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We watch the kids and talk about work and whatever other bullshit brothers talk about as I finish my coffee and Natalie brings out the pancakes, as Tor calls the kids out of the pool.
“Come in and grab some plates with me.” Natalie nods toward the house and I follow, watching her waddle as she goes.
“So, what are the rest of your Saturday plans? Sleep?” she asks.
I open the door from the patio to the kitchen as she goes in ahead of me. Sophia is nowhere to be seen, but that’s no unusual. Probably had some inspiration strike her and had to go write down a recipe in Natalie’s home office before it went out of her head.
“No. I’m playing at the Reginald Park in some kid’s charity softball game at ten. Fuck knows how long that will take.”
What I want to be doing is going balls deep into my mystery girl. Giving her every inch of this stiffy I can’t seem to control. I think of the pouty smirk she tossed me before she headed out the door. The way her ass looked in her white jeans and her tits, fuck, filling out the lavender tank top like it was custom made to fit her.
I have to figure out how to find her. How to make her mine. Blonde, about five foot five, maybe twenty years old, maybe one forty, one fifty, curves to kill and blue fucking eyes like the summer sky. That’s all I got. Wonder how long it will take to track her down…
My other option is to go pound the shit out of every swinging dick at the game last night until someone gives me a morsel of information.
That’s plan A. Right after this fucking softball game.
“You? Charity? Kids?” She gives me a smirk and passes a stack of white plastic plates into my hands as she grabs the syrup and silverware in a metal carrier.
“I know, right?”
“Must have been some hit you took.”
I shrug. “I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, that’s good and the charity game sounds like fun.”
Fun.
Sure.
As much as a pair of sunburned balls I bet.
CHAPTER 2
Anna
It’s the perfect summer day. White fluffy clouds glide aimlessly across the blue sky. It’s not too hot, no chance of rain and I’m excited for the game. Not so much for me, but for my kids. My team.
Everything is going to plan until the ‘ringer’ my father was supposed to secure for me shows up and I want to call the whole thing off.
My father told me he would be sure to get me someone that would help our team win. I didn’t think he meant one of his goons from the poker table.
I watched the enormous blacked-out SUV pull up, then when the driver’s door opened, and the broody, dark-haired hunk stepped out, I knew immediately who he was.
Cyrus Saman.
I know because my father talks too much and tells me every monolithically boring detail about his poker games, along with descriptions of all the players. I know Cyrus is arrogant, and an asshole, at least when he’s playing cards. I’d never seen him before last night, when I got to the penthouse later than usual to make sure all the chips and money for the night were set up and locked away where only my father had access.
He’s told me many things about Mr. Saman, besides his skill at cards. He dabbles in many businesses. Some legit, some not. I know he has a thing for jewelry. Rare pieces, gems with a story behind them, antique items from history and of course, the bigger and more expensive the better.
Legit or not, that doesn’t bother me.
My father’s never been one to operate completely above board himself, and my inherent talent for numbers had me helping keep the family and business books from the age of fifteen, so there’s no secret about where our money comes from.
I re-focus on the enormous, lumbering man walking near the dugout and wonder why he’s staring at me like I’m the cherry on top of his hot fudge sundae.
I will admit, I spent more time than usual in the shower with my handheld last night after he locked eyes with me as I left the penthouse. I felt a tap dance start down between my legs and it didn’t give up until I found relief as the warm water pulsed against my throbbing clit. Now he’s standing here, arms crossed, and I wonder where he got the shiner because it wasn’t there when I saw him last night.
It’s hot as heck all the sudden as I make a ‘T’ with my hands and look around at my rag-tag team of volunteers and residents from the Welsh Children’s Center. I grew up with so many advantages. My mother taught me to always be mindful of others and our holidays were often spent at soup kitchens and shelters, exchanging our time for someone else’s comfort.
