“Can you find a job with more traditional hours?” asked Chip. “Would that help?”
“Maybe. But I can’t fucking sit behind a desk. And I like what I do and who I work with. I have decent benefits. I like having three days in a row off.” I shrugged. “I sometimes think about doing something on the side for a little extra, but I’m not sure what.”
“You should talk to Tyler,” Chip said. “He’s got that sports complex and I’m sure he could use you as a trainer. You’d be good at that. You know how many guys would love to be trained by a fucking Navy SEAL?”
“The problem is my schedule. It’s never the same week to week.”
“He’d work with you.” Chip was confident. “You should get in touch.”
“You guys should do something together,” suggested Mariah.
“You’re moving back?” I asked in surprise.
“We’re thinking about it.” He looked at his fiancée. “With her family and mine up here, we don’t really have a reason to stay in Chicago.”
“That would be cool,” I said. “We could round up Fitz and Jimmy, get the team back together.”
Chip laughed. “That would be something.”
“Oh my God, you guys should!” Mariah exclaimed. “My dad and his friends played in this senior men’s league while I was growing up—in fact, they’re still playing—and going to the games was so much fun.”
“Uh, I think some people might complain if we had a retired MLB pitcher in a senior men’s league,” I said.
“I’ll take a little something off my fastball,” joked Chip. “I’ll keep my eyes closed. We’ll put a fake name on my jersey.”
“You’d still strike out every jackass at the plate. We’d be disqualified before the inning was up.”
He grinned, looking eighteen again. “Be a hell of an inning though. Then we’d go for beers.”
“Fuck yeah,” I said. “Count me in.”
Eight
Winnie
Sunday morning, I woke up around nine, which was later than usual—probably because I’d lain awake half the night thinking about that kiss.
That kiss.
Rolling onto my side, I hugged a body pillow close to me, arms and legs wrapped around it. If I closed my eyes and held my breath, I could transport myself right back to that electric moment when we’d both stood up at the same time, as if it had been choreographed by divine intervention.
Neither of us had moved. Time stopped ticking. My heart hung suspended in my chest, poised to fall.
And then—and then—he’d taken me by the shoulders and crushed that mouth to mine, the one I’d been thinking about all day. Usually, his jaw was all clenched and tight, but suddenly his lips were open, his tongue was on mine, his scruff brushing against my skin.
I’d felt that kiss right down to my toes.
Then all of a sudden, it was over. And he was gone.
Moaning, I rolled onto my back and burrowed under the sheet again. Kissing me had obviously been an impulsive move on his part, and judging by the apology that immediately followed, one he felt bad about.
But there was no reason he should regret it. And I hoped he didn’t think I was mad about it . . . I’d enjoyed every second of that kiss.
That kiss.
But still, it was probably best if it never happened again.
Not only because it could make for an awkward situation having to live next door to each other, but because I knew myself—I could easily start to crave the way he’d made my heart pound, the way he’d given me butterflies, the way he’d stolen that kiss from me like he knew he couldn’t afford it but he had to have it anyway.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, the swoony feeling came over me again, and I let the hum reverberate throughout my body. I pictured him, and heat began to pool at my center. The eyes. The mouth. The shoulders. The chest. The arms. Those hands that gripped my ass and moved me like he owned me.
I let my imagination travel down his body to places I hadn’t seen . . . rippling abs. A deep, sexy V line. A big, hard cock. His weight between my legs.
My hand moved down my chest, slipping into my underwear, my fingers easing between my thighs.
Then I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. “No, no, no. I’m not going there. It was one kiss, it happened, it’s done. I’m not allowed to obsess over it. I am the boss of my feelings.”
But I wasn’t feeling particularly bossy there in bed, so I got up, used the bathroom, and threw some workout clothes on. Grabbing my yoga mat from my closet, I went downstairs and spread it out in the living room. Normally, I didn’t do anything without having a cup of coffee in the morning, but this seemed like an emergency situation—I needed to distract my mind and body with something more physical, channel the pent-up energy into something more productive than getting myself off.