangrieranditjustsnowballs.”

“Youmeanblueballs?”

“Goodone.”

Thensheconfessed:“Itgetsmehotwhenyoubossmearound,Coach.Tellmewhat

youwant.”

“Takemeouttotheballgame,mama.”

Therewasstillenoughlightcominginthroughthetruckwindowstoseeherface.She

lookedhungryanddangerous.

Remy tugged at his belt loops. He lifted his hips off the seat so she could slide his

jeansandbriefsdownatthesametime.Notaneasyfeatinthehumidity.Hewatchedher
watchinghismanhoodspringfree.Shelickedherlipsasshesmoothedherhandsuphis
thighs.

Shetouchedthetipofhiscockwithhertongue,glideditdowntheshaftandusedher

handstogentlymassagehisballs.

“Alittlerougher,babe.Don’tbescared.”

Hereyesflashedupathiminthetwilight.

She squeezed and massaged with a bit more pressure, then devoured him with her

mouth.Shegrewbraverthemorehemoanedwithpleasure,addingmorepressurewithher
hands and her tongue each time he made a noise. She was exquisite and electrifying.
Watchingherworksohardtopleasehim,doingeverythinghetoldhertodo,knowingit
wasallforhim.Hertouchandherkissestoldhimeverythinghewantedtoknow.

Ashermouthworkedthembothintoasweatontheleatherseats,hegrewdangerously

closetoorgasm.Troygazedatherasshevigorouslyfeastedonhim,andhiswordscame
outragged.“Remy.I’mgettingclose.”

“Holdon,Coach,”shemurmured.Hiscockwasslickfromhermouthandshesmiled

upathimforamoment.God,hehopedshewasn’tthinkingoftakingabreak,becausehe
might have to finish himself off and he did not want to do that. He needed more of her
mouth,andhewasgoingtogetit.

“Whatareyoudoingtome,Remy?”

Anevilgrinspreadacrossherface.Thenshetookaswigfromherwaterbottle.Along

one. The ice-cold sensation when she slowly licked his cock just about blew his mind.
Therewerefuckingicecubesinhermouth.

“Oh,Remy,baby,yougottakeepgoing.”

“Do I?” She crunched and swallowed some of the ice thoughtfully. Then she licked

him cold again and closed her eyes, as if she was tasting chocolate for the first time.
“Mmmm.Coach,youtastesogood,didyouknowthat?”

“Remy,pleasestoptalking.Finish.”

Remy then took another swig from her water bottle as Troy moaned for her, then

finallyplungedhisshaftbackintohermouth.IfthiswereanOlympicevent,shewould
wingold.ShewouldwinallthegoldandeveryoneelseintheOlympicVillagewouldgo
homecryingbecausetherewouldbenopointintryinganymore.

Hemanagedtoformthewordstotellherhewascoming.

Sheslidhimoutofhermouthandfuriouslypulledherwhitetanktopoverherhead.

Therewasnotimetoremoveherbra.Withaswiftmovement,shewasontopofhim,his
shaftsinkingintohercleavage,justintime.

Troytriednottoclosehiseyesinecstasyashecamealloverher.Watchingherbite

herlipasshelethimrideitoutbetweenhertits,withtheslightestgrin,madeittentimes
as hot. Watching her intense brown eyes gaze up at him made him surge onto her more
thanhethoughtpossible.

“Oh,Remy,”hesaid,outofbreath,sweatpouringoffhisface.“Youarethequeen.”

Shewaitedtherewithhisshaftbetweenherbreastsuntilhehadcompletelyfinishedon

her.ThensheroseupsoTroycouldseehermassagehisseedalloverherchestlikeitwas

coconutoilorsomething.

“Remy,letmefinishyou.”

“Noway,babe.Thatwasmyapologytoyouforignoringyouforthepastweek.Just

letitbe.”

Troypulledherupontotheseatwithhimandnestledherinhisarms.

Remy

helongershestayedlikethis,lyinghereinhisarms,themoredangerousitwas.
His arms around her, feeling him breathe into her hair, warming her scalp and
sendingwarmthallthewaydowntohertoes,madeherthinkheavythoughts.

Youcannotgetattached.Ifyoudo,thenElliotwillgetattached.Whenitends,itwill

meanheartbreakforElliotaswell.

Troy interrupted her thoughts by speaking low, his cheek resting on the top of her

head.“YousaidElliotisatasleepovertonight.”

She grinned. “Yeah. And Ryan is picking him up from Brandt’s tomorrow and

bringinghimtoschoolonMonday.Why,doyouwanttocomebacktomyplaceandplay
cardsandwatchConanwithme?”

Helaughed.“Definitely,butnottonight.”

“Oh,”shesaid.“OK,well,whydidyouask?Youwanttotakemehomeandviolate

menexttotheairconditioner?”

Troy’shandwentfromstrokingherhairtofeelinginsideofherbra.“Mycockwould

sayeverydamnsecondthatI’mnotinsideyouorkissingyouorinbetweenyourthighsis
wastedtime.Butthere’ssomethingIwanttoshowyou.I’veactuallybeenplanningthis
weekendaway,ifyou’reupforit?”

“Tonight?Now?”

“Yep.Chicago.”

“Chicago?Rightnow?Whyonearth?”

“Humorme.I’llfollowyouhomeinthetruck,butyouhavetomakeupyourmindby

thetimewegettoyourhouse.Thenifyoudecidetocome,goinsideandgrababagand
I’llwait.Ifyoudecidenottocome,justtextmeandtellmetofuckoff,andI’llleave.”

ShedidnottellTroytofuckoff.Later,astheydroveinthedarknessdownInterstate

80acrosstheplainsofcentralIllinois,theytalked.

“I’vebeenwantingtotakeyouheresincethefirsttimeyouemailedme.”

“Why?”

“BecauseIthinkyouneedtoseeit.”

“Seewhat?”

He smiled. The darkness could not hide the flash of his teeth. She couldn’t see the

dimples,butknowingtheyweretheremadeherhappy.“Mychurch,”hesaid.

“Youdonotattendchurch.”

“Dependsonyourdefinition.”

Hepointedtohisballcapandkeptgrinning.

Troy

ythetimetheyreachedthecitylimits,Remysaidshewasstarving.

Troyfeltlikeaheel,bringingherallthiswayandnotstoppingforfood.He’d

beensofocusedongettingtothehotelforthenight,havingalittlemorefunbetweenthe
sheetsandgettingagoodnight’ssleepwithherinhisarmsthathe’dforgottenaboutfood.

Remywasgoodforhim.Sheremindedhimtoeat.

Itwasaboutnineo’clockwhentheycheckedintothehotel,andbasicallyeverything

anybodycouldwanttoeatwaswithinwalkingdistance.

They walked a block away and passed at least two bars with sidewalk seating,

beautifulwell-dressedpeopledrinking,laughing.

Troy had hoped to find someplace charming and quiet and romantic for them to eat,

butRemyspottedacasualMexicanjointandmadeabeeline,tugginghimbehindher.

“Idon’tmeantosoundlikearube,”shesaidoverthedinofthecrowds,“butthisis

awesome. Middleburg has its sidewalk rolled up at nine p.m. every Saturday night. You
don’t see a soul out on the street. This is amazing! I’m sitting outside at nine o’clock
eating a delicious taco and hearing live music from about two different places, and
everyonearoundmeisdressedabouttentimesbetterandsofarthisisthebesttripofmy
life.”

Troystaredathergorgeousfaceasshetoreintoherfoodwithglee.

“Haveyouneverbeenhere?”

“Ohsure,”shesaidthroughamouthfuloffood.“I’vebeentotheMuseumofScience

andIndustry,FieldMuseum,SheddAquarium.AllthestuffthatIowapeopledowiththeir
kidsonschoolfieldtrips.Butwenevergottodothis!Wanderaround,watchpeople,eat
tacos,haveamargarita,that’sfordamnsure.”

Troyreachedacrossthetableandtracedafingerinsidethenecklineofhershirt,then

dippeddowntothefirstbutton,surprisingherbytuggingitopen.“Well,I’mhopingthis
willbeastrictlygrown-upfuntripforyou,”hesaid.

She smiled and blushed. He loved that after all they had done together, she still

blushedwhenhetalkedtoherlikethat.

