The Relationship Pact(14)
I sit back in my chair.
In fact, isn’t that the actual point?
I only need him for tomorrow night, and he did say to call him if I … needed him for anything. Maybe I’d enjoy more than one moment with his arms around me.
Or more …
No. Don’t go there, Riss. He’s too gorgeous not to want for more than one night.
I nibble on my lip. He is leaving town. And he’s not on my stay-away-from list. But I don’t even know anything about him.
Which is why you should stay away from him.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say, refusing to look Siggy in the eye.
Siggy shrugs, a knowing grin on her face. “Then don’t ask him. Go alone. But in the meantime, let’s discuss snowflakes or icicles …”
Five
Hollis
Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty.
I hop to my feet and stretch my arms out to the sides. The short burst of adrenaline from the quick workout provides me with both a distraction and a blast of endorphins—two things that I crave.
My body is rested. The wounds from the season are starting to heal. I can bend without groaning, and my shoulder only needs popped back into place every other morning now.
Despite the physical benefits of the season being over, I already hate it. The fact that I’ll never have another season to look forward to is something I try not to think about.
Grabbing a water bottle off the dresser, I walk to the window and yank the curtains apart. The room floods with early afternoon sunlight, and I gaze down the street. Remnants of Christmas hang oddly in the trees and on the lampposts lining the sidewalks. They look as out of place as I feel.
“I’m out of place everywhere. So what does it matter?”
Taking a long drink of water and letting my heartbeat settle, I let my gaze slide up the street until it lands on Paddy’s. A grin tickles my lips.
Larissa.
I’ve never known a Larissa before, but the name somehow fits her. It matches her sweet, kind smile and the vibe she put off that made me want to tease and joke around with her. But it also coincides perfectly with the sexy curve of her hips and the sparkle in her eye that made me want to do nasty, delicious things to her.
I glance over my shoulder. Tapping the beat to the song I was listening to on the side of my leg, I eye the device that holds Larissa’s number.
It took every bit of self-restraint that I had last night not to shoot her a text. I constructed no less than fifteen possible ice-breakers—everything from Hey, it’s Hollis (which felt like a vintage sitcom) to Just checking that you made it home all right (which screamed that, while I might be considerate, I might also be lame because no one leads with that) to Wanna fuck?
That one is self-explanatory.
They all felt legit. They all also felt wrong.
River told me to combine all three texts and hit send. Crew told me to sleep on it. And if there’s one thing I know from lots of past experiences, it’s to go with Crew’s advice. He’s never led me astray. River, though? Found myself naked and covered in strawberry-flavored lube once, thanks to him.
I stretch again and head for the shower. Before I can make it far, my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number. My body tingles, hoping it’s Larissa on the other end—even though I have her number saved under her name, and this isn’t it.
“Hello,” I say, trying my best to sound cool.
It’s a good thing I didn’t lead with a line from last night—any of them—because the voice on the other end is not Larissa.
“Is this Hollis Hudson?” The tone is deep and gritty—decidedly not female.
“Yeah. It is. Who is this?”
“Hey, this is Lincoln Landry. How are you doing?”
Holy shit.
I run a hand over my head and try to ignore how the little boy who watched this guy play in the Majors is freaking out inside me.
Stay calm.
“I’m good,” I say, trying to seem nonchalant about being on the phone with a Hall of Famer. “How are you?”
“Not bad. Thanks for asking. I just wanted to touch base with you and thank you for accepting the Catching-A-Care award.”
I laugh. “What do you mean? Thank you.”
“Apparently, you had my team over here worried you were going to be the first nominee who refused to accept.” He laughs too.
“I …” I stammer as I try to figure out how to explain it and not seem disrespectful or unappreciative. Because I’m neither. “The stuff I do with the kids got exploited my freshman year of college. The school newspaper did a piece on it thanks to a girl I was …”
I gulp. Choose a word, Hollis—one that doesn’t make you sound like a dick.
“Involved with,” I say, finishing the sentence.
“So you were sleeping with her?” he jokes.
“Basically, even though there wasn’t much actual sleeping.”
“Ah, the best kind.” Lincoln chuckles. “I get it. Been there, done dumb shit too. Lots of it. It’s too easy to get in trouble when you’re great looking and full of talent.”
“You feel me then.”
“Hell, yeah.”
I grin. “Well, in that case, I was worried that your offer wasn’t real. That the call was a scam. Besides the campus paper, I’ve managed to keep most of my shit on the down low, so I wasn’t sure. There’s a girl who threatened to ruin my life a while back, and … you can’t trust anyone, you know?”