“Glad you made it safely,” she said. “Who’s this?”
“This is Heidi, Mom—” I said, as my dad made his way to the front hallway.
“Good game, son. How’s the ankle?”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was still a worry, but with tape and ankle supports, there was every expectation that it would heal back to normal.
“Doesn’t matter,” my dad continued as he bumped me on the shoulder. “Just hit a homer every time, then you don’t have to run the bases.”
“That’s my plan,” I answered with a grin. But then they were looking at Heidi and it was time to explain. “Mom, Dad, this is Heidi Wong. She’s an old friend from college.”
Heidi extended her hand to greet them but kept her expression wary. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.
“And old friend?” Mom said. “Oh! I thought you were that reporter girl who’s been asking questions—”
“I am a reporter, Mrs. Lee. And I’m doing a story on your son.”
Trust Heidi to say the hard truth immediately. The woman did not know how to be sneaky, and it was one of the things I adored about her.
“Really?” my dad said, his voice rumbling low. “I’m surprised the Bobcats didn’t send someone more veteran to—”
“It’s not approved,” I interrupted. “And she’s not writing a story. She’s just an old friend.”
The silence all but roared through the hallway. All three of them looked at me like my hair was on fire. They all knew the details of my contract. Or at least the relevant ones. But I folded my arms and glared at each one in turn.
“She’s not here to write a story,” I repeated. “And we’re just here to talk.”
My mom’s fingers twisted together. “Oh. Well. Are you sure that’s wise?”
My dad cleared his throat. “Son, that’s not a good idea.”
I held up my hands to stop them, but the moment they quieted, Heidi spoke up. “You should listen to them, Rob. I’m going to write an article. I have to.” Her gaze canted away. “My rent depends on it.”
That wasn’t the real truth, and we both knew it. Yeah, maybe she did need rent money, but I wasn’t surprised that she was pursuing an article. The moment Nico threatened her, I knew she’d still find a way to publish something. She was a journalist. She asked hard questions and pushed for good answers. It’s who she was, and I liked it. Unfortunately, it put me in an awkward position. How could I talk to her without screwing up both our lives?
I looked hard at Heidi and this time I didn’t focus on the way her sleek black hair framed her golden skin. I didn’t look at her mouth or the way she moved in a way that immediately drew my eyes to the sway of her hips. I looked into her brown eyes and saw the worry there. And the apology.
She’d been trying to apologize to me when I’d pulled down her panties in the press box and fucked her until my head had exploded. This was all my fault, and she was the one trying to apologize to me.
“Well,” I said, “let’s make sure you give them something that’s true, okay?”
She nodded, her expression determined. “I always write the truth.”
I could see the determination in her. She was so gloriously fierce that I wanted her again just like in the press box—with a fever that burned through my blood and whited out my brain. But I wasn’t going to give into that with my parents standing beside us. That was half the reason we were here, because if anything was going to make me keep my dick in my pants, it was them. Nobody wanted to have sex when their parents were around. Well…almost nobody because apparently, my penis didn’t care. It had gotten hard the second I’d seen her walking down the street toward the motel.
But first things first. I had to deal with this non-interview. “Mom, could you heat up some meatloaf for us? I’ve been talking up your food for years. I’m going to change out of my press clothes.”
My momtsked even as she headed for the kitchen. “You look very nice in those clothes. Heidi, I just made some fresh lemonade. It’s not as sweet as the men like, but I say if they’re going to poison their bodies with sugar, then they can add it themselves.”
Mom could make lemonade and meatloaf like nobody’s business, all while distracting Heidi with her knowledge of the latest health crazes. The lecture on the evils of sugar had my dad gnashing his teeth, but it was the perfect way to fill the time while I remembered who I was outside of the Bobcats. So I rushed upstairs to my bedroom. Mom kept it neater than I ever did, and right on the dresser sat a stack of my newest press clippings. I didn’t even look at those. I’d learned early that press was the fastest way to screw with a man’s head. I never played better than when I was completely ignorant of what people were saying about me. So I quickly dumped them into the wastebasket and set it by the door so I’d remember them on the way out.
I was just pulling on my jeans when my father knocked on the door. I could tell it was him by the slow, steadybam. Two knocks followed by a single word.
“Son.”
I leaned forward and spun the knob. He didn’t enter but stood framed in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. I didn’t speak. I knew he’d get to it eventually and besides, I was pulling on my boots.
“Are you sure about this?” he finally asked.