“Before we go back to the hotel, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he

added.

“Goahead,”shesaidthroughamouthfuloftaco.

“Youaremygirlfriend.Idon’twanttheretobeanydoubt.I’myourboyfriend.Weare

solid, and I want you to know I’m not going anywhere. Even while you’re eating that
messytacoandIknowI’mgoingtofindbitsoflettuceonyoulater,Iloveyou.Andwe
talkaboutthings.OK?”

He waited. Her eyes were big and wide open and unreadable, and she had stopped

chewing.Butatleastshewaslistening.Shefinallyswallowedandspoke.

“Elliot worships you. If you’re my boyfriend, that means there’s a gray area with

Elliot.”

“Howso?”

She set down her taco. ”First, you and I were having a fling. Now, we’re in a

committedrelationship.Itwouldbegreatifitwasjustyouandme.Whenitends,wecan
handleitlikegrownups.ButElliotwillhavegottenattachedandthat’snotfairtohim.”

SheheldherbreathandlookedacrossthetableatTroylikeshewasgatheringupsome

extra courage. “If any man is in my life, it’s gotta be 100 percent. I can’t have my kid
puttingtrustinyouonlyforustoendthisthingdowntheroad.”

“I never would have asked you on our first date if I had wanted just a fling. God,

Remy. I literally cannot stop thinking about you every single day. Now this thing has
gottentoobigtobeafling,don’tyouseethat?”

Remysmirked.“Well,don’tflatteryourself,it’snotthatbig.”Sheglanceddownathis

crotch.

“YouknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.”

Troy could see he had some more work to do, and it was getting late. Tomorrow he

wouldfixthisthinginstone.Tonighttheywouldhaveakickasstimeinaritzyhotel,but
tomorrowhewasgoingtoputallquestionstorestonceandforall.

Lessthanthirtyminuteslater,Troywasrippingherleggingsoffwithaforcethatsent

aripallalongthefabricinthethigh.

“Ohgod,I’msorry.”

Remy tossed the leggings right into the trash from the bed. “They’re garbage. Now

comedownhereandlet’smessthesesheetsuprealgood,Coach.”

Well,howcouldhesayno?

Underneaththetrashedleggingsshehadonsomebrightturquoisesilkthongkindof

thing.Hewasinstantlyhardagainandthankedherforwearingit.“Although,”hesaid,“I
don’tknowhowyoucanstandit.”

“They’re more comfortable than you might think, if you get good ones. And they

prevent panty lines. If you’re gonna commit to wearing leggings and yoga pants, I have
two rules: no panty lines, and do a shit-ton of squats so your ass looks its best…oh my
god!Troy!”

Troyfinallygothertostoptalkingbyslippingthatthongoutofthewayandforginga

path with his mouth into her core without any warning or buildup at all. She gasped in
simultaneousshockandpleasure.Heworkedaroundherandkissedherthighs.Hestopped
whenshesaidhisname.

“Whatareyoudoing?”

“I’llkeepgoingwhenyoufigureoutwhattocallme.”

Asmilecrawledacrossherflushedface.“Oh,areweplayingagame?”

“Yes,ma’am.”

“Ilikeitwhenyoucallme‘ma’am’inthathotSouthernaccent.”

“It’scalledmanners.”

“Thenwhydon’tyouuseyourmannersanddon’tleavemehanging,Troy.”

“Whatdidyoucallme?”

Shesighed.“Idon’tknow.Sir?”

“No, ma’am.” He slid his hands away from her body and waited. He watched her

squirminanticipationandneed.Itwasn’tnice.Butitwassomuchfunbeingontheedge
ofnot-nicewithher,especiallywhenshewasintoit.

“Coach?”

“Yes,ma’am.”Troyreturnedhisfacebetweenherthighsandgottothepleasingwork

ofmakingherhowl.Hestrokedherlabiawithhistongue.Shesighedloudly.Hefoundher
clitwithhislipsandshemoaned.“Coach.Youmakemewanttoscream.”

“Yes,ma’am,”hewhisperedbetweenkisses.

“OhTroy!”

Troysuddenlystoppedandpulledawayagain.

“I’msorry!Pleasedon’tstop.You’rekillingme!”

“What’smyname?”

Shewhimpered,“Coach.”

Troy smiled as his hands traveled up her tummy, over her navel, pushing her cotton

tankuppastherbreasts.Henuzzledherandnibbledonenippleandthentheotherthrough
thefabricofherbra.

Sheinstinctivelyraisedherarmsaboveherheadandarchedupashequicklyridherof

hertanktopandbra.Shesighedashewenttoworkpullingherthongallthewaydown
withhisteeth.

Once she was completely naked beneath him, he knelt over her and looked down at

heramazingbodyinthemussedpileofhotelsheets.Shelookedlikeagoddesswithher
darkhairsplayedoutlikeacrownaroundherhead.Thelookinhereyesmadehimfeel
something beyond just simple arousal. Whether she knew it or not, she was feeling real
feelings.Shemaynotadmitit,buttheintensityinhereyeswaspiercinghissoul.Hewasa
goner.Thiswasit.Thiswasthewomanforhim.Hedidn’twantanybodyelseinhisbed
everagain.Hereyes,herlips,herstrongchin,hersexybareshoulders,thatassofhers,her
hair, all of it aroused him beyond belief, but their soul connection was real, and he was
goingtospendhiswholelifedemonstratingittoher,ifthat’swhatittook.Hesincerely
hopeditwouldnottakethatlong.

“Coach,” she said again, huskily. He realized he had taken too long of a moment to

gazeatherandshewaswaitingonhim.

He nodded. “Ma’am.” And traced a path of feathery kisses across her collarbone,

downherchest,hislipslandingonadark,hardlittlenipple,whichbeggedhimtosuckle.
Hedidforamomentasherhandscaressedhisshoulders,hisback,pullinguponthefabric
ofhisshirt.

“Iwanttofeelyourskinagainstme,”shesaid.

“I’mgonnakeepmyclotheson,ma’am.Ilikeyoubeingtotallynakedundermeand

lettingmetakecareofyou.Wouldyoulikethat?”

“Yes,Coach.”

“Goodanswer.”

He reached under her and gripped her ass with both hands, and she spread her legs

wide for him. He plunged into her core and found her hard little seed again. She was
completelysoakedforhim.Shewasgivinghimanotherragingboner.

Hestrokedherwithhistongue,inandoutandaroundashercriesgrewinintensity.

“I’mcoming,Coach.”

“Slowthatass,ma’am.”

“Ican’t,I’mcomingnow.”

Buthewantedtomakehershatterthewayshe’ddonetohim.Sohepulledawayfrom

heragain.

“Coach,it’snotfair.I’mfollowingtherules.Thisistorture.”

Helovinglymassagedherinnerthighs.Shemoanedandtriedtohughimintoherwith

thestrengthofherlegs,herbackarchedinagonyandlongingtoconnecttheirbodies.He
squeezedherasscheeksinhishands.Hewaitedafewmoreagonizingsecondsandthen
finishedherwithhislipsandtongue.

She howled. She screamed, she convulsed and contracted and shattered around him.

Thesightofit,thesoundofit,hersweettasteandherdeep-downscentallconspiredto
makehimnearlycomewhilefullyclothed.

Hecriedhername.“Iloveyou,Remy.”

“Coach,”shesaidhoarsely.

“Saymyname.”

“Mmm.Troy,”shemurmured.

Hekissedherlipsandherforeheadandwhispered,“Youdon’thavetosayitback.”

Remy

herewasnoTroyinthehotelbedwhenshewokeinthemorning,buttherewasa
gorgeously plated room service tray with hot coffee, croissants, European-style
butter,cutexoticfruitsandpoachedeggs.

Butshewashungryforotherthingsatthemomentassheheardtheshowerrunning.

Shesmileddevilishlyasshehoppedinwithhim.

“Hey,goodmorning!”hegreetedher.Hewasbrightandchipperinthemorning.That

wastwothingstheyhadincommon.

Sheclosedthecurtainandturnedtohimandtookthesoapfromhim.Troyraisedhis

armsabovehishead.Hisabdominalmuscleswerealmosttoobeautifulforhertogazeat.
Shesoapedupherhandsandlatheredhischestandstomach.

