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“What can I say? Your ladies love us.”
He’s not amused. “In your pants, Levi.”
“Okay. Okay. So who is this totally off-limits star pitcher of yours?” I ask. Slouching down further into the comfortable seat, I contemplate a nap.
He opens his mouth to answer when there’s a light tap on the door. “Here she is now. Right on time.”
I turn in my seat just as my dad says, “Saffron Briggs, meet Levi, your new tutor.”
Chapter 3
Saffie
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Oh shit. Did I just say that out loud? Shit. Shit. Shit. The look on Coach's face tells me I did indeed. He sits back in his chair somewhat deflated and pinches the bridge of his nose. “So, you’ve met?” he asks with a sigh.
My eyes bounce back to Levi and his stupid cocky grin and roaming eyes, then back to Coach. “Sorry, Coach,” I mumble, stepping fully into the office, taking the empty seat next to Levi that Coach gestures toward. He looks even more unhappy about this than I am.
“Hey there, Saffie. Long time no see,” Levi says and then winks at me. He’s really got a fucking winking problem.
“Not long enough,” I sneer, then smile fakely.
Coach interrupts our stare down. “When did the two of you meet? And please tell me that’s not where those came from,” he says, pointing at the gross hickeys on Levi’s neck.
“Absolutely not!” I shake my head emphatically. No way was I taking the blame for that mess. “We met at a party last night. This”—I waggle my fingers in disgust at his neck—“had zero to do with me, Coach. I can promise you that.” The older man looks relieved. Levi snorts out a laugh.
“Just because you like girls.” His lip pulls up in a smirk.
I huff. “No. Because you’re not my type, and even if you were, I have a boyfriend and more respect for myself than to get mixed up with a player like you.”
“You know what they say, right? Hate the game, not the player.” He winks again. I’m pretty sure he has something in his stupid even-if-they-are-a-pretty-blue-color eyes.
“Um, I believe the only people saying that are actual players. But whatever.” I don’t know why I’m even engaging. He’s infuriating.
“You two done now?” Coach asks.
Levi smiles at me and says, “Not even close, Dad.” Never breaking eye contact, I answer at the same time, “Yes.” But then it sinks in. He called him dad. Shit. Why didn’t I put two and two together? I knew that the twins were his kids. I must have blocked out the fact that he was related to them. Shoot me now.
“Saffron, clearly my son has made an impression on you, but I promise he will be on his best behavior while he’s your tutor,” Coach tells me, his tone stern.
“Sir, with all due respect. Isn’t there anyone else?” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice.
“You scared?” Levi taunts.
“Of you? Hardly. I just don’t like spending my time with people I don’t like.”
“Because you like girls.”
“For the love of…I don’t like girls. Well, I do. I have. Oh my god, just shut up,” I hiss, face flaming with absolute embarrassment. I not only just admitted to him but also to my coach that I’ve experimented with girls. Fuck this day. I mean, he coaches girls softball, so I’m sure experimenting is not new to him… but still.
Coach clears his throat. “That’s enough, Levi.” Not that his asshole son cares. No. He’s just sitting there grinning at me and my flushed face. He’s getting off on this, I know it.
“Maybe she should be the one tutoring me. She seems to be an expert on anatomy.”
I grit my teeth. I’m going to kill him. Beat him over the head with my favorite bat.
“Saffron,” Coach says gently. “Forgive me. His mother and I really did raise him to be a gentleman.” I slow blink the man, which causes him to smother a smile. I slow blink him once more. I’m pretty sure they failed. He clears his throat, swallowing what I’m certain is a laugh. “Levi will be able to get you all caught up and has a schedule and work ethic as grueling as yours. You’ll work well together. I’m sure of it. And if he keeps giving you shit, let me know, and I’ll tell his mom.” His smile comes easily.
Groaning, I slump back in my seat. This is happening. There’s no way around it. Suck it up, Briggs. You can handle one cocky jock who thinks you like girls because he can’t possibly fathom the alternative. That you’re just not interested in him and his stupid dimples. And now I’m giving myself a mental pep talk after five minutes in his presence. This is going to be a nightmare.
