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Stopping is not something me or my dick want but my brain wants an explanation about why she blames me for getting hurt. I back away, giving us a moment to think about what we’re doing.
Pulling away, I say, “I have to—it’s called self-preservation.” I cannot be jerked around like Julia did to me. I can’t do the on-again off-again relationship, not that we have a relationship, but her kissing me, then pulling away isn’t something I can keep doing. I am the exact opposite of a playboy, not having a one-nighter in my repertoire.
I scan the lawn to see if anyone is sitting in the hammock at the edge of the yard. Yep, it’s taken by a couple dry humping. At least I think they’re clothed. There’s no privacy here. My hand stings when I reach over her and unlock the gate.
“Are you leaving?” she asks.
“Yeah. Your place or mine?” I see the panic in her eyes and the tremble snaking up her spine. “We need privacy.”
Suddenly, she fidgets with her scarf and folds her lips over her teeth. I need to understand what’s going on inside that head of hers. It hits me that I saidyour place or minelike sex after a date.
“Adalee, I want to get to know you. I need to understand why you blame me for your injury. I’m not trying to get into your pants. I just want to talk in private.”
I interlace my fingers with hers. They’re so small compared to mine, but to me they fit perfectly like I’m the leather glove on her hand.
“Just tell me what you want.” My fingers thread through my hair. I walk through the gate this time. “If you’re ready to leave, I’ll take you home, walk you to the door and stand outside until you tell me…” My voice strains and cracks. “How I caused you to tear your ACL. I wasn’t even there.”
Her brown eyes water as she stares at me and I swear there must be a magnet on my hand because once again, I’m holding onto her. She follows me to my Range Rover, and I give her a little lift inside.
She whispers, “Okay, let’s go to my apartment.”
The quick ride is quiet, and the unknown permeates my consciousness. Yes, I want to kiss her more and often. Thoughts of her are derailing my Fall Baseball Camp. Coach knows I’m distracted and off my game. So, when I turn into a parking spot in front of her apartment, I spill my guts.
“Adalee, I’m not good at living in the unknown. My parents have always been planners, schedulers. They had to be with five children spanning more than a decade difference. I can’t live in chaos.” She sneaks a peek at my profile before looking out the window. “Ever since I saw you, I’ve been twisted tighter than a rope. You’ve been hurt and so have I, but the difference is I’m moving forward and willing to trust the right person.”
My fingers strum against the steering wheel, hoping she’ll just start talking. I leave the truck running because the temperature keeps falling. The temperature difference between inside and outside fogs up the windows. Anyone that comes upon my vehicle might think something is going on. Pushing the defrost button, I ask, “Do you want to talk here or inside?”
She answers, “Here.”
Her demeanor has changed from the girl sayingdon’t stopto wanting to talk in the car instead of her warm apartment. Trust must be an issue for her. “Do you want the seat warmer on?”
She nods, so I press the switch on my steering wheel that activates her seat. I watch her picking at her royal blue nail polish, prompting me to ask, “Did you paint your nails blue for the game?”
I looked up her gymnastics pictures online. Her nails were painted in our school colors, sometimes embellished with a stallion or rhinestones. It’s out of character because she doesn’t wear much makeup, but she takes the time to get a manicure on game day.
She spreads her fingers, looking at them fondly. “Yeah,” she says, pausing. “Why did you ask Logan to invite me to the suite instead of doing it yourself?”
Inspecting her jeans, I put my hand on her thigh. “The odds were better if my new bestie asked, since you’re so fond of him.” I tip my head and raise my brows. “Honestly, I knew if he invited you, you’d come. My goal was to get you there and then work my magic. I must be rusty.”
Adalee half-laughs. “You still have it—don’t worry.”
Silence fallsand the flickering lights from passing cars illuminate the confined space. We’ve danced around the issue long enough.
Why is she confident in some situations? And in others, almost innocent? The moon glows, framing her face. The straight but delicate silhouette of her nose is gorgeous. It feels like we’re in a movie that’s too dark but it intensifies the scene.
”Talk. Tell me why you’re blaming me for your ACL injury.”
The windows begin to fog.
My voice strains. “How did I hurt you just by you thinking about me?” I ask, desperately trying to understand her logic. I reposition myself so I’m open to her, one knee bent in the seat with my back against the car door. “Adalee, please.”
She pulls her feet onto the black leather and surrounds her knees with her arms, clasping her hands in front. I finger her brown hair, placing a tendril over her shoulder. She sighs. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Your dimples, your smile, and your black waves... ugh, I love your hair.” She rubs her palms together repeatedly. “It’s your best asset.”
That earns her a smile and another light touch against her arm. She shuts her eyes and inhales a short breath.
“I assure you—it’s not even close to my best asset.” There. My bravado is back—not the fake Operation Dickhead but my confidence. Julia ripped that from me for a while, but this summer, Talynn convinced me that I would find my girl at the right time.
Is it my time?
