Page 57 of Double Play

“You know, I always wanted to play,” I whisper, as the actresses playing sisters discuss joining the newly developed female teams because men were being drawn into war.

Declan hums, twirling strands of my hair around his finger.

I’d been a decent hitter; as much as one can be before twelve years old. Because my father was a former pitcher, then a coach in my younger years, he’d been an excellent teacher . . . to Isaiah. However, I refused to sit on the sidelines. I demanded my turn at bat, and I intended to play.

Then I turned twelve.

Then I heard Dad make his comment about Title IX.

Because of my age, I couldn’t continue playing with the boys in their league. There wasn’t a baseball league for girls.

“I bet you were a real slugger,” Declan teases.

I punch him lightly in his tight abs to prove his point. He tugs me closer to his side and kisses the top of my head.

“It wasn’t fair,” I whisper. Not allowed to play. Not encouraged by my father.

“I know, sweetheart.” He squeezes me to this side again.

And it’s one reason I’m hellbent on proving myself in other ways.

However, this evening I’m relaxed more than relentless, and because I work unusual hours, my sleep pattern is a bit irregular. Staying up late and sleeping later in the mornings is my norm, but this morning I’d been awake earlier than usual. Whether it was the anticipation of this evening or something else, I don’t know. What I do know is that I am too comfortable in Declan’s arms and eventually doze off with my head against his chest.

When I wake, Madonna is singing “This Used to Be My Playground” which is part of the movie’s end credits, and Declan is stroking his fingers through my hair where my head is resting on his thigh.

I quickly press myself upright. “Oh my God. Did I fall asleep?”

Declan only chuckles, slinging his arm over the back of my couch while I’m perched on my extended arm, still a little dazed.

“That tends to happen when one closes her eyes in a dark room,” he scoffs, giving me a crooked smile.

“You must think I’m so lame.” Who falls asleep with the man of her dream’s finally in her home?

Glancing down at his jeans, the slight outline of a wet spot is highlighted on his thigh.

I even drooled on him!

Declan lovingly brushes back my hair, which must be wild from lying my head in his lap. He swipes more strands over my shoulder and then scoops some over my ear.

“You can sleep on me anytime.” He winks. “But not tonight.” He presses off the couch, standing to his full height, and holds out his hand. “Tonight, you need rest.”

“What?” I must be hearing him incorrectly. He doesn’t want to have sex with me? I wince internally, certain he now sees me as some hot mess who needs to go to bed to “rest up”.

Even stranger, after taking my hand he leads me to the front door and then stops at the bottom of the steps leading up to the second floor and my bedroom. He sits down on the landing and slips into his shoes.

“What are you doing?”

Once his shoes are tied, he stands to his full height again. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”

We’d been joking about the necessity earlier, but I don’t care about a toothbrush right now. I want him to take me upstairs.

Leaning forward, he kisses the corner of my mouth. I cup the back of his neck before he can retreat too far and pull him to my mouth. Forget jalapeño breath. I want his lips on mine. His hands on my backside. Mine on his⁠—

Declan abruptly pulls away, leaving me chasing his lips.

“You’re not staying?” I question as he stands still, not making any attempt to lead us up the staircase.

He cups my jaw and leans in for a second kiss. One more thorough. Tongue and teeth, sucking all the air from me.