Throwing Heat dad-3 Page 13

  “You do, too,” she said and rocked forward a bit onto the balls of her feet like a boxer preparing for an attack, fisting her hands at her side.

  While she stood there he flicked a cold gaze toward her and then dropped his towel, going full nude once again in front of her. This time she kept her eyes up. Right where they wouldn’t get her into trouble.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, princess. It’s been a real shitty day. I’m tired and my shoulder’s hurting like hell, so I’m not really in the mood to play mind games.” The muscles in his back flexed as he bent over to pull on a pair of boxers. As soon as she heard the band on them snap into place her gaze plummeted until she was staring at the front buttons on his blue plaid boxers. And as she stared those buttons started to move, his erection growing with every heartbeat her gaze was locked on it.

  Shaking her head none too gently, Leslie forced her gaze back up and replied flatly, “I want an explanation for that night in Miami. It’s time you came clean with me about what happened. Because I don’t get it and I’m tired of wondering.”

  Peter shrugged his broad shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed, the front slit of his boxers gaping a little. She pretended not to notice. “What’s there to get?”

  Oh, like he didn’t know. Was he going to make her spell it out for him? Why? It was already humiliating enough.

  “Why you got all heavy with me and then you dropped me dead like a hot potato.” She thought about it for a second and then added, getting worked up all over again, “And why in the hell you want another go at me when you clearly don’t even want to have sex with me!” At this point it wasn’t just a matter of pride, her self-confidence was at stake too.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you? Is that what you think?” He gestured to his lap where his hard-on was obvious. “What’s this about, then? The breeze?”

  Frustration and self-doubt mixed together, making her shaky, and she raked her hands through her hair, fisting them there. “I don’t know! You tell me, Peter. What is it about?” She dropped her hands and leveled him with a hard stare. “Do you, or don’t you want me?”

  It was time for an honest answer from the king of bullshitters. Whatever the answer, no matter how much it hurt, Leslie needed the truth. The not knowing had eaten at her for far too long.

  Peter let out a long-suffering sigh and stared her down, eyes guarded and sulky. Then something flickered in them and he broke eye contact. He seemed to deflate, the fight going out of him in one breath. “I want you,” he finally admitted begrudgingly, his voice hoarse and more than a little tired.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes and a sudden lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. “Why?” she whispered raggedly. “Why then didn’t you want to have sex with me?” Her hands waffled helplessly. “Why didn’t you want me?”

  He scrubbed both hands over his face, suddenly looking exhausted, and turned to her, his eyes bleak. “Because I choked, Leslie. I fucking choked, okay?”

  “No.”

  Peter frowned hotly. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

  Leslie crossed her arms again, scowled right back. “I mean that I don’t accept your explanation. Not anymore.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “And why exactly is that?”

  The anger she’d held at bay for three years over his rejection came flooding out. “Because it’s all horseshit, Peter!” Her heart began pounding furiously. “You saying that you choked is a complete cop-out.”

  His black brows slashed dangerously low over his eyes. “It’s not a cop-out.”

  She uncrossed her arms and planted her hands on her hips, her gaze locked on him. “Oh, really? Then just what the hell do you call it then?”

  He gave her a level look. “The truth.”

  God he was frustrating! “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  He knew damn good and well what. “Stop evading! I deserve your honesty, Peter. Yeah, okay, you choked. Whatever.” She waved a hand before pointing her index finger at her chest. “I want to know why, and I’m not leaving your bedroom until you tell me.”

  Abruptly he stood up and paced across the room. Once he reached the door to his bathroom he spun on her, his eyes filled with anguish, and shouted, “Because you acted like I meant something!”

  Leslie reeled back. “Excuse me?”

  Peter raked his hands through his hair. “You told me I was amazing.”

  “Yeah, so?” She’d said the same thing to him at the bar an hour ago.

  Wait.

  “Is that why you left me at the club tonight?” She was trying hard to understand. What was wrong with someone thinking he was wonderful?

