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I frown as he walks away from everyone and heads toward the old barn. That definitely annoys me.
Has the jerk found someone else to toy with?Does he think I’m that easily forgotten? I start walking toward him. If Slater thinks he can ignore me, he needs to think again.
CHAPTER6
Slater
Christ, this family is nuts.
It’s all kind of alien to me. I didn’t have a family. I’ve been shuffled in and out of foster homes for as long as I can remember. The one thing that saved me was baseball. It gave me a way out of the system and into a good life. I’m not the greatest player ever was, but I hold my own. It puts a roof over my head. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. That was until I got traded to Green Lucas’s team. That’s when I first saw Marigold Lucas. I’ve seen a lot of women in my life—had more than my share. I’ve never seen anything like Marigold. She can be sweet as honey and sour as a lemon.
She has chestnut hair that reminds me of wheat fields in the summer when they blow in the wind. It’s cut to her shoulders—which happen to be the creamiest, sun-kissed shoulders I’ve seen on a woman. I long to drag my lips against them. She gives me shit constantly. Hell, she barely gives me the time of day. When it comes to defenses, Marigold could give the Great Wall of China a run for its money.
I’ve seen her sweet, though. I’ve seen in the way she treats her nieces and nephews. The way she is with her parents and siblings. I see it and I crave it for myself. Eventually, I may give up because she’s refusing to give me the time of day. It’s not going to be today, though.
I’m drawn to her like a junkie needing his next fix.
We’d been playing baseball, but the guys called it a draw and quit for dinner. Now everyone is sitting around the yard in chairs at picnic tables, stuffing their faces.
I haven’t eaten. This is all so foreign to me. I do better one on one—or maybe if the crowd just consists of my team. I’m a loner. It’s a product of the way I grew up, I suppose. I’ve never seen a family except one on the television. I’ve sure never seen one like Green’s.
I edge away from them all, taking a glass of the sweet tea Kage gave me. I feel out of place here. Everyone is happy and having a ball and then there’s me. I mean, I’m fine, but I don’t really have connections with any of these people. If it weren’t for Green asking me personally to go, I wouldn’t be here. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to see Marigold, but it’s better at a game. More times than not, she’s alone. It just hasn’t worked out because she usually leaves before I can make it to the stands. Dealing with people one on one is just easier. Crowds aren’t for me—unless they’re cheering me on from the bleachers. I live for those crowds.
I walk away from everyone, not stopping until I find myself at a barn. I lean my arms on the wooden fence and watch the horses moving about, grazing on the grass. Farms are something else that’s foreign to me. It would be a nice life, though. It’s definitely quiet.
I don’t know how long I stand leaning on the old wood of the fence, lost in thought. I’m there, but it helps to relax me. That is until I hear Mary’s voice. I jerk up to find her staring at me.
“What’s wrong with you?”
God, she’s gorgeous. It’s hard to believe I’ve wanted this woman for over two months, and I’ve hardly ever been alone with her. I fucked up the first time I met her. I didn’t know who she was. I cockily thought she was a Bat-Bunny. That’s basically a chick who comes alone to baseball games to make it with one of the players. That means, I approached her, determined to be the man she was spreading her legs for that night.
Boy, did I have that wrong. That’s and that’s why I’ve had the sharp edge of her tongue since.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t tried to talk to me at all today and now you’re moping down here by the barn while everyone else is up at the house eating.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t really belong there.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s all family. I’m not exactly that, now am I, Marigold?”
“My name is Mary.”
“Your mother called you Marigold. I heard her,” I argue, studying her face, wondering if I’m seeing things or if her eyes really are as blue as they appear right now.
“I hate that name,” she says.
“I love it. It suits you.”
“Marigold suits me? Have you seen those flowers, Bat-Boy?”
I smile at her nickname. I tried to apologize to her and explain I thought she was a Bat-Bunny. That was clearly the wrong thing to do because it spawned her nickname for me. I know I should hate it, but I kind of like it.
“I have. They remind me of the sun—warm and vibrant.”
“Quit trying to feed me lines. I already told you it wouldn’t work.”
