The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(61)

“He’s fine. Parker’s with him.”

He lifts to sit, and that’s when I notice his bruised cheekbone and busted lip. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Difference of opinion with a bunch of assholes.”

“Can I look at it?” I sit down next to him on the bed and palm his cheek to examine his lip. He pulls out of my grip.

“I’m okay.”

“What happened?”

“I just told you. I got into a fight. It’s fine.”

“Not fine. You just lost a game and got into a brawl. I would say things are pretty shitty at the moment.”

“I’ll deal. Not the end of the world.”

“And what is the end of the world?”

He draws his brows. “What?”

“What’s the end of the world for Troy Jenner?”

He jerks his head back. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes. I would like to know.”

“Any harm coming to my son. Losing another fucking game, not getting drafted, bouncing another goddamned check. Pick a nightmare, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be condescending.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m not in the mood for another lecture. As you can see, I’m busy. You can go.”

“You’re already kicking me out? You haven’t even fucked me yet.” I palm his bed and lean in with a seductive whisper. “Isn’t this where the magic happens?”

His jaw goes slack, and I congratulate myself.

“Ah, a reaction. Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Lady, you drive me crazy. How can I help you?” He stands and tosses his ball on the floor.

I pluck the ball from the carpet and toss it up. “First off, don’t call me lady, I’ve seen your dick, and it makes me feel old. Two, if you’re bouncing checks, Troy, I can go without one for a while until you get on your feet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, cupping his neck. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Last time I checked, we were in this together. I’m okay. I want you to be okay too.”

He exhales heavily. “Clarissa, what’s this all about?”

“Because I’m worried about you. And I don’t like this static going on between us. We started a friendship, and you took it away from me. And I understand why you’re mad, I do, but we were trying to make it work for our son, and it was working. Despite the fact that you’re spinning all these plates and making it look easy, I want you to know I’m aware of how hard you’re working. And to let you know I care.”

His eyes rake over me skeptically. “You care, huh?”

I take a seat on the corner of his bed facing him. “Of course, I do. You have my son’s adoration and my respect for all you’re doing, and we can both tell that you’re having a hard time. Dante used his curse money yesterday to buy you this.” I pull the fishing lure from my jacket pocket and hold it out to him. “He said you like the bright blue ones that look like an octopus. He took great care in picking it out.”

He glances down fondly at the lure in his palm. “He loved fishing. And we didn’t even get a bite.”

“He misses you.”

He sighs and sits next to me on his mattress, cradling the lure in his hands. “I’ll do better.”

“Troy, this isn’t about you doing better. This is about us wanting to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

“What do I need to do?”

“Do? Nothing. Just let us be there for you. Come over. I’ll make you dinner. You can spend time with your son, forget about all these burdens for a few hours and just chill. I don’t want any more hard feelings between us. I want to try and make this work.”

“Everything no longer going just fine?” He smirks.

“Cut the shit. You lavish all this attention, and then you just…”

The air grows thick as he inches in.

“Just what?”

“Take it away.” I swallow at the intensity of his gaze. I can feel the heat coming off his skin.

“Who’s missing my attention, Clarissa?”

“What?”

He kneels down in front of me, tipping my chin and forcing my eyes to his. “Who’s missing my attention?”

I can hear my breaths through my parted lips.

“We both miss having you around. I realize your schedule is hectic…” I reach out and run my finger over his lip, “but we’ve got a seven-foot tree in our house we haven’t decorated yet because he wanted to wait for you.”

Troy closes his eyes. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Troy, stop. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is an invitation.” I stand and offer my hand. “Come over, help him decorate his tree. I’ll make you dinner. We can do this together. Okay? It’s your first Christmas with him, and I don’t want you to miss it. I don’t want you to miss,” I try to swallow my guilt, but my voice shakes anyway, “I don’t want you to miss another one because of me.”

He takes my hand, towering over me, and it’s all I can do to keep from leaning in and inhaling a whiff of his cologne-scented skin. The man is temptation personified. I do my best to look unaffected, but all I want to do is release the string on his sweats. Somewhere between hating him and trying to forgive him, he’s unleashed the dormant hussy that dwells inside of me.