Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(49)

He waited for the questions she would ask. Who’s Emma? Is she your sister? Lover? Wife? Are you and Emma plotting world domination?

But she stayed silent. So silent, he had to check once at a stoplight to make sure she was still breathing. But she just stared ahead, a neutral look over her face, as if no thoughts at all passed through her mind.

“What?” he finally snapped. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“What, what?” she asked, confused.

“Not gonna ask who that was?”

“I assumed it was private.” She shifted in her seat but kept her eyes facing forward. “Besides, it’s your day to interview me. Maybe I’m saving it for tomorrow. Fair play and all that.”

Yeah, right. He drove in silence until they reached her apartment. His jaw clenched at the reminder of the shitty neighborhood and unsecured complex she probably paid too much to live in. In his opinion, five dollars was too much for this place. Hands tight around the wheel, he pulled into a parking space outside her building.

“Thanks for the lift. Sorry I showed up on your day and forced you to drive me home. Habit, I guess.” She gathered her bag from the floorboard and reached for the door. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“You didn’t force me. Just stop taking taxis places, okay? It’s pissing me off.”

She arched a brow. “Right. I’ll just start using magic again to get around. Why didn’t I think of that this morning?”

Before she could leave the car, he hauled her forward and kissed her. There was no stopping him. He had to taste that sarcastic, smart-ass mouth of hers. When she relented immediately, fingers diving through his hair and pulling him tighter against her, he was sunk. Her mouth moved under his, lips parting easily for his tongue. She sighed, and he felt it down to his toes. He couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to.

And he didn’t want to.

His phone rang again, the sound surrounding them in the car. Though the ring was like a bomb to his mind, immediately explosive, he pulled away slowly. He wasn’t some horny teen caught necking in the car and feeling guilty about it. Damn it, he was an adult. And if he wanted to make out in his own car, he’d do it.

Aileen pulled away as slowly as he did, her fingers brushing down his jaw before landing in her lap. She was breathing as heavily as he was, and he worried for half a second she might pass out. Breathing heavily hadn’t worked out for her too well the last few times she’d struggled with it. But she stayed steady and tilted her head toward his dash. “Better answer it. Emma’s not taking ignore for an answer.”

He swore, then hit the ignore button again anyway. He’d call her back when he was damn good and ready. If it were actually an emergency, she’d have blown up his phone with text messages anyway, so now she was just being a pain in the ass on purpose, with no good reason.

Woman’s prerogative, right?

“Can you get up there yourself?” It was rude and against everything he believed in, but Killian had no doubt if he followed her up to her apartment, he’d go in, and they’d have sex, and he’d feel guilty about that later. He was already suffering from an erection that would be all too obvious in his sweatpants walking up the stairs.

“I usually do. I’ll show up tomorrow, and have my day of bugging you.” She slid from the car, and he gripped the steering wheel with a choke hold to resist following her up. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Wait.” She paused in closing the door to look at him. “Don’t you have bowling tonight?”

Surprise lit her face, then a tentative smile. “I do . . . why?”

“I’m supposed to be following you. So, I’ll see you there.”

She blinked. “See me . . . at the bowling alley? For league? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why not?” He’d done it once before. Why did she think it was so odd this time?

She thought about it, then lifted one shoulder. “Okay. If you want to. But don’t feel like you have to. I know it’s boring as all hell for people who aren’t playing to just watch.”

He started to argue, then thought, Why make her job any easier? “Whatever. See you later, Freckles.”

She closed the door without saying a good-bye, and he grinned at that. With her bag slung across her body, she walked toward the outer stairs of her apartment building. With each step up, the canvas of her sack bounced against her delicious little ass.

He waited until he saw the top of her door open and close—though he couldn’t see her from the angle he was parked in—and pulled away. With a deep breath, he called Emma back using the hands-free system.

“Fuck you,” she answered on the first ring.

“Good thing I’m not a prospective buyer,” he responded.

“You sent me to voicemail. Twice.” Her tone was low, and he knew she’d stepped into another room to avoid Charlie hearing. Whatever their problems or disagreements, she was good about keeping them from their son. “He misses you, and he lost a chance to see you. Now you’re sending his—our—calls to voicemail? What the hell, Killian?”

“Practice ran late, then we had a team meeting. I wasn’t even home when you called. Still driving there now, actually. I have my own life, Emma. Jesus, you know I’m not about to just ignore Charlie on purpose. I have things going on.” One freckled reporter drifted through his mind. He could still smell her clean, fresh scent. If he placed his hand over the passenger seat, it’d still be warm. “Stuff’s piling up. You know my life gets more hectic toward the end of the season. I called back as soon as I could.”