Shefinallyreplied,“Thankyouforthisroom.It’sstunning.”

“You’remygirl.Iwantedtodothisforyou.”

“You’resweet.”

“Nothingsweetaboutit.Ican’tkeepmyeyesormyhandsoffyou.I’mjustflat-out

crazyforyou.I’minlovewithyou,Remy.”

She bit her lip. This was getting intense. She knew she should be careful with her

heart,butman,thatbody.Thosehands.Thatmouththatmadeherblushandthenheatup
andfinallyexplodelikeavolcanointhesheets.Sheneverwantedanyonetolookather
for so long, ever. Was this lust or was it crossing over into something else? Was this
something else real, or was it just Troy putting the thoughts into her head? Could she
believehim?Shehadsolittleexperiencetoknowwhetherthiswasreal.

“Remy,” he said, stroking her temple, his hands cupping her face, “I don’t know

what’sgoingoninyourhead,butdon’tworry.Youdon’thavetosayitback.Justletme
loveyou.I’mhereforyouandI’mallin.Don’tshutmeoutbecauseyou’renotsureabout
meyet.Youdon’thavetothink,justletmehandleit,andIpromise,youwillgetthere.
Nowturnaroundandputyourhandsuphighonthewall.”

Shesmirked.“AmIunderarrest?”

Helookedatherlikehewasdeadlyserious.

Sheobeyed.Shewasexpectinganotherraucoustussle,thekindthatthey’dengagedin

sporadically all night long in the bed. But he didn’t attempt anything other than gently
latheringandmassagingherbodywiththenewloofahshehadpacked.

“Nobody has ever spirited me away on a whim in the night before. It’s

overwhelming.”

“We could always skip the game today and go back,” he growled, sudsing her up

betweenherlegs.

Shecaughtherbreath.Man,nomatterhowmanytimesinonenighttheyravagedeach

other,hersexneverstoppedrespondingtoTroy’stouch.Whetheritwaspurelyphysicalor
becoming attachment, she didn’t know. She decided to live in the moment and let
whateverhappenedtoday,happen.

Troy

llthetimehe’dspentwatchingherwalkawayfullyclothed,hehadassumedher
toned ass was the sexiest part of her, but washing her down in the shower, he
was realizing his cock was aroused the most by the small of her back. The

inwardcurveofherwaist,thetoneofhermusclesjustaboveherasscheeks.Nobodyelse
lookedthisgoodnaked,asfarashewasconcerned.

AndhehadnodesirewhatsoevertoseeanybodyelsebutRemynakedintheshower

withhim,orevensimplystandingnexttohimeveragain.

She pleased him the most just hearing her breath catch when he worked the loofah

aroundinsideherthighgap,andupward,aroundherinnerthighs,andgentlyaroundher
center.Evenafteralltheyhaddonetoeachotherallnightlong,hewasentrancedbyher,
andhersexstillwantedhistouch.

Hehadthethoughtofgettingunderneathherintheshowerandtastinghersweetsex

alloveragain,bringinghertoclimaxhereintheshower,buthewantedtostretchthings
out.

Hewantedhertoneedhimandsaveherenergiesforlater,afterthemainevent.With

any luck, she would come around to loving him. He had exactly three hours to make it
happen.

Lessthananhourlater,thetwoofthemwerealone,inthemiddleofWrigleyField.

His old teammate and friend with the gaudy World Series ring had come through with
providingaprivatetourofthestadium.Troysmiledandmadeamentalnotetosendthe
guyafruitbasket.

Thelookonherfacewasexactlywhathehadhopedfor.Awe.Wonder.Delight.“This

reallyisalovelyplace,”shesaid.

“LikeIsaid,mychurch.Thisisthewholereasonrighthere,whyI’vespentmywhole

life in love with this game. And I finally made it here. I swore after everything that
happenedIwouldnevercomeback.ButI’mworkingthroughitandI’msohappytobe
backherewithyou.Ithinkthisissomekindofdestinythatbroughtustogether,don’tyou
think?

Hercheeksflushed.“Troy,you’reahopelessromantic,aren’tyou?”

“Prettymuch.Let’sgo.”

Remy

heneverwouldhavebelieveditifanyonehadtoldhershewouldonedayspenda
dateatWrigleyField,homeofthe2016WorldSerieschamps,tossingaballand
runningbaseswiththehottestmanwho’deverexisted,inheropinion.Shewould

havenotjustlaughed.Shewouldhavepaidforthatperson’stherapy.

Normally, this was not her thing. But Troy was happy, and it made her happy to see

himhappy.Hehittheballoutintoleftfieldandranthebases;bothtimesheappearedto
begettinggraduallymoreandmoreemotional.

Well,maybethatwasthepoint,Hewasworkingthroughsomething.Notathingthat

meninherlifehadbeenknowntodo.Theyweren’tsupposedtodealwiththeirfeelings.

Shewatchedthismagnificentmantosstheballbackandforthtoher,andsherealized

something.Hewasworkingonhimself,andhewantedhertobeapartofhisprocess.If
there were any doubts about his intentions, they dissipated. Nobody would ever include
herinthismuchhardemotionalworkiftheyonlyintendedtohaveafling.

Troythrewtheballtoheronemoretimeandshecaughtitwithoneofhisextrawell-

wornmitts.

“Smellit,”hesaid.

“Smellwhat,thebaseball?”

“Yes,”heencouraged.“Smellit.”

Shedid.

“Whatdoyousmell?”

“Leatheranddirt.Andyourhands.”

“Lookaroundyou.Whatdoyousee?”

“I see green grass, turf, I see blue sky, white fluffy clouds, green hedges bleachers,

blueflags,Iseepeopleoverthereonthatrooftop,drinkingbeeratnoonandwatchingus.”
Shewaved.“IthinkIsmellhotdogs.”

“Correction,yousmellrealViennabeefsausages.”

“OK.Whatareyougettingat?”

“I have loved baseball my whole life. I never loved anything the same way. I have

never stopped loving baseball, even though it hurt me, but it’s not over. I can still play,
have fun, enjoy games. Coach kids. Baseball will always be with me. When I love
something,Idon’teverwalkawaycompletely.DoyougetwhatI’msaying?”

His words were breaking through. He could be trusted. He had more than proved it,

overandoveragain,intheshorttimethey’dknowneachother.

Didshelovehimback?Wasthiswhatshewasfeeling?

Hewasreliable.HewantedtotakecareofherandElliot.Hewasprotective,almostto

a fault. He was smart. He could argue with her and not get too personal or get easily
offended.Hehadherbestinterestsatheart.Heputherbeforehimself.

“Batter up!” he called. Troy took the mound and stood there watching her for a

moment.Remyloosenedherwristsbyswirlingthebataroundoverhershoulder,thentook
acoupleofpracticeswings.ShewasconsciousofTroystaringather.“What?”shesaid.

He replied, “Hang on,” and trotted over to home plate. He tucked himself in behind

her and corrected her form. Now his gaze was up close and to the side of her face. She
couldfeelhisheartpoundingintoherbackbone.Troyplacedhishandonherhandsonthe
batanddirectedherswing.“Keepitlevel,likethis.Nottoohigh,nottoolow.Justeven.”
Theydidanumberofpracticeswingslikethis,andshewasexquisitelyawarethatallof
thiswasanexcusetocopafeel.Therewashislittlebuddy,hardandreadyandpressedup
againstherasscheeks.

“Troy,” she said, low enough so only he could hear. “Don’t you ever stop with the

hard-ons?”

He slipped a hand up under the side of her shirt and gripped her around the waist,

drawingherinclosertohispelvis.“IhopeIneverstop.I’mgonnahaveahard-onforyou
therestofmylife,andthat’safact.”

Thewordchoicestuckinherbrain.“Yourlife?”

“Of course. What do you think I’m doing here, Remy?” He breathed into her neck.

She could tell he was inhaling the scent of her shampoo, a thing he liked to do. The
questioninhermindwas,wouldhelikethewayshesmelled,looked,actedonherrough
days?Oneofmany,manyquestions.

Troy

efeltherbodystiffenunderhisembrace,herhandstightenedonthebat.

He inhaled the scent of her hair, her skin, her scalp. She was intoxicating.

Everythingaboutherarousedhim.

