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I curse under my breath as he and Tate both turn in our direction. Luke smiles, but she goes completely still. She’s shocked to see me here. Nervous too, by the looks of it.
I take her in from head to toe, and quite frankly, I’m surprised Luke let her out of the house in that dress.
Her silver sequined gown is tight from her shoulders down to her hips. Even then, it only flares slightly, just enough that she can walk without having to shuffle one inch at a time. The deep V neckline sits snugly across her chest. Her hair is swept back in a twist, and her shimmering earrings dangle down on either side of her slender neck. I’m left looking back and forth between her red lips—the only pop of color on her—and the slit that peels up her right thigh when she moves to say something to her brother.
Dustin looks over at me and raises his eyebrows. “Guess we won’t be friendless losers here after all. C’mon.” He hurries to catch up to them, leaving me as the last straggler.
Luke claps his hand on my shoulder when I reach them. “Good to see you, Grant.”
“Hey, Luke.”
Of all the guys on the team, I know Luke the least. He’s slightly older than us, engaged, and a father. He’s at a totally different point in his life than I am. When we’re playing in the city, he wants to be with his family. When we’re on the road, he wants to be focused on the game or back at the hotel, resting up and FaceTiming Chloe and Harper. It doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room for team bonding, which is why I still feel slightly nervous around him. This is the guy I cheered on from my dorm room in college. A legend in the sport. Someone I hope to be in a few years.
Oh, right, and I want to sleep with his sister. There’s that minor detail to contend with…
“You know Tate, right?” Luke asks. Before either of us can answer, he continues, “Of course. Yeah, I saw you two talking at a game a while back. Remind me, did you meet through Josh and Dustin?”
Am I reading too much into it or is there a sharpness in his voice? I don’t know. Maybe I’m only imagining it.
“No. Actually, we met at a party,” Tate says, lifting a taunting brow.
I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t drop. Is she about to…
“Grant came with Josh and the guys, but I didn’t realize that.” Her hazel eyes scold me playfully as she continues, “He let me think he was just a normal guy the whole night when really he was the Pinstripes’ newest hotshot.”
Dustin laughs. “See, I’m still confused by that. Didn’t you recognize him?”
Tate shrugs. “Somehow…no.”
Luke smiles as his gaze shifts to the attendees surrounding us. “We’re blocking traffic. C’mon, Tate, let’s find our table. You guys should be near us. In fact, I’d be surprised if they didn’t seat us all together.”
He’s right. The event organizers placed us all at a table in the center of the room, right in front of the stage. Everyone claims their seats and I’m left between Tate and Dustin, which seems like a recipe for disaster.
Tate sits down, and that provocative slit rides up her thigh—nearly too high—before I help tuck her chair in.
“Is that good?” I ask, wanting to make sure she’s comfortable.
“Perfect.”
Luke nods in thanks, likely because he was about to do the same thing himself.
“You have any sisters, Grant?” he asks as I take my seat.
“I wish. I’m an only child,” I tell him as I adjust my tuxedo jacket.
“Where’s your family?”
“My dad is in Phoenix.”
He nods in understanding. “Did he play ball?”
“He played as a kid back in Mexico then some as an adult.”
Luke’s brows shoot up.
“Not like what you’re thinking,” I correct with a chuckle. “There are adult rec leagues where I live, guys who get together on Sundays and play. Nothing serious.”
“He must be so proud of you,” Tate cuts in with a warm smile.
I don’t have to wonder. I hear it after every game. I feel it every time I round those bases and claim a run for my team. It’s all because of the sacrifices he made for me.
Waiters come around to fill our wine glasses.
Luke teases his sister. “I like the dress you picked. Clearly, you weren’t going for subtlety. You almost look like you’re back in your pageant days. Mom would be proud.”
“Pageant?” I ask, butting in.
It’s hard to imagine. Even now, done up to the nines, Tate doesn’t seem like the beauty queen type. I don’t know why, exactly. She’s beautiful enough to participate in that world, sure, but I just can’t see her prancing around on a stage like that.
Tate blushes. “Yes, if you can believe it, I competed in pageants for almost a decade. Just little shows around Texas.”