  “Yeah.”

  She huffed, confused. “But why?”

  Something indefinable flashed in his eyes, but it looked a whole lot like pain and it made her heart squeeze. “Because I’m a lot of things, princess, but amazing isn’t one of them. It would be in your best interest to accept that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  DAYS PASSED BY in a blur while Leslie prepared for the Halloween party, dealt with the police about Seth, and generally did her best to avoid Peter. Her apartment still wasn’t ready, so she was spending a lot of quality time in her office making nice with her purple couch. It was better than being at Peter’s place.

  Now, stepping out into Peter’s garage with her hands full, she thought about how they’d barely spoken since the night she’d made him come clean about Miami. Neither of them was in any particular hurry to broach the topic again, and she wasn’t willing to risk something physical happening, so they steered clear of each other. It helped a lot that Peter was away with the team while they won the League Championships and moved on to the World Series.

  Everyone was super stoked. And she could feel the excitement, shared it even. It would be absolutely wonderful if the Rush took the Fall Classic. They were doing great so it was a real possibility.

  Peter’s arm was recovering well and with a little luck he might even be able to play in the World Series before it was over after all. Which she thought was great and wanted to tell him, but after the way they’d parted company, she wasn’t really sure what to say.

  Everything she’d thought about that night in Miami was bogus. Peter hadn’t lost interest. Knowing that had all kinds of complicated emotions coursing through her.

  It changed everything.

  For the past three years she’d felt so much self-doubt around the pitcher. Her confidence had suffered, her belief in her sexual appeal had been bruised and battered. That night had so much more of an impact on how she felt about herself than she wanted to admit.

  And now that she knew the truth, she felt free.

  Irritated that one man’s confession meant so damn much, but still free. Lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Sure there was that whole having-to-deal-with-him-now thing, but she’d get around to it when she was good and ready.

  Right now her favorite holiday was just around the corner, and that meant she was only days away from reclaiming her life. There was no way she was going to cave and sleep with Peter with the end of the bet so close. No way, no how. She already had a spreadsheet on her computer full of contacts and ideas on how to promote the crap out of the Rush’s all-star pitcher playing at Hotbox. She could see exactly how to promote it, the angle to use and the people to utilize.

  It was going to be spectacular.

  If she’d had the idea of jumping him like a trampoline the day after the bet ended, well that was her secret. So was the fact that thoughts of whatif had drifted across her mind once or twice, or maybe a dozen times.

  Her phone rang and she snatched it up, answering as she climbed into her Mini. She set the gift bag she was carrying on the passenger seat and said into the speaker, “Leslie Cutter.”

  “Hey, sis. Lorelei wanted me to call and double-check that you had the correct directions to our place. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that she mi
ght have written it down wrong for you.” Her brother sounded happy and that made her heart smile. He and Lorelei were having a housewarming party to celebrate their new home.

  “I think I remember how to get there on my own, actually. Lorelei took me there a few weeks ago right after y’all had closed on it, remember? But here, hold on a minute and I’ll read them off to you.” Leslie rifled through her oversized hobo purse and found the scrap of paper the directions were scribbled on.

  She relayed the directions quickly and Mark replied, “You got it!”

  Well, sure. Women actually knew how to copy down directions. They didn’t just set off into the great unknown hell-bent on figuring it out for themselves using the sun and a piece of string as guides.

  One time back in high school, she and Mark had wound up lost and out of gas in Florida’s backwoods in their dad’s old Buick. All because Mark had insisted that he knew the way to Tammy Lynette’s pig farm where there was a kegger waiting and had refused to stop and ask for directions when all the gravel roads had started to look the same.

  They slept in the Buick that night and woke the next morning to the greeting of a six-foot snake on the hood of their car and had two very irate parents when they got home.

  Leslie shook her head, amused now at the memory. “I’m just leaving Peter’s place, so I should be there in forty-five minutes or so.”

  Mark grunted. It was his non-verbal form of gotcha. “See you soon.”