He kissed the back of her neck and felt her body relax about one-tenth of a degree.

“Just remember what I said. You don’t have to respond to anything I’m telling you. I’m
just telling you what I’m thinking. I want to put it all out there to let you know I don’t
have any barriers to this or to you. There’s a 50/50 chance I’m going to get hurt—no,
utterlycrushedtoamillionpieces—butthat’sthechanceItake.That’stheriskeverytime
inbaseball.”

“Huh?” She was a numbers person and not given to metaphor as he, the English

teacher,was.

“Every time you size up a pitcher, the pitcher is sizing you up. You may think you

knowwhathe’sgoingtothrowatyou,andyoumaybeready.Thenagain,hecouldthrow
youaknuckleball,acurveball,afastball.Youdon’treallyknow.Ifit’sawildpitchyou
can let it sail and walk the bases, waiting for something to fall into your strike zone, or
you could go down swinging. Or you could hit a home run. I’d rather take my chances
between striking out and going all the way home. I don’t like walking on base. It’s too
easy.Maybethat’swhyyoupickedme.”

Shehuffed.“Ipickedyou?Really?Ithinkitwasyouwhocameafterme.”

Heturnedheraroundandshedroppedthebat.“YouknewonsomelevelthatIliked

fighting with you. You liked it too. You don’t like things the easy way, either, or why
would you be fighting so hard for everything? You are just like me. You don’t half-ass
anything.Youdon’twanttowalkintoarelationshipwhereyou’recertaineverythingwill
beOK.Idon’teither.Youmightbesowrongforme,butyoucametoseemeatschool
and well, damn if I didn’t hate you and fall for you at the same time. You and I are
opposites,butwehaveonethingincommon.Wefightforwhat’soursandweenjoythe
fight.Wearearousedbythefight.Don’tdenyit.”

“You’retalkingcrazy.”Shesaidthewordsbutdidn’tbelievethemherself.Hecould

tell.Hewasgettingthroughtoher,butshewasn’treadytoadmitit.

“AmI?Tellmewhatyouwoulddoifamilquetoastmiddleschooldadyoumetatthe

bakesaleaskedyouforadate?”

She looked around hesitantly. ”I don’t attend bake sales. Pointless. I call my

congresspeopleandschoolboardmemberstolobbyformoremoney.”

“Exactly.You’reaTigerMom.Sayit.”

“I’maTigerMom?”

“Youdon’tgooutwithmild-mannereddudes.Whynot?”

“I’mbusy.”

“Nottoobusytofuckme.”

Herlipspartedandhereyesflashedinsemi-shockathim.Butshehadnowords.

He continued. ’It’s true and you know it. You make room for what you want. And

whatyouwantissomeonewithasmuchfireasyou.Becauseifyoudon’thavethat,ifyou
have a dude without any tenacity or chutzpah or balls or whatever you want to call it,
you’llburnhimtotheground.TheaverageMiddleburgdudecan’tbenexttoyoubecause
it’stoomuchheat.”

“Ithinkyoumeantheydon’tsitbymebecauseI’maragingbitch.”

“Sowhat!?”

“Excuseme?”

“Youareraging,butyou’renotabitch.Youmighthavemademethinksoatfirst,but

you’realioness.Evenifyoudecideyoudon’twanttobewithme,thenjustpromiseme
youwon’tletanyonemakeyoufeellikeanythinglessthanaqueen.”

She looked surprised. “Well, now it sounds like you’re giving yourself an out. You

saidbeforeyouwereallin.”

“I’mdoingeverythinginmypowertowinyouover.Intheendyouhavetochoose.I

can’tforceyoutoloveme.”

Shewasquietforatime,andthentheywalkedthebasestogether.

“Ithinkyouliketoexaggerateyourperceptionofme.I’mnotasamazingasyouthink

I am. You might not like me when things calm down and I’m just sitting around in my
sweatpants,carb-loadingandtrainingmedicaltranscriptionistsonlinewithmyhairupina
ponytailandnomakeup.OrondayswhenIdecideIcannolongergiveashitandIlose
thatfirethatyouseemtothinkIhave.”

He stopped and grabbed her hand to keep her from moving away from him. He

squaredhershouldersinfrontofhim.

“ImightandImightnot.There’sa50percentchanceIwon’tlikeyouinthatstate.But

here’s the thing. I’ll still love you. So the chances that this will work is 150 percent.
Right?Idon’tknow,I’mnotgoodwithnumbers,I’manEnglishmajor.”

She smiled a little. Then he could see it. A light had dawned. “I like these chances.

OK,Coach.Let’sdothis.”

Troypulledherincloseandclosedhisarmsaroundherbackastheykissedatsecond

base,thelatemorningsunbaskingthemwheretheystood,halfwayhome.

Troy

twasthebeginningoftheseventhinningstretchandTroywasgettingnervous.He
felt he had been fairly chill so far. The Cubbies were winning 10-2, the beer was
flowing, the crowd around them was cracking jokes right and left, and it was a

beautifuldayforaballgame,withhisgirlbyhisside.Shehadboughtherselfaprogram
andwaskeepingstatslikeitwasherjob.

Infact,whenthebigmomentarrived,hehadahardtimegettinghertopeelhereyes

awayfromtheprogram.“Remy,lookup!”Henudgedher.Everyoneintheseatsaround
themlaughed,andtheyallstartedyellingathertolookup.ShefinallylookedupatTroy,
slightlyannoyed.Thenshefinallyrealizedtheentirecrowdwasshoutingforhertolook
up.ShelookedaroundandthenfollowedTroy’spointingfinger,acrossthefield,andsaw
theirfacesonthegiantscreen.

Remy

Shesawherself,thenlaughedandwaved,stilloblivioustowhatwashappening.Thiswas
cool, being at a Cubs game and then getting filmed on the big screen. The crowd then
wentberserkandshenoticedTroywasgettingdownononeknee.Hewaspullingouta
little red box out of his jeans pocket. She pried her wide, shocked eyes away from the
screenandlookedatTroy.Thiswashappening.

It was a beautiful ring, but she barely noticed it, because all she could see through

tears was Troy looking up at her. She could hear nothing because the crowd was totally
losing its collective shit. Apparently, word had got out he was an ex-Cub, for however
shortastint.

Shecouldbarelyseehimmouththewords.

Andtherewasonlyonepossibleanswer.

EPILOGUE

hesummersunisshiningdownontheopenmeadownearCalebCreek.Elliotis
swingingabatoveramakeshifthomeplatemadefromadiscardedwoodfence.

Troyispitching.Ryaniscatching.

“Heyyyy,batter-batter-batter,swing,battah!”

“Youdon’thavetodothateverytime,Dad.”

“Iknow,”Ryansays,“butit’sfun.That’swhatIdo!”

“Yeah,youknowRyanissuchabaseballaficionado,helearnedeverythingheknows

fromFerrisBueller,”Remyshoutsfromsecond.

“Andwhat,madam,issowrongwiththat?

“Nothing,let’splay.”Troyisgettingimpatient.

“What,youdon’twanttotrashtalkeverybodyonyourownteamsomemore?”Elliot

askswithalaugh.

TroypitchestheballandElliotknocksitintoleftfield,whereJacksoncallsit.

Ryan stands up and watches it fly, sure that it’s going to go into the woods. But

Jacksongetsunderitandcatchesitwithease.“You’reouttathere!”Remyshouts.

Troy and Ryan turn to look at Remy. “You’re gonna call your son out? You enjoyed

thatalittletoomuch.”

“Keeptalking,sporto,you’renext.”

“Great catch, babe!” shouts Maggie, who is sitting on a giant quilt with two young

toddlergirlsandanotherwoman,whoisnewtothegroup.

“Thanks, babe!” calls Jackson from left field, “I think I missed my calling. Want to

dividethelandandputinaballfieldrighthere?”

“Sure,butwhowouldplay?”

“Well,we’rewellonourwaytomakingourownbaseballteam!”

Maggie smiles and says nothing. Everyone in the group swivels around and looks at

Maggie,playingwithtwo-year-oldEmma.

Remysquealsfromsecondbase.Maggielaughs.

TroyandRyanexchangelooks.“Ihavenoidea,”Troysays.

