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I laughed and took a step in her direction. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come on, Duchess. Let me make it up to you.”
She stopped, half turning back with one of her brows arched. “What do you have in mind?”
I snuck a glance at Henry throwing rings at rubber ducks and knew exactly what to do.
So I snagged her wrist and towed her toward another booth.
“Where are we going?” she said on an annoyed laugh.
The feel of her slight wrist in my fist made my insides all fizzy.
I pulled her to a stop in front of a booth sporting tiered rows of creepy-looking stuffed clowns and a pile of bean bags.
“Down the Clown.” I gestured to the dirty dolls with a flourish. “Go ahead and pick out your prize. I’ll only be a minute.” I slapped a soggy twenty on the counter and picked up my first bean bag. They were farther away than the guy down the counter from me figured. He couldn’t hit one to save his life.
I wound up and tossed one, knocking it off its stand.
“Think you can beat Henry?” she asked, smiling.
“Blindfolded.” Thunk. Down went another clown.
“Did Henry have anything to do with you acting like a twat?”
The word twat from her mouth in that accent killed me—my dick twitched to life in my swim trunks. “Twat, huh? I forgot the words y’all use without shame. Say cunt in a sentence.”
I lined up to shoot as she came closer, stretching on her tiptoes. Her breath tickled my ear when she said, “Cunt,” the hard T sending shivers down to my balls.
God in heaven, the sound of the word in her mouth set my twitchy dick to a full salute in one very efficient heartbeat.
I threw the beanbag to distract myself.
She backed up, smirking as she watched me for a moment. “You really love baseball, don’t you?”
“It was my whole life, in another life.”
“How long did you play?”
“Through college.”
She hummed. “Did you ever want to play professionally?”
“Almost did.” Thunk.
“What happened?”
“Mama got cancer.” I tested the weight of the beanbag before, thunk. The attendant set another stack on the counter.
When she spoke, I could hear her frowning, but I refused to look. “What do you mean?”
“There was no one to take care of her, so I did.”
Silence for another throw. I watched the orange tuft of fuzzy hair as the doll flew into the air a little before falling. I didn’t elaborate, but she still didn’t speak.
“I’d been drafted to play for Atlanta—just got my contract. But instead of signing it, I came home.”
Thunk.
“Surely they would have taken you after . . .”