  She started the car and pulled on her seatbelt. “Yeah.”

  About to hang up, she stopped when Mark asked, “So how is Peter treating you since you’ve been staying at his place?”

  Um . . . “He’s been great.”

  Mark’s voice took on a tone that meant he didn’t believe her. “What’s going on? Is he giving you a hard time?”

  She snorted. She couldn’t help it. Hard time.

  Leslie wished he was giving her a hard time. After she won the bet. “No, he’s been great.”

  Her brother seemed to relax and his voice became less sharp. “Okay. Let me know if he steps out of line though, you hear?”

  “I’m a grown woman. I can handle my own life.” Her conscience nipped at her, pointing out that given her current situation it wasn’t so apparent that she could handle it. And then it said that she was only in her current situation because her life had been soundly ruined in the first place. She wanted to smack her stupid conscience for reminding her.

  He must have heard the mounting tension in her voice because he replied, “I know. It’s just that I know Pete too.”

  “I hear you. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.” It felt good to know that somebody cared.

  She and Mark talked for another minute as she backed out of the garage and pulled onto the road. Then they hung up and she was left with a quiet, cozy car and the open road. For the next half hour she cruised out of Denver and then hopped on Highway 287, which would take her the rest of the way to Lafayette, where Mark and Lorelei now resided.

  Just north of the town, tons of open land sprawled, with the Rockies standing sentry to the West. It was beautiful, all the gently rolling hills. She could see why they’d fallen in love with the location. So much breathing room.

  Coming to her turnoff, Leslie slowed her Mini and whipped around the turn, grinning. Her baby cornered like a golf cart. Slinging it around corners was just so much fun.

  Slowing as another smaller, tighter turn appeared before her, Leslie scanned the directions again very briefly and took the hard left. Alpine Road. She’d found it. Downshifting, she took that corner at a conservative speed and smiled happily as she passed a pasture full of horses.

  Leslie turned down the gravel road to her brother’s new place, enjoying the way the house came into view through the trees, their bold autumn colors framing the huge farmhouse beautifully. About twenty or so cars were already parked here and there, most just pulled off into the grass by the side of the drive. Scanning the vehicles, Leslie released a tense breath, unaware that she’d even been holding it.

  There was no yellow FJ Cruiser.

  Trying to ignore the relief that coursed through her, because if she acknowledged it, it would mean that there was something she had been stressing about, Leslie found a place to park in front of a big, old-fashioned red barn. She grinned and felt warm fuzzies fill her when a small, fluffy, white-and-gray kitten waddled out of the cracked-open door and meowed at her. Instantly in love, she climbed out and grabbed the gift bag, eyes locked on the furry little heart-stealer.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?” she crooned and crouched down, crooking her finger at the kitten.

  The fat little thing let out a tiny cry and hurried over to her, obviously a little lonely and in need of some affection. “You’ve found the right girl,” she said and ran a finger down the kitten’s downy-soft head.

  She was so completely, hopelessly infatuated with her new acquaintance that she didn’t hear the door to the barn creak open. She was lost in the feel of the kitten’s soft, round belly as she gave it a good rub, so she jumped when a boy’s voice cut through her bubble of love. “Isn’t she the most adorable kitten ever in the whole entire world?”

  It was Charlie, in a gray hoodie and jeans.

  “I saw that somebody had put out a ton of food for them. There’s two more inside, but they’re still scared and hiding behind the hay bales.” Sweet, blue eyes turned to her and Charlie bent his head to the side and asked, “Do you want one of them? Lorelei said that I could have one if Mom agrees, and I bet she’d give you one too if you want.”

  “No thanks,” she said instantly. When would she have time to take care of a kitten? Her life was so busy as it was. “Oh don’t you look at me like that, missy,” she chided down at the kitten, feeling guilty. What was the use?

