America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(9)

His girlfriend is frowning at me again, but I ignore her, because Greene hits a single that advances Ramirez to third.

“Sarah!” Mackenzie shrieks as the camera pans to Cooper Rock stepping up to bat. “BATHROOM!”

“Thanks for stopping by,” I say to the underwear ape. “Seriously. We’re cool. Go away.”

I’ve never been so grateful for Mackenzie’s undying belief that me going to the bathroom is good luck for the Fireballs.

Because by the time Cooper Rock is done at bat, Beck Ryder and his sexy body and bright blue eyes and delicious smell will be gone, and my life will be on its way back to being normal.





Five





Beck



As soon as Sarah disappears around the corner, I glance at Charlie next to the weird leafy plant thing. She’s being uncharacteristically silent through all of this, which means she’s either decided there’s no use in trying to stop me, or she’s getting an idea.

She’s half the brains behind most of my operations—okay, probably like seven eighths, really, which is why I pay her so much—and we’ve worked together so long that I can usually read her, but today, I’m clueless.

Obviously.

It’s been a long time since I’ve reached out to a person in the hopes of just apologizing only to be told to go away.

Most people want my money.

Or a shot at some residual fame.

Or there was that one time I was asked if I could baptize a rabbit, but I try not to think about that.

But Sarah just wants me to go away.

It’s odd.

Charlie wanted to dial in the PR team before coming over, but for once, I overruled her, because this isn’t supposed to be a PR stunt.

I just wanted to apologize. The right way.

I look at the blonde—Mackenzie, I think Sarah said her name was. “Ah, thanks for the hospi—”

“Bathroom,” she hisses at me. “Go on. You too. And she really really really wants to save the giraffes, so go grab this last chance by the balls.”

I knew about the giraffes. Charlie did a breakdown of @must_love_bees’s tweets and blogs after my groveling phone call to Vaughn, and it’s pretty obvious that I’m lucky I didn’t get my ass stung off too after she tasered me, and also that I probably should’ve shown up with a giraffe named in Sarah’s honor if I wanted her to accept my apology.

Not that she has to accept it.

It’s just weird how quickly she’s dismissing me.

Not because I’m as awesome as I let my family think I am, but because I’m rich and famous.

Kidding, I swear. Fuck.

No wonder I got myself in trouble on Twitter.

“Go on,” Mackenzie shrieks.

I leap up and head around the corner that Sarah disappeared to, planning to just hang in the hallway out of sight and leave her alone, except the bathroom door is right there on the other side of the wall, and it’s open and Sarah’s inside lounging with her hip propped against the sink, head down over her phone, and there’s no way to avoid the fact that her entire body tenses while her eyes slowly lift to watch me.

Her eyes are so dark. Like I can’t tell where her pupils are in the middle of all that dark chocolate, and it makes me want to look closer. Or just fall in. Swim there for a while. Work on my backstroke. Or any stroke.

Fuck, I’m getting tight in the jeans.

Her jersey is so baggy, it’s hiding her body almost all the way down to her knees, and there’s something oddly familiar about her.

Or possibly that’s a lingering side effect from the taser.

“Mackenzie sent me,” I say, holding my hands up like I’m harmless, just in case she has another weapon. “For luck.”

I think.

She heaves a sigh that makes her breasts lift, and I get a familiar stirring down in the family jewels.

Convenient.

Not.

She’s not wearing makeup, and I know at least a hundred women who would kill to have her eyelashes.

Or at least wrestle in Jell-O for them.

Most of my acquaintances aren’t actually lethal. Learned a long time ago how to avoid those types out in Hollywood.

“I thought I was sending my sister a private message,” I say into the silence, because it’s getting awkward, and I don’t like silence.

I like to talk.

Or be talked at.

I’m not really picky. So long as it’s not silence.

“I’m sure she appreciated your concern for her loins,” Sarah replies dryly.

“She just got engaged to my best friend. I’d tell him the same.”

“Lucky guy.”

“Yeah, Wyatt hit the lottery when he moved in next to—wait. You don’t mean he’s lucky because he’s my best friend, do you?” I give her the kidding smile.

She doesn’t smile back, but she doesn’t roll her eyes either. Just watches me like I’m a science experiment she stumbled onto without knowing what she’s supposed to be testing.

“OH MY GOD HE HIT A HOME RUN!”

I jump at Mackenzie’s shriek. Sarah hits a button on her phone, and the sound of a toilet flushing fills the air. “It worked?” she calls.

“SARAH! HE HIT A HOME RUN!”

“You have an app that plays flushing toilets?” I ask her.