Southern Heat (Game On Book 2) Page 8

  “Selfish man.” She poked him in the chest, but her smile softened the blow. “It’ll be hard to help you if I’ve melted.”

  Oh, she’d melt all right. Under the heat from his tongue. Later, though. While he wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and spend hours feasting between her thighs, he’d made a commitment.

  “I’ll risk it.” He spun her around and gave her cute ass a pop. “Go change.” He checked his watch. They’d be late, but not overly so. “It’s almost game time.”

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you aren’t told no a lot.”

  “Do you have other plans?”

  “No.”

  He took a chance. “Have you ever watched an entire baseball game before?”

  She huffed. “No.”

  “There, you see? There’s two no’s right there.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “Does that mean you’ll come with me?”

  Gabriella’s voice melted. “I certainly hope so.”

  To say the innuendo hit below the belt would be an understatement. His whole body stiffened in response to the wicked laughter she left behind as she rounded the corner, out of sight.

  Gabriella was different from the other women he’d been with. Open and honest. Sweet. Definitely sexy.

  And she wanted to play.

  For the first time in months, Tyler was looking forward to the summer.

  * * *

  The quaint, suburban street was lined with cars. Gabriella recognized the neighborhood as one of the older, more prestigious areas in Little Rock. The houses were large, but a little too close together for her taste.

  Tyler pulled into the driveway of a bungalow style house, a frown marring his handsome profile.

  “Looks like there’s quite a crowd.”

  “You didn’t mention this was a big party.” Nervous energy made her voice shake. Not only was she about to meet Tyler’s family, but apparently half the neighborhood as well.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

  Gabriella poked him in the side, making him jump. “Stop frowning, or you’ll make me think tagging along wasn’t such a great idea.”

  Too late.

  She’d felt weird about it since they left her house. She was part of his therapy team. She called them friends, when in fact they were little more than strangers at this point. Granted, she knew what he did for a living and the particulars of his injury. She knew the feel of his skin. Knew the taste and heat of his mouth.

  Okay, not total strangers. But there were too many unanswered questions.

  Would they really become lovers?

  Her gaze traveled over him. Yeah, the odds were pretty good.

  But for how long? One time? Two? How many times could she be with him before her heart wanted more? Would her heart want more?

  Too. Many. Questions.

  They hadn’t even talked about how he’d introduce her. She shouldn’t be worried about it—any of it—but God help her, she was.

  Swallowing hard, she peered out the window. She’d just have to follow Tyler’s lead. He had more experience traversing the waters of casual … uh … friendships.

  “This is some place,” she said, needing a new train of thought before she made herself crazy.

  “You like it?”

  “What’s not to like? It’s beautiful.” The house had a wide front porch along the front and the greenest lawn Gabriella had ever seen.

  “There’s no pool.”

  Gabriella feigned disappointment. “Oh. Well.” She waved her arm. “Forget it, then. Take me home.”

  A burst of laughter escaped his throat. “Not a chance.”

  He didn’t move to get out of the car. He sat there staring at the house, eyes narrowed. She felt his need to linger more than she understood it. Gabriella turned to face him, determined to get her nerves under control. “This is where you stay when you visit?”

  “No. I usually take a suite at The Capital Hotel.”

  “Oh.” In her line of work, she’d learned how to read people. How to listen to more than what came out of a person’s mouth. The subtle tic in his jaw, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, told her Tyler had specific reasons for staying at a hotel. She wouldn’t pry. Instead, she stayed quiet, giving Tyler the choice to elaborate or change the subject. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “I like my privacy. A commodity hard to come by around here.” Tyler shook his head and sighed as he grabbed the door handle. “Come on, gorgeous. The game’s already started.”

  She could’ve sworn she heard him mumble “Let’s get this over with,” as she threw open her door and got out. She met him at the sidewalk. Tyler slung an arm over her shoulders, fit her against him. He smelled good. Masculine. An intoxicating mixture of sweat and spice.

