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“No worries. Just to prove I have so much confidence in you, I’m going to tell you a secret.”
“You are?”
“Yep. Mary is going to Banger’s Grill tonight after the game. She always goes there to unwind. Couple beers in her and you’ll have your in.”
“The fuck you say? You think I need my women drunk to get them in my bed?”
“You might. I mean, she saw you signing some chick’s tits the first time you met.” Parker pipes up, and I glower at him.
“You all are going to hell,” Ryder mumbles. He’s a good guy who grew up in Wyoming on a horse farm. Wears a damn cowboy hat whenever he goes out. He comes from a long line of rodeo stars, and yet, he’s into baseball. There are rumors he could have been world champ in the PBR if he wanted, but he hates it. That’s something that pisses his old man off to no end. All that’s kind of foreign to me. Then again, I don’t know what having an old man around is like.
“Fine. You fuckheads can go with me to Banger’s and watch me work my magic on pretty, little Mary. I’ll expect every damn one of you to give me an apology.”
“You manage to get between her legs, and you got mine,” Parker speaks up.
“Mine, too,” Finn laughs. The bastard acts like I can’t do it—which just makes me more determined.
“You in, Ryder?” Big Mike asks.
“Oh, I’m definitely in. You all are bastards. I almost feel sorry for Slate.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I murmur, my gaze going back to the stands. Mary is staring straight at me. My lips stretch into a satisfied smile. “I’m going to show Mary the time of her life tonight.”
Every fucking one of the assholes start laughing.
“Hey, cut it out. Get your mind on the game,” Green growls and we all turn our attention to him. Old Rooster, who is kind of our assistant coach—maybe, it’s not clear—is sitting beside him petting Gladys, his pet chicken.
Sometimes I think I fell into a looney bin when I joined this team. I look back to Mary.
She’s going to make it all worth it.
CHAPTER2
Marigold
“You watched me tonight.”
I turn to look at Slater. I try to fight my smile, but I can’t. He’s too funny. The man does deserve an A for effort. Besides, he’s not exactly wrong. I did watch him. I couldn’t seem to keep from it.
“I watched the game, not you slick.”
“How about I buy you a drink and we talk about it?”
“I already have a drink,” I counter, sliding my glass slightly against the bar.
“Hey, my girl here will have another and get me the usual,” he says, ignoring me and sitting on the stool beside me.
Definitely an A for effort.
“I’m not your girl, sport.”
“Not yet,” he says with a sly grin.
“Tell me something, do you ever take no for an answer?” I ask, trying not to notice how good he looks in faded jeans and a black Led Zepplin T-shirt. I mostly fail at that. I remember thinking he looked like a young Lenny Kravitz. Now, I think he’s even hotter than Lenny. That can’t be good. I’m going to have to do something before I go completely stupid and give him what he’s working so hard to get.
“Not when I know it’s worth the effort.”
“I tell you what, explain to me why you think I’mworth the effortand if I believe you, then I’ll give you a second shot to make me believe you areworth my time.”