Ryanshrugs.“Womenfolksquealingaboutsomethingorother,onecannevertell.”

Jacksonlaughs.“IneverthoughtI’dbetheleastchauvinisticinthisheregroup,butI

gottatellyoufellas,youcanbeprettythickintheheadsometimes.”

Ryanturnsaroundand,seeingthelookonJackson’sface,finallyunderstands.“Well,

congratulations,man!”

Troy throws his head back and laughs. “Well, this calls for a celebration! Man, why

didn’tyousayanything?”

Jacksonshrugs.“IbelieveIjustdid.”

Misty,thenewgirl,turnstoMaggie,“Isittrue?Areyouexpectingyoursecond?”

Maggie’seyesshineasshenods.“We’redueinFebruary!”

“I’msohappyforyou!“saysMisty.

Maggiegrabsherinahugeventhoughshebarelyknowsher.“I’mjustsorelievedto

talkaboutit,Ihopeyoudon’tmindifIhugyou.”

“Notatall,”MistychucklesasRemyfliesoverfromsecondbasetonearlytackleher

pregnantfriendontheblanket.

“Ohmygod,I’msoexcited!I’mgoingtobeanauntieagain!”

Elliotcalledover,“Um,Mom,youdoknowyouwerenottechnicallyanybody’s‘aunt’

inthefirstplace.”

Ryanadmonisheshim,“Yourmomdoesn’thaveanysiblings.Shecanclaimanybody

shewantstoashernieceornephew.”

Remy smiled at her daughter. “Did you hear that, Caroline? You’re going to have a

newcousin!Anddon’tlistentoyourbrother,Elliot.YoucancallEmmaandhernewbaby
brotherorsisteryourcousin.BecauseMommymakestherules,justrememberthat.”

MistysmilesandhandsCarolineuptoRemy.“Yourdaughterlooksexactlylikeyou.

She’ssobeautiful,”Mistysays.

RemysmilesdownatRyan’sgirlfriend.“Thankyou,hon.Thanksforwatchingher.I

can’tplaynow.WeneedtotalkaboutthenurserywithMaggie.Maggie,areyougoingto
putthebabyintheextraroom,orwilltheyshare?”

MaggieandRemygoonandchatteraboutnurseries,andtheconversationeventually

morphsintobreastfeedingversusbottlefeeding,clothdiaperingversusdisposables.“You
know,Ihavebeendoingresearchoncompostablesandthatmightbeagoodoptionforus,
sincewehavetohandleourowntrashdisposalouthereinthesticks…”

Mistysmilesandturnsherattentionbacktothefield.Sherunsouttosecondandpicks

upRemy’smitt.“CanIplaywithyouguys?”

“Sure!”Troytossesafewbackandforthwithhertowarmherup.“Hey,you’vegota

goodthrow.“

“Hey,man,noflirtingwithmygirlfriend!”Ryancallsfromhomeplate.

Mistylaughs.“Asifhehadashot!”

Troybelly-laughs.“Hey,shecantalktrash,she’llfitrightininthisfamily.”

Elliottapstheplatewiththebat.“OK,oldpeople.Arewegonnatalk,orarewegonna

play?”

“Hey, if you’re so serious, maybe you can stop clowning around at our actual

practices.”

”Yeah,yeah.Justpitchalready.”

Troythrowstheball.Elliotcracksit,anditgoessoaringintoleftfieldagain,thistime

wayoverJackson’sheadandintothewoods.

“Whoo-hoo!”The15-year-oldElliotrunsthebasestriumphantly,wavingandblowing

kisseslikeagoldmedalOlympiantakinghisvictorylap.

JacksoncallsasElliotpasses,“Youhitintothewoods,youfindtheball—them’sthe

rules!”

Elliotrunsacrosshomeandkeepsonrunningtowardthegrouponthequilt.

Hestartsgallopingasheapproaches.“Hey,Emma,haveyouseenmyhorse?”

Emmalaughs,“Dasnotahorse!”

Elliotlooksdown.“You’reright!I’mbangingtwoendsofacoconuttogether!”

“OhLord,”saysRemy.“Pleasedonotcorruptthesebabygirls.”

Emmalaughssomemore.“Youdon’thavecoconuts!”

“Idotoo!They’reinvisible!Doyouwanttocomewithmetothewoodsandhelpme

findtheinvisiblecoconuttree?”

Emma’seyeswiden.“YesIdo.”

ElliotgrabsuphissisterCarolineinhisarmsandsaystoEmma,“Let’sgo,kid.Follow

me!”

Therestoftheadults,sensingthingshavedevolvedintochaos,leavethefieldandjoin

RemyandMistyontheblanket.Jacksonopensacoolerandfishesaroundforapreferred
beverage.Hetossesbeerstoallthenon-pregnantadults,andflavoredseltzertohiswife.

Andwiththat,theadultswatchElliotgallopofftotheotherendofthemeadowtoward

thewoods,hisbabysistergigglinginhisarms,andyoungEmmafollowingclosebehind,
untiltheydisappearintothetrees.

“ShouldIbeworried?”Remyasks.“Aretheygonnagetlostoutthere?”

“Probably,”Troysays,crackingopensummerale.“Rangerwillroundthemupbefore

theygetintoanyrealtrouble.”

Maggiesmiles.“Thatdogwillbetheinstigator,don’tkidyourself.”

Remysays,“I’mnotworried,it’sallgood.Aslongasthey’reallbackintimeforthe

wedding next week. I’ve got a tux and two little flower girl dresses that I cannot get
depositsbackon.”Shelooksdownatherhandandsmilesatherengagementring.

Troy catches her looking at her hand, picks it up and kisses it. “Well, if they do get

lost,thenyouknowweshouldn’thavehadatwo-yearengagement.”

“Iliketoplanthings!”Remyargues.

“Idon’tthinkanythingwillmakeRemystopworryingandplanning,”Ryansays.

Shesighsandsays,“Youknowwhat?Ithinkforthefirsttimeinforever,I’mOK…

witheverythingjustthewayitis.”

THEEND

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

AbbyKnoxlivesaduallife.FantasyAbbywouldlovetoliveonafarmwith
Ryan Gosling, where she could raise goats and chickens and go to baseball
gameseveryday.RealityAbbyhasnodesiretomuckoutstalls,andReality
Abby’sfamilyhasevenlesstoleranceforsportsthanshedoes.So,theever-
pragmaticRealityAbbykeepsFantasyAbbyhappybyputtingherintosweet
little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope
youenjoythisbrandofsweet,sexy,storytelling.ThisisAbby’sthirdbook.

FormoreinformationandtosignupforAbby’snewsletter:

www.authorabbyknox.com

authorabbyknox@gmail.com

ANEXCERPTFROMABBY’SNEXTBOOK…

WRITTENINTHESTARS

AsexyandsweetChristmastale—aboutacowboywho’sforcedintoanewjob,andhis

sweetnewdown-on-her-luckassistant—isBookthreeintheSmallTownBachelor

Romanceseries…tobereleasedDecember2017!

Theyallstared.God,thiswastorture.Whencowsstarelikethatitdoesn’tmeananything.
Whenofficepeople,stareitmeantsomething,buthellifDevinknewwhatitmeant.

“Great! Thanks for the meeting. I’m going to go home and take a shower, I literally

smelllikeshit.I’llcheckbackinafterlunch.”

Hestoodtoleavebuthisassistant,Dorotheainterruptedhim.

“Actually,youhaveameetingintenminutes.”

“Oh,Ido?Withwho?”

His assistant smiled graciously. “Well, honey, I’m retiring. You’re interviewing

applicantstoday.”

Shit.“Oh.Well,howmany?”

Dorothea passed him a blue folder across the conference table. “Five. Here are the

resumes.”

“Well,Dorothea.Isurelyhavenoideawhatyardsticktousetodecidewhotohirefor

thisjob.Maybeyoucouldhandleit?”

“Sir?Thispersonisgoingtobeyourpersonalassistant.Youcan’texpectmetodecide.

Thispersonhastomeshwithyou,notme.Withallduerespect.”

Finally,somebodywhospokeplainly.

“Gotit.Well,Ihonestlydon’tmeshwithmostpeoplesothisshouldbefun.”

Shesmiledwithevenmoregraciousness.“You’llbefine,dear.”

