“Noon. They will have food and games, then there’s a break for the crew to clean up and the players to have some downtime before our game,” I say, trying not to stare at her ass as she dries her hands and failing. “I can meet you here and we can walk over.”
“A man with a plan, I like it. You better bring your A game, Tellez,” she jokes, using my last name like the guys on the team do. Her ridiculous, competitive streak is a pleasant surprise and just one more thing that makes me admire her.
I push through the door ofBuns & Rosesthe next morning to find Delilah bent over a pan of brownies, dusting them with powdered sugar. For a moment it looks like she’s only wearing her apron, her tiny black shorts and tank top barely peeking out.
Then she straightens up, giving me a look at her face. A rough laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Delilah’s face twists in confusion as she wipes her hands down the front of her apron, leaving white streaks from the powdered sugar. “What’s so funny?”
I cross the coffee shop in a few quick strides, so I’m across the counter from her. Wordlessly, I lift my hand to her face, cupping her jaw in my palm and brush the pad of my thumb over her cheekbone, where she has a generous dusting of powdered sugar.
“You’re so sweet you’re turning into one of your desserts,” I tell her, and, because I can’t help myself after the way she tortured me yesterday, I hold eye contact with her while I lick the sweet powder off my thumb. Delilah’s pupils dilate and her hands comes up, covering the spot on her cheek I just touched. I smack my lips as my thumb leaves my mouth, breaking her out of her trance.
Clearing her throat, she grabs a rag, wiping the leftover mess off her face. “Let’s see if you still think I’m sweet when I’m yelling at you to run faster during the three-legged race.”
“You know I’m a professional athlete, right? I think I’ll be able to keep up.” She just looks at me doubtfully before setting the brownies aside, untying her apron and slipping it over her head to reveal a barely-there outfit that shows off her tight body.
Jesus Christ, is she trying to kill me? I knew the shorts were tiny—they’re also molded to her, leaving nothing to the imagination. But it’s the damn tank top that almost pushes me over the edge. It’s teal, strappy, and cropped, showing off a few inches of skin. It must have some sort of bra built in because her round tits sit high on her chest and are trapped so tightly in the top that they barely move.
She’s your best friend. Stop looking at her tits and ass, Cruz.
“Mikey, I’m heading out,” Delilah says, hanging her apron up. Squatting, she grabs her jersey and purse from under the counter. Talk about conflicting emotions. I’m pretty certain I can hear my dick weeping and yelling“STOP”as she slides it up her arms covering her tempting body, but every other part of me is rejoicing at the sight of my name across her back. It makes the cracks in my heart start to fuse back together.
I follow her out the door, holding it as she passes, not wanting to look away from the seven letters stitched between her shoulders until I have to.
When we step out onto the field at the stadium, it’s a maze of people. Players, staff, and spouses are chasing giggling kids and corralling them toward activities. Some of the younger guys have brought siblings or parents and are congregated by the food and drinks. The atmosphere is a lot like a carnival—if you transformed a baseball diamond into a midway. There’s a face painting table teaming with kids who are hyped-up on cotton candy. Not far from that, Coach is sitting in a dunk tank while some of our rookies are lined up to take their turn dunking him.
Wren, our team coordinator, walks over, presenting us with teal cotton candy and a schedule of events.
“Hey, Wren, this is my friend Delilah.”
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to your first Denver Bandits Family Day!” she says, excitedly. “Your schedule has all the activities here, and there’s a map on the back. Let me know if you have questions.” She flips it over, pointing to the map.
“Can you tell us about the competition for the three-legged race?” Delilah bounces on the balls of her feet next to me, her face schooled. It would be ridiculous if it wasn’t cute as hell.
“Lincoln and his brother have won it three years and counting,” she says with a dreamy look in her eyes.
“Well, their luck is about to run out. Anyone else we need to be on the lookout for?” Delilah asks as Wren looks between us, trying to figure out if she’s serious.
“Watch out for Coach and his wife. She’s feisty and has been gunning after the trophy for years. Between you and me, she’s not above tripping.”
Delilah’s face hardens into a stoney expression. “Thanks for the heads up. I respect her drive.”
Wren nods politely and walks over to where Lincoln just walked in with his brother. Pain blossoms across my sternum seeing them here together. Growing up my family was inseparable. Even with the hours my parents put into building their business, they never missed a game. When college recruiters started showing interest there was no question that Jarrett would follow in my footsteps and join me at University of Texas. That was my mom’s condition, we stay together and pick a school in the south so we could come home for holidays, and they could visit as much as possible
Delilah pulls on my arm dragging me out of my memories. “We can totally take them. I’m way more agile than either of them. Do you think we will get a practice run?” She’s looking up at me and peering around to check out the competition every so often. Her face is so fucking serious that I can’t help but smile.
“Come with me.” I take her hand, leading her off the field to an empty hallway outside the clubhouse. “Wait here for a minute.”
I duck into the locker room and grab a belt out of my cubby. When I get back into the hallway, I hold it up for her to see. She claps her hands excitedly.
“Why do I feel like this is where your villain origin story starts?” I hand her the belt so she can do the honor of strapping us together. I’d be lying if I said seeing that belt in her hands didn’t give me some highly inappropriate thoughts about my best friend. But like always, I bury the filthy thoughts, focusing on the task at hand.
“Stop, you love it. You are just as competitive as I am.” She stoops, lining her leg up with mine. When she bends to tether us together, it’s clear how poorly matched we are. I’m almost a foot taller than her. Running tied together is going to be a spectacle.
She loops the belt around our legs, just above the ankle, and stands, beaming up at me. “Please don’t fall on me. You’re huge and I’m just a little thing.”
Damn right I am.“I promise to sacrifice myself not to hurt you. But let’s try to stay upright.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight to my side. She does the same to me.
“I think we want to try to move swiftly, but in sync. It’s not all about speed,” she explains before we take a step, testing it out.