  He led her to the front door. With a final squeeze, he dropped his arm and knocked once before opening the door.

  Follow his lead.

  “Anyone home?” Tyler called, stepping back to let Gabriella through.

  Footsteps echoed. A man appeared and came to meet them in the foyer. Not as tall as Tyler, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Same strong jaw, same blue eyes, same broad shoulders. That was where the resemblance ended.

  “Good to see you, boy. Late as usual.” The man extended his hand to Tyler. The gesture seemed robotic, lacking any semblance of warmth despite the smile. The man’s gaze swung her way, but he tilted his head with a jerk toward Tyler. “No discipline, this one.”

  The rude greeting set Gabriella on edge. Whenever she went home to see her parents, she was greeted with hugs and kisses. Laughter. Love. If this was what awaited Tyler at home, no wonder he took a room downtown.

  Tyler glanced at her, his jaw tight. “This is my dad, Charlie Brady. Dad, this is Gabriella.”

  Gabriella accepted Charlie’s hand. She hated when men limp-noodled a handshake just because she was a woman. It made her feel inferior, as though she wasn’t worthy of a little effort. She ended the contact as smoothly as she could.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brady.”

  “Call me Charlie.” Then, to Tyler. “And who might she be?”

  “She’s a friend, Dad.”

  She’s standing right here.

  “Right,” Charlie muttered. He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t.

  Jerk.

  “Well then … welcome, Gabriella. As I’m sure you can hear, the men are in the front room watching the game. The others are in the back.”

  “Gabriella’s here to watch the game too, Dad.”

  “You know, I’ve seen Tyler’s stats, Mr. Brady.” Gabriella kept her tone light and friendly. “It would take a great amount of discipline to be ranked as one of the top five first basemen in the league, wouldn’t you think?”

  She should’ve kept her mouth shut.

  Charlie grinned ear-to-ear, as though she’d just handed him a present. “That was last year. Won’t be seeing stats like that this year, will you, boy?” Charlie clapped Tyler on the shoulder.

  His left shoulder.

  Gabriella was stunned. What the hell had she just walked into?

  Tyler didn’t flinch. “Is Mom around?”

  “She went with a friend to Memphis for a few days.” Charlie’s brows lowered. “Game’s already started. Don’t you even want to know how your team is doing without you?”

  Again, Tyler ignored the dig. “We’ll be right in.”

  “I’ve got friends here waiting to see you.”

  Tyler’s whole body went rigid. His fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, sir. We’ll be right in,” he said again.

  Tyler grabbed her elbow. His legs were long and she had to walk fast to avoid being dragged down the short hallway and through the spacious kitchen to a second, less formal living area.

  Gabriella relaxed when she saw Matt. He and Devon were sitting on an oversized sectional, eyes glued to the flat screen mounted above a large stone fireplace. A wom
an who looked to be about Gabriella’s age was curled up next to Devon, reading what looked to be a textbook of some kind. A young man sat to her left.

  They must be the ‘others’ Charlie referred to.

  “Tyler!” The young man shouted and raised a fist in greeting.

  “What’s up, punk?” Tyler walked over and bumped knuckles with the kid. An affectionate smile spread Tyler’s lips. The first Gabriella had seen since they walked in.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Devon tossed a lop-sided grin her way. He slapped his knees and stood. “I thought we’d never see you again.”

  Matt’s brows soared. “You know Gabriella?”

  Devon winked at her. “We go way back, don’t we, Gabby?”

  “Oh yeah, sure we—uh,” she puffed out as Devon swooped her into a bear hug. What the?

  “Sorry about the other night,” Devon whispered against her ear. “But I see it didn’t stop Tyler from getting his hands on you again.”

  “Devon,” she choked out. Her face burned as she tried to wiggle free. She’d rather not share where Tyler’s hands had been with the whole room. “Can’t breathe, big guy.”

  Tyler’s big hand clamped down on Devon’s shoulder. “How about you quit clutching on the lady and give her some space?”