  She was such a sucker. Little miss was going home with her. The decision made, Leslie gently set the kitten on the ground and stood up. Then she grabbed the gift bag full of baking goodies for Lorelei and said, “Let’s leave them for now and we’ll come back later. How’s that sound, Charlie?”

  The boy gave her a sunny smile and nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

  It was the story of her life.

  Charlie put his kitten down on the ground next to hers and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. “Wanna go inside?” he asked, his gaze turning to the big blue-gray two-story house with the wraparound porch.

  She tossed her arm over his shoulders and replied, “Sure, kid. Let’s go see if there’s anything good to eat.” Mark had promised to grill up a couple tri-tips and she had a hankering.

  He grinned up at her happily. “My mom made her homemade apple pie. It’s world famous.”

  Leslie felt her stomach growl and said, “Sounds awesome.”

  They had just stepped across the gravel drive to the huge expanse of front lawn when the sound of a vehicle grabbed their attention. They turned around together to look, her arm still slung over the kids’ shoulder and her smile froze on her lips.

  Coming down the drive, making its way toward them, was a bright yellow FJ Cruiser. Fantastic. Awesome.

  Crap.

  Peter had arrived.

  Chapter Sixteen

  PETER STEERED HIS SUV around the bend, enjoying the view until he spotted Leslie on the front lawn. Then his smile of appreciation turned into a frown and his good mood immediately plummeted. Now that he knew that she knew the whole sordid truth, he’d avoided her to the best of his ability, bet be damned.

  Humiliation, embarrassment, a slap to his manhood—call it whatever, he didn’t care. He felt unmanned. Like he’d plucked off his balls and just handed them to her with a big dumb frigging smile on his face. Here you go, sweets. Why don’t you just keep those for a while? I don’t need ’em.

  What kind of dumb-shit guy couldn’t do the nasty when he had the hottest woman on the planet naked and begging for it underneath him? It still grated. After all these years it
grated every frigging bit as much as it did the night the whole damn thing had happened.

  She was his fantasy. He just didn’t get it. It should have gone down in the record books as the best night of his life, not the most degrading.

  Peter climbed out of his Cruiser just in time to see Leslie turn with Charlie and walk up the front steps into the house. Which was just fine with him. He’d rather not have to talk to her until he’d regained some shred of masculinity back.

  Carl Brexler and José Caldera came around the side of the house just then carrying a Wiffle bat and ball. When they spotted Peter, Carl hollered, “Hey, Walskie. You up for a game of Wiffle ball? Mark’s got a diamond set up out back and a bunch of us are playing.”

  Sounded fun, like a great way to keep up this whole avoidingLeslie thing he had going.

  “I’m in. Just let me take this inside.” He held up the bamboo plant he was carrying. He’d brought it for the new homeowners because it was supposed to bring good luck. “Who’s manning the grill today?”

  Usually get-togethers like this happened at his place, and he got to put on his chef’s hat and play grill-master. It was kind of his thing. The last two soirees had been way memorable though, and not in the best way. There’d been more drama than a Greek play. He’d been thinking that he should maybe lay off the party-hosting for a while, so this was great.

  But it was a bummer about the steaks. Considering that grilling meat over an open flame while he nursed a brewskie was the only thing he could do in the kitchen realm with any measure of success, he tended to take his duties seriously. He had the apron and everything to prove it. If it happened to have a crude slogan about cooking his meat on it with a highly inappropriate image, so what? He was the master.

  Climbing the wraparound porch, Peter opened the door and stepped inside. Players and their families milled about the spacious, traditional farmhouse with moving boxes piled high in the corners. He stopped in the entryway, took off his coat, and hung it on the coat rack.

  Mark walked by just then from the half-unpacked living room, carrying a baseball mitt in his hand, and grinned when he spotted Peter. “Welcome to my new pad, man. Give me a few minutes and I’ll take you on the official tour. Paulson is whining about his hands like a girl so I’m gonna run this out to him. I’ll be right back.” He took two steps and stopped, glanced back over his shoulder at Peter. “You brought your Gibson right?”