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“That wouldn’t mean shit and you know it.”
Ross chuckles. “It wouldn’t normally mean shit, but this is different.”
“How?”
He cuts off another bite of omelet and chews, but I abstain from eating until he’s finished with this analysis of my personal life, because I don’t want to die from choking on bacon.
That would be an embarrassing headline for the newspapers.
“She’s living with you, for one, and I know for a fact you’ve never let a woman even come to your house, let alone occupy space. Two, you insist on people treating her with respect. I thought I was going to have to tie you down to keep you from pummeling Freeman the other night. Typically, if it was a girl you didn’t care about, you might have a witty comeback, but it wouldn’t go to blows. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been the cool cucumber of the group, so that’s out of character. Three, I’ve seen the way you look at each other. It’s more than just lust or appreciation for each other’s physical attributes. There’s mutual respect.”
Pulling out my water bottle, I unscrew the cap and take a long drink, trying to let Ross’s words sink in and come up with a response.
“We’ve become good friends,” I finally say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“That would explain the protectiveness and respect, but it doesn’t excuse the pure jealousy I see on your face every time another player gets a little too close to her. You look at her like she’s yours and you’re willing to inflict personal damage on any mother fucker who thinks differently.”
My eyes narrow and I immediately shake my head. “That’s not true. I don’t do that.”
“Okay,” Ross says with a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that… every time you fuck her.”
Reflexively, my elbow nails his bicep. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“I rest my case.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GREER
“Greer,”someone calls out from across the bullpen. “You’ve got a delivery.”
After a moment, I peel my eyes away from the screen of my computer, where I’ve been editing clips for the past hour. Wiping them with my thumb and forefinger, I try to clear the sleepiness.
It’s not that late, but I’ve been here since five o’clock this morning, only taking a couple breaks to get a cup of coffee and text with Mack.
The team has been in California for two days and they’re one game away from sweeping Los Angeles, which brings them only four games away from clinching the division.
“Who’s it from?” I ask, raising my arms above my head and stretching my back. “Because I didn’t order anything.”
“Louisiana Pizza Kitchen.”
My mouth immediately begins to water. Louisiana Pizza Kitchen is one of my favorite restaurants.
“But I didn’t place an order. Are you sure it’s for me?”
He looks at the piece of paper stuck to the bag. “Yep, has your name right here. And it’s for a Goat Cheese Chicken Pasta.”
My heart immediately begins to do this funny thing, where it feels warm and beats faster in my chest. And I swear there’s a herd of butterflies in my stomach.
Mack.
That insufferably sweet man. Even when he’s hundreds of miles away, he still does things that make me swoon. The crazy part, I don’t even think he’s trying most of the time. He’s just instinctually kind and caring. Most people don’t get to see this side of him and that really sucks for them, but I also don’t mind it, because I like that part of him might just be for me.
When the smile on my face grows, he walks closer and sets the bag on the edge of my desk. “I’m assuming we know who this is from by the look on your face, so I’m just going to leave this here and let you have your moment.”
“Ha ha,” I say, already diving into the bag before he’s out of sight. “But if you’ve ever had this Goat Cheese Chicken Pasta, you’d be having a moment too.”
And if you knew my fake boyfriend like I do… that could also make you have a moment.