Well, he was now wishing Dorothea would stay, because she seemed like the most

genuinelynicepersonhere.

“WhatcanIpayyoutonotretire,”hesaid.

“Well, after everything that’s gone on in the last few weeks after the police arrested

your predecessor… police interviews, all of it. It’s just too much for me, so it’s time to
moveon.”

“Iunderstand,”saidDevin.

“One other thing,” Dorothea added, holding up one index finger. “Tonight is the

lightingofthetownChristmastreeonthesquare.Youneedtobetheretodothehonorary
ceremoniallighting.”

“Iain’tgonnahavetimeforthat,”hesaidwithalaugh-snort.

“It’soneofthosethingsyoursisteralwayshadmadesurewasonPete’sagenda.It’s

goodforWXGeneticstobeseendoingtheselittlecommunitythings.”

Devinshookhisheadinresignation.“Sure,fine.Butitain’tevenThanksgivingyet!It

won’ttakelong,willit?”

“Welldear,youhavelivedhereallyourlife,surelyyou’vebeentotheannuallighting

of the tree. There’s a cookie baking contest, a ornament making station. There’s a cider
stand to raise funds for one thing or another. I believe this year it’s to help replace the
plantersalongthecreeksidewalkingpathdowntown.It’sverypretty.Andthen,ofcourse,
theunveilingoftheTreeofStars.”

“What’sthat?”Hewasutterlyconfused.

“It’s the tree they put up by Mason’s General Store, where you choose a star that

representsalocalfamilyinneed.PeopleadoptthefamiliestoprovideChristmasgiftsto
thechildren.Tonightisthebiggestnightforit,becausethisiswhenmostofthestarsget
chosen.Waittoolong,andyougetstuckwithafamilythathasfiveormorekidswhoneed
coats.”

Someoftheworkerschuckledandexchangedglances.

This look was something he understood. “Our mama never picked up any of those

stars,becauseshewasusuallytheonewithfiveorsixfosterkidsinneedofnewcoatsand
notenoughmoneyfromthestatetocoverit.Butshemanaged,withorwithoutthehelpof
peoplewhodidn’twanttogiveit.”

A more awkward silence he could not have fashioned if he’d suddenly dropped his

drawersanddidastripteaseontheconferencetable.

“Fine,”hesaid.“I’llgobutIain’tstayingfornoornamentmakingorwhatever.”

DevinendedthemeetingandDorotheashowedhimintohisoffice.

And that his where he sat and had been thinking about kicking his boss — his big

sister—Wynnrightinthecornhole.

Hewasabsolutelythemostwrongpersonhecouldthinkoftositinanoffice.

Ranchhandinterviewingwasprettyeasy.Therewasno“whatareyourstrengthsand

weaknesses?” It was mostly, “Can you pick up a shovel? Are you afraid of a charging

bull?Canyoudodgeakick?Areyouabletosignthisreleaseform?Ifyouansweredyes
toallthesequestions,you’rehired.”

Ten minutes into his colossal boredom, the first assistant applicant walked into his

office.AndthisparticularapplicantchangedDevin’sentireopinionaboutworkinginan
officeby180degrees.

“Hi, I’m Claire Davids.” The most intense green pair of female eyes was staring

expectantly at him. Hair the color of the night sky intoxicated him. Speaking of 180
degrees,thatwouldmatchhistemperatureashetookinthesightofthisapplicant’sbody,
her curves hugged in a tailored green dress suit more lovely than the hills he gazed at
everymorningfromthebackofhishorse.

Amomentlater—hedidn’tknowhowlong—shecockedherheadandaskedifhe

was all right. Devin quickly shook the cobwebs out of his head and realized he’d been
staringdumblywhileshehadextendedherhand.“Yes.Sorry,youaremynewassistant?”

Shesmiled,evenmorewarmlyandgenuinelyathimthanDorotheahad.“Well,Ihope

so.Butwehaven’tdonetheinterviewyet.”

Shit, he did not want to do any other interviews. “You’re hired. Have a seat.” He

gestured to the chair across from his desk. Dorothea swiveled around and peaked inside
the office door, and shook her head and mouthed the word, “No.” She held up her hand
withfivefingers.“Five,”shemouthed.

Hegothermeaning.Hehadtogiveallfiveapplicantsafairshot.Hiringthefirsthottie

whowaltzedinprobablywouldn’tsitwellwithDorothea.OrWynn.OrCora.Oranyof
theseotherpaleoffice-typepeople.Toobadbecausethiswomanwassofreakin’hired,he
wished he had a time machine to go back and hire her before Wynn had decided on
Devin’sjobtransfer.

Well,he’djusthavetodohisbesttomakeitlookfair.

Clairesatdownacrossfromhimandplacedherresumeonhisdesk.Shesmiledshyly

and crossed her legs, and Devin spotted black tights and tall black boots, which would
lookincrediblysexyonthebackofhishorse.

SheworeasparklyredbroochintheshapeofaChristmaspresent.

“Ilikeyourpin,”hesaid.God,whatanidiothewas.Shecouldseerightthroughhis

attemptstobuytimeuntilhethoughtofanintelligentinterviewquestion.Shehadtoknow
hedidn’tbelonghere.

“Thank you,” she said. She smiled and looked down and touched it. “My good luck

charm.Itwasmymom’s.”

“Shegivethattoyouforgoodluck?”

“Iinheritedit.Shedied.”

Truly,hewassteppinginalloftheshitthismorning,witheveryfemale.

“Ohmygod.Iamsosorry.”

Sheshookherhead.“Thankyouforsayingso.I’mfine.Tellmeaboutthejob.”

Butshewassoobviouslynotfine.Thatmuch,Devincouldtell.Hewasthelastperson

tobeconsideredanexpertonwomenbutshewasmostdefinitelytheoppositeoffine.

“MymomdiedwhenIwas8,”hesaid.“Ineverknewmydad.Igrewupafosterkid

on a farm not far from here. I found out when I was a teenager that my dad died in
prison.”

Shebitherlip.Shewasdefinitelyholdingmoreback.“Mydadandmombothdied.

Together. A drunk driver hit them. They were on their way home from their 25th
anniversarytriptothecoast.Atleastmymomgottoseetheoceanbeforeshedied.That’s
allsheeverwantedbesidesuskids.”

Devin’s heart went out to her. Well, here was somebody, like him, who talked about

stuffevenifitmadeotherpeoplefeeluncomfortable.

Butshedidnotmakehimuncomfortableintheleast.

Hefeltnothingbutasweetaffectionforthisopenbookofafemaleintheprettygreen

suit.Shewassweetandhonest.Anddropdeadbeautiful.

Hadhenotjustsaidinthemeetingearlierthismorningthathedidn’tmeshwellwith

mostpeople?Wellallofasudden,hefeltthatiftherewassuchathingasmeshmadeout
ofhumans,sheandhewouldbenicelymeshed.Helethisslightlydumberpartofhisbrain
wanderintothethoughtofhowgrossthatcouldbe,iftakenliterally,anddecidednotto
speakitoutloud.

Hereplied,“Iamsosorryforyourloss.”

“Thankyou.Andyourstoo.”

“Thanks.”

Andthen,theyjustsatthere,sharingalittlequietmomenttogetherthattwostrangers

sharewhentheyrealizetheycompletelyunderstandeachother.

Ofcourse,thatmomentwentonfortoolong,andeventuallyDevinhadtogoandruin

it by being a caveman. She must have caught his gaze wandering down to her chest,
becauseshebitherlipagainandlookeddownintoherlap.Devinthoughtforamoment
shewasstartingtoblush.Sheselfconsciouslybrushedherharasideandhecaughtsideof
somesparklyredstudsinherears.Hecaughtawhiffofherhairwhenshedidthat.She
smelledreally,reallygood.

Thenrealitycamecrashingbackdown.“Sorry,Ismelllikebullshit,”hesaid.

Shelaughed.“What?”

“ImeanIcameherestraightfromthebarns.Ididn’thavetimetowashup.SoIsmell

like actual bullshit. Not figuratively. But hey, I might also smell like figurative bullshit,
whatdoIknow?”

She laughed again, a sound that gave him an intense desire to to keep making her

laugh.Insteadhechosetoattemptaprofessionalquestion.“So,tellmewhyyouwantto
comeworkforarednecklikeme.”