  Devon laughed. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He offered her another wink and set her free.

  Tyler’s expression was unreadable. The tension that had been building since they walked in hovered around him like a storm cloud. He jutted his chin toward the couch. “Of course, you know Matt. The punk over there is my kid brother, Owen. And that’s my sister, Madison. Guys, this is my friend Gabriella.”

  Owen was cute. A much younger version of Tyler with longer hair that curled on the ends. Gabriella would bet he was popular with the girls.

  Madison had set her book aside, and was busy glaring at Devon. When Gabriella caught her eye, she had the distinct feeling she was being measured.

  Oh lord.

  Gabriella sent up a silent prayer for the girl if she was crushing on her brother’s best friend. Devon didn’t seem to notice, or care, about the looks Madison was tossing his way.

  “How’s the game going?” Gabriella asked. That was the reason they were there, after all. Matt slid over to make room for her, then slid some more at Tyler’s insistence. Call her a chicken, but she would prefer to stay with this group rather than be wherever Charlie and his buddies were watching. Tyler urged her to sit so he must’ve had the same thought.

  Follow his lead.

  “New York is up seven to four,” Owen said. “Garrett has hit two home runs. That dude playing your position—Sandquist—he hit a double to bring in a couple of runs.”

  Tyler dropped down to sit on the floor, his right arm brushing her leg. “Oh yeah? That’s great.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned back against the couch.

  “He also ignored a signal and got thrown out at third,” Matt added.

  Gabriella jumped as Tyler’s knuckles brushed over the sensitive skin of her ankle.

  “He’ll hear about it, I’m sure,” Tyler said, his expression neutral. From where he sat, no one would see his wandering hand. Not unless they leaned around him and looked directly at her feet.

  Devon laughed. “Unless I’m mistaken, he was already hearing about it by the time he reached the dugout.”

  Gabriella didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Try as she might to focus on the game, on the chatter about who hit what and when, all she could do was feel.

  Tyler shifted, pushed the heel of her sandal until her foot slipped free. Gabriella tensed as his fingertips caressed the inside arch of her foot. Her heartbeat quickened. She swallowed, trying to keep the rhythm of her breath as steady as possible as he traced the shape of her big toe, tickled over the top of her foot.

  She watched Matt’s mouth move. Devon’s too. Owen’s. They didn’t look to her, so she felt assured they weren’t expecting her to participate. Madison had gone back to her book, ignoring all of them.

  Gabriella stared down at Tyler. A tiny crease in his cheek was the only indication of the smile he held back as he explored the contours of her foot.

  Blood rushed through her body, pulsating in the most inconvenient places. Casually as she could, Gabriella folded her arms across her chest. Her nipples tingled, and she knew without looking they were straining the thin cotton of her tee.

  Tyler drew lazy circles up her calf. Her skin pebbled at his touch, awakened with renewed intensity to feel him—all of him—against her, in her. When he headed for the back of her knee, she jerked her leg up, crossing it securely over the other.

  She squinted at the TV. Bottom of the fourth. If she was expected to watch five more innings, she damn well couldn’t do it with Tyler’s hands distracting her.

  Loud, masculine cheers came from the front of the house.

  Or maybe he was distracting himself.

  “Tyler!” Charlie’s voice boomed through the house.

  “It appears I’m being summoned.” Tyler dropped his head back and gave her a weak smile. “You ready for a drink?”

  Gabriella nodded, wondering if it would be impolite to ask for the whole bottle.

  9

  Tyler sat on his dad’s couch, sulking. He filled his mouth with scotch, savoring the dark flavor that matched his mood.

  Christ. Had he actually sunk so low he couldn’t be happy his team was playing well?

  Yes, the scotch answered. Yes, you have.

  His fucking backup was a kid. A guy called up from the minors. Tyler had met Eric Sandquist a time or two. He was an arrogant little prick with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. But the kid was good. Damn good. And with his own contract up for renewal, damn good meant Tyler had cause for concern if he couldn’t come back to the game at one-hundred percent.

