“Oh, okay,” she murmurs, her head swiveling to look around. Stooping down, she rummages through a box under the table, then stands up again. “Here. These are my favorite electrolyte products. There are a couple of different flavors, so see if you like any of them. Just add them to water and shake.”
“I do know what an electrolyte is,” I remark dryly. “Career in sports. Remember?”
“Oh. Um. Yep,” she says cheerfully, but a light pink color stains her cheeks beautifully. “You just seemed out of it, so I wasn’t sure.”
“I seemed out of it.”
“You did. You were staring, and you didn’t blink once. And honestly, since it seemed like you maybe were staring at my …” she leans in, lowering her voice, “… my nether regions, it was highly inappropriate.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. Jesus, I stared at her pussy long enough that she noticed? Fucking hell. “Sorry. I guess I did zone out. I wasn’t staring at … well, I wasn’t staring. Not purposely. I need to go.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes wide. More silver than blue today. My mind zings off to another inappropriate place, wondering what color her eyes are when she comes. “Max, you’re doing it again.”
“Fuck me,” I croak, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m really sorry. I need a pre-game nap.”
“Coach said if he sees you eat that, he’ll consider putting you on the lineup.” Some of Layla’s bravado comes back as she straightens her posture and clears her throat. “So don’t run back to your room, intent on throwing it out and ordering whatever you want. Either Coach or someone has to see you eat it.”
“God,” I groan. “I’m getting treated like a child.”
Slinking over to the nearest table, I slam down into the chair.
“Yeah,” Layla calls out, laughter in her voice. “You’re totally not acting like a child right now.”
I huff heavily as I pull out the fork attached to the box. Bending down, I take a whiff and don’t find the entire mixture to smell abhorrent. I let out an amused murmur as I poke each of the vegetables with the fork, surprised to find them mostly soft. I hate raw vegetables, even with a dip. Gnawing on a carrot just isn’t for me. But when one of the carrots here seems to almost disintegrate as I push my fork into it, I quickly shovel it into my mouth. And, just as Layla says, the flavor bursts on my tongue. Christ Almighty, it is so damn good. I detect a little bit of pepper, garlic, and maybe some thyme on the carrots. It isn’t overpowering, and the spices work together to accentuate the carrot instead of blurring it completely.
Cutting a piece of the pesto chicken, I legitimately moan when it hits my taste buds. I’m lost in a whirling maze of flavor combinations I’ve never thought about, and I inhale the food in record time. Only when I’m scraping the bottom of the box do I realize I’ve attracted an audience.
Looking up, I find Coach, Jake, Ryder, and Alberto watching me with varying stages of laughter. Off to the side, I see Layla grinning smugly at me, but there’s also excitement in her eyes. Like she can’twait to see what else she might get me to eat. Challenge accepted, Peaches. As far as I’m concerned, this is a one-time thing.
“Alright,” I finally say. “This’ll do for a pre-game meal. But that’s it. Nothing else.”
“Why?” she asks belligerently. “I can do so many things with chicken. Salmon is a great alternative too, and I haven’t even introduced you to the wonder of cauliflower rice —”
“Absolutely not,” I interrupt. “No cauliflower rice. Regular rice. Brown rice even. Don’t you dare try to grind up a vegetable and tell me it’s something else. Now, can I play tonight?”
Coach smiles victoriously. “Never took you out of the lineup. Just figured I needed to light a fire under your ass to take your health seriously.”
I turn to Layla, raising a brow at her. “Did you know this?”
Her smug smile returns. “I did.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter, grabbing my things. “Well played, Peaches.”
“Have a good nap, Sunshine,” she calls out as I walk out of the room.
I have a great nap.
And a phenomenal game.
It might be the best Opening Day game I’ve ever had. I went three-for-five, two RBIs, and a double. We won the game in convincing fashion, which is apparently a rarity in Colorado. I guess the Raptors don’t win Opening Day very often. I would have liked a home run, but I’m happy with my stats for the game.
In the back of my mind, however, I’m wondering if it was Layla’s damn meal that did it. Or was it the nap? Luck? Coincidence? Who knows.
Once I’m back in my hotel room, too keyed up to go to sleep, Imessage Kale Kween to see if she wants to meet up. It’s true what they say about athletes and endorphins after games. I need a release, and a woman who will let me take control.
Me: I’ve had an excellent day in Chicago, and I’m really hoping to end the day with someone. You game?
Kale Kween: After our convo last night, do you really think I’d say no? I’ve been on edge the entire day thanks to your filthy mouth playing in repeat on my mind.