Butinsteadoflaughing,sheseemedtotenseup.Uh-oh,hethought.Wereherpeople

rednecks?

“After everything that happened, I quit college to come home to take care of my

siblings…andnowIhavetogetajob.Imsureyouknowhowharditistoraisechildren.”

Shehadassumedhehadafamilybecausehewasafewyearsolderthanshewas.

“Ohno.Idon’thaveanykids.I’msingle.Nevermarried.Womenhateme.”

He had done it again somehow accidentally broken the tension and made her laugh

again. “I’m sure that’s not true, you’re adorable.” Then she blushed deeply and covered
hermouth.“OhgodIshouldnothavesaidthat.Thatwastotallyunprofessional.”

He smiled and leaned across the desk and lowered his voice conspiritorially. “I like

unprofessional. And I’ll tell you another thing: I can’t stand this office job. My sister
transferredmeheretokeeptheinvestorscalmandnotbailoutonus.Butyouknowwhat?
SittingheretalkingtoyouisthemostcomfortableI’vefeltsinceIstartedthisnewjob.”

“Ohreally?”sheasked.“Howlonghaveyoubeenworkinginthisoffice?”

Hecheckedhiswrist,whichdidnothaveawatchonit.“About25minutes,”hesaid.

“Whencanyoustart?”

Just then Dorothea knocked on his door and stepped in. “We have another candidate

whohasjustarrived.”

Devin waved her off and kept his eyes on Claire. “Tell her we’ve already filled the

position.”

Dorotheaclearedherthroatpointedly.“It’saman,sir.”

“OK,thentellhimtogohome.”

“Sir.”

Devingrunted.HegesturedtowardDorotheaandsaidtoClaire,“she’smyhandler,I

gottadowhatshesaysorWynnwillhavemyhide.Wynn,that’smysister.Sheownsallof
this.Starteditherself.Shegavemeajobabouttenyearsagowhennobodywouldhireme
onaccountofIhadjustgottenoutofrehab.”

Claire’seyeswidened.Hecouldn’ttellifitwasshockorjudgment.Shewascertainly

processingsomethingabouthim.

Hestoodandshookherhandagainashshepreparedtoleave.“I’llbecallingyou.”

She smiled, sincere but with less confidence in herself than he wished for her. “I’ll

understandifyoudon’t.AsyoucantellbymybyresumeI’mnotexperiencedinmuchof
anything except writing term papers. But if you hire me, I will work hard to do …
whateveryouneed.”

Shehurriedtoleave,alittletooquickly.Buthehadmanagedtoshakeherhandagain.

Itwaswarmandsoftandfitnicelyinbothofhis.Whensheleft,heinstinctivelysniffed
hishandandsmelledherlotion.Likehewasadamndogorsomething.Sheleftthescent
offruityandspicythatremindedhimofsummeroutontherange.

AfterClaireleft,Dorotheapokedherheadin.“Onedown,fourtogo!”shesang.

Shit.Itwasgoingtobealongday.

ALSOBYABBYKNOX

TakeMeHome

SmallTownBachelorRomance,bookone

SomeBasicWitch

ANEXCERPTFROMTAKEMEHOME

BOOKONEOFTHESMALLTOWNBACHELORROMANCESERIES…RELEASEDOCTOBER

2017

A bottle of Budweiser was opened and waiting for Jackson Clay before he hit his usual
barstool.Carriewasbehindthebarpouringdraftsforagaggleofcommunitycollegeguys
who were gathered at the other end of the bar. Carrie was probably the best-looking
womaninMiddleburgatthemoment.Herkinkyredhairandsmallframemadehercute
asabutton,butshewaswellspokenfor.Herhusbandandco-ownerofthebar,Scotty,was
servingatourinAfghanistanatthemoment.

“Howyoudoingtonight,hon?”sheasked.

Henoddedandplacedhishatonthebarnexttohisbeer.“Verywell,andhowareyou

andthekidsdoing?How’sScotty?”

Carrie smiled and launched into a tale of weekly FaceTime chats with her long-

distancehusband,theboysbeingtroopersatschoolbykeepingtheirgradesupandhelping
with chores at home, while her sister watched them so she could manage the bar. She
seemedrelievedtotalkaboutit.Mostlikelyshespenthernightslisteningtothewoesof
the local farmers, complaining about banks, complaining about massive hog feed lot
factory farms encroaching on all sides, or watching community college students lurking
aroundforsomebodytocatchtheireyeanddistractthemfromtheirso-calledboringlives.

ThewayJacksawthings,lifewasonlyboringifyoumakeitboring.Lifecouldbejust

asfullinruralIowaasinNewYorkCity.Andhesupposedapersoncouldbeasbored,
lonely and unfulfilled in New York City as here. It’s all a state of mind, the way he
figured.Apersonaccusingaplaceofbeingboringhadonlyoneplacetolooktosolvethat
problem:insidehimself.

Jackhadneverdesiredtogotothebigcity.He’dlivedinIowaallhislife,andthough

he might like to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower one day to kiss his wife, he’d be
thrilled to have his little farm to come home to, to his house, his bed, his truck, his
bathrobe,hissheets,hiswideopenpastures,hisanimals,hisdogandhiswoods.Because
itwashis,therewasalwayssomethingtodo.Akidwantstocomplainaboutworkingtwo
jobs and putting himself through community college? Then they should have chosen a
differentpath.Heneverunderstoodcomplainersandheneverwould.

Besides, if anybody earned the right to complain, it was Carrie. She ran a business,

helmedthePTAandrantwoyoungboysraggedbetweenschoolandwrestlingpractices,

allwiththespecterofaforeignwarandanabsenthusbandloomingoverherhead.Butdid
shecomplain?No.Notever.Scottyhadhimselfagoodwoman.

“Anyway,enoughaboutme.Whatyouuptotonight,youngman?”

Itwassweetofhertosay,buthewasolderthanherbyabouttenyears,mostlikely.

ScottyandCarriehadmarriedrightoutofhighschoolandhadbabiesalmostimmediately,
asfarashecouldtellintheshorttimehe’dbeeninMiddleburg.

“Oh, just shooting up the damn coyotes. Birthing baby goats. Fixing fences, digging

wells,bush-hogging,baling,younameit,Idoit.”

“Sounds like you got it all working like a well-oiled machine.” She grinned, wiping

thebardownwithhermicrofibertowel.Itwasoneofthosehomepartythings,forwhich
shewasalsoadistributorandhadsoldhimalinenclosetfulloffancybathsheetswhen
he’dletthecatoutofthebagabouthisluxurymasterbathproject.

“Yes,ma’am,it’sgoingprettywell…Igotacontractwithasmallorganicoperation

outofSiouxFallstobuymygoat’smilk,sothat’sastart.”

“Jack,that’sawesome.Youknow,you’regonnaneedsomeextrahandsaroundthere

prettysoon.”

Heshrugged,thoughheknewshewasright.

“Don’tgohiringoneoftheselocaldumbasses,please,”shesaid,noddingatthegroup

ofyoungbeer-swillersfromthecollege.

“Shit,Carrie,thoseboysmaketwiceasmuchmoneyatacommercialfarmthanwhatI

couldaffordtopaythem.”

“Well, I mean a pair of feminine hands. On a person who already knows how to do

whatneedstobedonearoundyourplace.Maybesomebodyfromhere,lookingforwork.
Andmaybeneedsafriendatthesametime.”

Jack was utterly confused at Carrie’s face, which seemed to be leading him in a

specificdirectionwithawrysmileandawink.

“ThatisveryspecificandhighlyunlikelytofindinMiddleburg.Iwasthinkingabout

takinganadoutintheDesMoinesRegister.”

She playfully whipped at him with the towel. “I’m talking about that one, right over

here.AnybodygettingcrowdedbyChetEasleydefinitelyisgonnaneedafriendtonight.”
Shenoddedtothefarcorneroftheroom.

AtthenameofChetEasley,Jackswiveledaroundinhischairandstoodup.Therehe

was.Theslimysonofabitchwasslidingintoaboothnexttoawoman.Whoeveritwas,
he couldn’t see, but it was obvious they were not together, because Chet was using his
singular come-on posture: leaning way in and blocking the woman from sight. Every
female within four counties knew to stay away from Chet. He may have money, but it
didn’tmakehimaniceguy.