  He glanced at Gabriella, who was deep in conversation with Matt across the room. Gabriella’s brows furrowed, a slight frown tugging at her lips. Arrogance made him want to believe they were discussing his therapy. The alcohol helped him ignore the fact the two had been friends—for years, apparently—and that they most assuredly had things to talk about other than him. Whatever it was, Gabriella didn’t look amused.

  Welcome to the club, baby.

  Tyler didn’t have a Plan B. Baseball was all he’d ever known. He hadn’t even considered the possibility he wouldn’t play until retirement. If he had, he might’ve made different choices. Like his buddy Garrett. Instead of joining the draft three years into college as Tyler had done, Garrett finished his degree before signing with the team.

  Garrett had a promising career with the Empire, a beautiful woman who loved him, a solid future.

  Tyler had a fucked-up shoulder, an expiring contract, and a sudden jealousy for Garrett’s good fortune.

  He drained the scotch from his glass.

  Glancing to where his dad sat less than five feet away, Tyler didn’t have to hear “I told you so.” The smirk aimed his way said it all.

  His dad had been there for every game. Every practice. Every important event in Tyler’s life. His teachers, his coaches, had all seen Charles Brady as a shining example of fatherly support.

  If only they’d seen the truth.

  His father was a self-serving son-of-a-bitch. No matter what Tyler had done, it had never been good enough. Sure, Dad had always been there. But not to be supportive. He just wanted a front row seat if Tyler happened to fail.

  It chapped his ass to give him the satisfaction.

  “So, Tyler.” One of his dad’s friends—John something or other—drew his attention. “I hear you’re out for the season.”

  That’s what the experts were saying.

  Tyler resisted the urge to pop off a smart remark about it being none of his business. Damn his dad. Bastard couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.

  Tyler hadn’t spoken publicly about his injury or his extended visit to Arkansas. His foc
us was on getting back to work, not fielding pain-in-the-ass reporters hell-bent on being the one to gain exclusive information on how he was doing. There was enough speculation to keep them hungry, but it wasn’t his job to feed them. Let the higher-ups and his agent handle the press.

  Guess Dad’s posse was another story.

  “I’m on the DL.” He had less than forty-five days left to get his shit together or the experts would be right. “I’m not out for the season.” He’d see to it.

  John gave him a sympathetic look. “I heard you did quite a number on your shoulder.”

  “You hear a lot.” Too much, apparently.

  “It’s big news around here,” his dad announced. “Local hero injured chasing foul ball in a spring training matchup? Really, son, what were you thinking?”

  He’d thought he should catch the ball, which he did. Wasn’t that the point? “I misjudged how close I was to the wall.” Yeah, that hurt to admit, but it was no less true. His dad had a point, though. He shouldn’t have taken the risk. He knew it then, and he was paying for it now.

  “Gotta give him kudos for style, though. Right, Mr. B.?” Devon laughed beside him. “That catch is still making the rounds on the sports channels.”

  A rare look of pride flashed across his dad’s face and was gone so fast, Tyler almost missed it.

  “Baseball’s a game of reflexes. Quick thinking. No time to think through decisions, right, Tyler?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s right.” His name sounded foreign coming from a man who rarely called him anything but “boy.”

  Charlie nodded and spoke to the other men in the room. “Even as a kid Ty wasn’t much for the long thought process. Went with his gut every time.”

  It was as close to a compliment as he would get—and Tyler would take it. Quick reflexes and instinct were what made him a good ball player.

  And with that, Charlie was done. “So, Devon. How’re your folks? We haven’t heard from them in awhile.”

  After a glance to make sure Gabriella was still occupied with Matt, Tyler quietly excused himself to go to the kitchen, feeling as though he’d just dodged a round of bullets. Devon knew how to handle himself with the old man, so Tyler didn’t have an ounce of guilt for leaving him there to do what Devon did best—charm the whole room.