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My eyes trailed up the very bare chest, between some fabulous pecs, and even farther up to a very muscular neck before it came to a well-trimmed, bearded jaw.
I stalled hesitantly on a pair of lips that would’ve done any woman proud. They were thick, luscious…lickable.
And those lips started to move, but since his back was to the light, I couldn’t see his lips quite well enough to read what he was saying.
So, I ignored them and continued past them to a crooked, nose, and finally stopping on a pair of sea foam green eyes.
So, of course, that was when I raised my sandwich up to take another bite.
Before I could so much as sink my teeth into the bread, I was hauled back roughly. So roughly that my head snapped to the side, and my hand holding my transmitter convulsed.
The transmitter fell to the floor, and it hit the ground. I watched as the booted foot of the man holding me stepped on it, pulverizing it to little tiny pieces.
My stomach sank.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
Five thousand dollars down the drain.
How do I know how much was down the drain? I’d just gotten that new unit just last month after saving for it for three long years.
My knees sagged, and the fingers holding the sandwich let go.
Tears started to immediately leak out of my eyes as I watched my hopes and dreams literally swirl down the drain.
My eyes went up to the man that was holding me by the arm, and he gave it another good yank, causing me to cry out in pain.
I wasn’t a big girl. In fact, I was a five-foot-three, one-hundred-and twenty-seven-pound woman. The man holding me was at least my brother’s height—which was six-foot-four—and looked to be made of solid muscle. I already knew that his one hand could fit around my entire arm.
“Let me go!” I cried out.
The man didn’t let me go until I was on the sidewalk, which was a good twenty feet from where I’d been originally.
The minute I was free, the tears came faster.
Then I ran up the walkway to the still open door of my house, slammed it closed, and fell to my knees, continuing to sob.Chapter 2Sometimes there is crying in baseball. Sometimes players also take fast pitches to the nuts, too.
-Rhys to Henley
Rhys
“What the fuck was that, Colder?” I barked at the bodyguard that the league had begun to require that I have.
Apparently, I was a hot commodity, and if I wanted to keep starting and playing for the Texas Lumberjacks, I’d let the owner have peace of mind by having a bodyguard. Though, he wasn’t there if I was at home usually. However, tonight I’d had a party, and the owner had practically demanded that we have security present.
There was an approved guest list, however, and there wasn’t a single person here that I didn’t know.
Except for the woman, of course.
The moment I saw her, though…well then, I’d wanted to know her.
I’d been asking her for her name, too, when Colder had yanked her away like she was a prize I’d stolen out of the machine without winning it fair and square.
“Unauthorized…” he started to explain as I held up my hand.
“She’s obviously my neighbor,” I pointed out.
Colder shrugged, then his eyes narrowed on something in the grass.
He walked over and picked it up, and I knew the moment that I saw it exactly what it was.
My sister was deaf. My sister, at the age of two and a half to my seven, had gotten cochlear implants.
I still remembered, to this day, what she looked like after she’d come out of surgery. Her entire head had been wrapped so completely with gauze that I could make out nothing but her little nose and her cute bow tie lips.
“Give it to me,” I snapped.
He did, and I nearly moaned at the sight of the speech processor and transmitter, obviously broken, in my hands.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Fuck it all.”
I immediately started toward the door that was slammed so sharply shut just a few feet away from my own and started to knock.
When I felt Colder’s presence at my back, I turned around and shot him a glare.
“Back the fuck off.”
“Yo, pretty boy,” I heard Hancock ‘Parts’ Peters call. “You were the one that interrupted my night with Sway, the least you could do is spend the fuckin’ time with us.”
I flipped the motherfucker off and continued to knock, then started to curse.
If I was holding the goddamn transmitter in my hand, then she wouldn’t be able to hear me knocking.
Goddammit!
I immediately reached for my phone and called my sister.
My sister, Renata, was on my speed dial, but it wasn’t her that answered, it was her husband.
“’Lo?”
“Winston,” I said, though that wasn’t his real name. I made it a point not to use his real name, which was Dewight. It just sounded so weird and outdated. “I need to talk to my sister.”