Helefthisbeeratthebarandapproached.Thewordscameoutbeforehecouldstop

himself.“Ma’am,isthisgentlemanbotheringyou?”

Chethadthatusualsmart-ass,shit-headgrin.ButJackhardlynoticedbecauseassoon

ashesawthefemalewhoChetwasbothering,everythingelseintheroombecameechoes
andblurs.

First,itwasherhair.Thick,strawberrycurlspoureddownpasthershoulders,ending

in pinkish tips. Her face was angelic, but also like a perfect sculpture. Her skin glowed
eventhoughsheworenomakeup.Herpiercingeyesweredeepbrownandherlasheslong.
Her cheekbones and jawline stood out as if she could use a couple of home-cooked
chickendinners,buthercheeksflushedasshestaredbackatJack.Heroutfitwasnothing
to write home about: a Hawkeye zipped hoodie and sweatpants. Probably a college
student.Probablyhadaboyfriendbackatschool,Jacktoldhishardeningmanhood.Buthe
couldn’t keep himself from noticing the zipper of her hoodie was open just enough to
revealaslightbitofcleavage.Notevencleavage.Ashadowofcleavage.Theletters“I-O-
W-A”werestretchedacrossherchest,whichwasblessed.Therewasdefinitelysomething
magnificent to behold under those frumpy clothes, and that woman was making those
frumpyclotheslookdownrightsexy.

Boyfriendorno,Jackwasintrouble.

He couldn’t even hear whatever smart-ass remark she was making, but it seemed to

himshewasmockingoldChet.Chetgotameanlookonhisfaceandstoodup.

“Idon’tbelieveyouwereinvitedover,oldman.”

Jackgothisbearingsagainandreplied,lookingstraightpastChet,“IdobelieveIwas

askingtheyoungladyaquestion.”

Shesmiledathim.ItwasaflashofwhiteteethandlushpinklipsthatmadeJackthink

ofdoingthings.Thingshehadn’tthoughtofdoinginawhile.Thingsthatmadehimfeel
likehewastheoneharassingthepoorwoman.

“Why,yes,heisbotheringme.Thanksforasking.”

Her voice…that was it. Was it possible for a voice to sound the way that ice cream

tastes? Oh god, that was a dip-shit pansy way of thinking about it. But when he had a
ragingboneronlygettingmoreragey,hehadweirdpoeticshittakeoverhisbrain.

He didn’t care if he had to rip Chet’s dumb-ass Garth Brooks hat off his stupid, fat

head. Tonight was going to end one way and one way alone. This woman was leaving
withJack.Hedidn’tknowhow,butthatwastheendofit.

Sure, he wanted to get Chet away from her. He would want to pull Chet off of any

woman, man, or creature no matter if Jack wanted that woman for himself or not. On
principal, Chet was a nuisance. But this whole situation had escalated and now it was
goingtoendinafight.Testosteronewasflyingandhewasthebiggercaveman.

“Didyouhearthat,son?Shesaidyououghttoleaveherbe.”

“AndIsaid,nobodyaskedyou.We’rejustacoupleofoldhighschoolfriendscatching

upisall.Butyouwouldn’tknowthat,sinceyou’reanewbiearoundhere.”

“That’sthedifferencebetweenyouandme,ChetEasley.Iknowwhentofold’emand

walkaway.Ipickuponsocialcues.SoIwillbestraightwithyou.It’stimeforyoutogo.

Shesaidit.Carriesaysit.AndnowI’msayingit.Whatmoredoyouwant,son?”Bringing
Carrieintothiswasabitofafib,buthell,shecouldn’tstandthesonofabitcheither.

“Justbecauseyou’re65yearsolddon’tmeanyougettocallmeson.”

Well,thatwasuncalledfor.Thisnightwashurtlingtowardpain,quickly,forChet.

“Well,now,youknowI’m42.ButIdon’tblameyoufornotbeingthebestatmath,

what with dropping out of high school a few years back…” Chet’s neck and ears were
turningpink.Jackpushedon.“Andohyeah,thatothernumberproblemyouhadalittlebit
ago, something about you and a 16-year-old girl from Des Moines you met online? I’m
sorry,man,Iknowyouhaveyourtroubles.”

Chet’searsandneckwerebeetrednowandhischeekswereflushed.“Youbettershut

yourmouthhole,yousmellyoldgoat-fucker.”Histeethweregritted.

“Well, it’s a good thing daddy had that big hog factory to hand over to you, young

man. Good for you! It’d be a real hassle having to get a job and move to the city, what
withhavingtotellallyourneighborsthatyou’reasexoffender.Seethat?Iknowquitea
lotforbeinganewbiearoundhere.”

Chet’seyesbulgedandhishandflew.

Jackwasfast,andhecaughtthedrunkenfistinmid-airandcounteredwithajabright

to the face. Chet cried out and stumbled backward, knocking over the young woman’s
beer.

“You broke my doze!” He dabbed at his face with the sleeve of his pristine denim

jacket.

“Probably,”JacksaidtoChet.Then,turningtotheyounglady,henoddedandoffered

hishandtohelpherslideoutofthebooth.“Ma’am?”

Shestoodandhehelpedherwipedownhersweatpantswithsomenapkins.“Awfully

sorryaboutyourbeer.”

“Not a problem. These are just the only clothes I have besides my waitress uniform.

I’dbettergethomeandwashup.”

Chethadstumbledoutthedoor.Jackturnedandgrabbedhishat,leftaverylargetip

and covered his bill and the young lady’s. As he laid out a stack of bills on the bar, he
couldstillfeeltheheatfromtheyounglady’shandinhisfromwhenhe’dhelpedherslide
outofthebooth.Carriestillhadthatsamewrysmirk,andhenowunderstoodwhy.

Heturnedandofferedhisarmtothewomanandinsistedshelethimwalkhertoher

car.Hefelteverypairofeyesintheplaceonhisbackashewalkedherout.Well,atleast
hewouldgivetheboredcollegestudentssomethingtotalkaboutfortherestofthenight.
And the old farmers would have something to gossip about over breakfast at the Gas &
Siptomorrow.Outintheparkinglot,sheturnedtohim,“I’mMaggie,bytheway.”

Maggie.

Heplayedthesoundofhernameinhishead.Helikedit.

“Nicetomakeyouracquaintance,Maggie.I’mJacksonClay,yourbodyguardforthe

evening.”Hewinked.“Whichoneisyourcar?”

He liked the sound of her name in his mouth. He’d like to do more things with his

mouththatinvolvedMaggie.Tonightandeverynight.Getcontrolofyourself,man.She’s
probably20yearsyoungerthanyou.

“Idon’tactuallyhaveacar.Iwalkedherefromhome.”

“AndnowIwillbeyourchauffeur.Whereishome?”

Sheprotested,“Ohno,I’vecausedyouenoughtrouble…”

“Ma’am,you’renotgoingtoletmegetinafightforyouandthencompletelydropthe

ballandletyouwalkhomealoneinthedark,areyou?”

Inthelamplight,herpinkscheeksgrewpinker.“Iguessnot.”Shesmiledshyly.Ifhe

didn’tknowanybetter,hewoulddetectshehadaflirtatiouslookinhereye.

“WherecanItakeyou?Whereishome?”

“MorningGloryFarm?Doyouknowtheplace?”

Yeah, he knew it all right. That was his place. Or at least, that was the name of his

place right before he’d bought the farm from Jane Blaise and changed it to Clay
Enterprises,LLC.

Jackstoodspeechlessforthefirsttimetonight.Hestareddownatthissmall,intensely

beautiful woman with the ice-cream voice and a body… Well, he was a 100 percent
straightmanandlet’sfaceit…abodyhecouldtossintothebackofhistruckandravish
tendifferentwaysuntiltheymadethatpristinetruckbedlinerexceptionallymessy.

Heswallowed.Heconsideredwhethertohavetheconversationnoworjustletitplay

out.

“Yeah.Iknowtheplace.Hopin.”

Document Outline

Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
Game Face
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
About the Author
an excerpt from Abby’s next book…
Also by Abby Knox
An excerpt from Take Me Home

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