Third Base (The Boys of Summer, #1)(25)

I stand up straight and take her in. Her blonde hair is pulled up, and I’m not talking piled on top of her head. It’s in big curls like my grandma used to wear in her heyday. Daisy’s cheeks are rosy, with her lips painted red. Her black dress sits somewhat off her shoulder and just below her knees and she’s finished off her ensemble with red high heels.

“You look…”

“Like a pin-up model?”

I catch her eyes and immediately look at her lips again. I feel myself getting hard just picturing her red lips wrapped around my cock.

“Fuck me,” I say as I try discreetly to adjust myself. She catches the action, but doesn’t have to say anything because the smirk is enough. She knows she turns me on.

“Daisy, you look f*cking stunning.” This time she knows I’m serious as her cheeks darken. “You’re a classic beauty and I’m so honored to have you on my arm tonight.”

“This old thing,” she says as she brushes her hands down the front of her dress.

“I don’t care if it’s brand new, vintage or what – the fact is, you’re gorgeous and I’m going to have to fight every man as they try to get your attention.”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

I step into her apartment and place my hand on her waist. I bend only slightly, her heels making our height difference less of a challenge, and whisper into her ear. “If it means I get you all to myself, I’m up for anything.” I brush against her dress so she knows what I’m talking about. I don’t miss the sharp intake of air she takes either.

“Who’s at the door, Daisy?”

Daisy steps out of my hold and looks at me quickly before answering. “My friend, Papa. Remember, I told you I was going to dinner.”

“I need to meet him and make sure he’s a respectable young man.”

“Shit,” I mutter as I look down at my semi. I start filtering images though my head of the nastiest things I can while Daisy has my hand in her hers and is pulling me into the other room.

Her living room is decorated like everyone else’s with artwork and pictures on the wall. There’s a television in the corner with a love seat and recliner along the wall. Her grandfather sits in the recliner with his wheelchair next to him. Just by looking at it, I can tell it’s old and probably doesn’t function properly.

“Papa, this is my friend, Ethan. Ethan, this is my grandfather, John.”

I step forward and shake his hand. I have no doubt, that in his prime, he had a firm handshake and I make sure to show him that I do too. It’s a sign of a confident man, according to my father, and I want her grandfather to know that’s what I am.

“It’s great to meet you, sir.”

“I know you,” he says in a thick Boston accent. “You’re behind in homeruns if you think you’re going to be voted in for the derby. Don’t they have you practicing?”

I step back, not entirely shocked that he knows me, but more that he’s hounding me about my percentage. “I’ll work on those at bats, sir.”

“Be good to my Daisy, she’s fragile and the only woman who loves me enough to put up with my cranky ass.”

“I plan to take very good care of her.” When I say the words I’m looking directly at her so she knows I’m serious. She looks away and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. It’s not that I want her to fall at my feet and profess her undying love, but I want her to trust me. It makes me wonder who has hurt her in the past to make her like this.

“Sir, we have to go, but it was very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand again and this time I feel him put a little more strength into it.

“Someday, I’ll see you play live.”

“I’d like that,” I tell him as Daisy motions for me to go to the door.

Daisy says her goodbyes and meets me out front, shutting the door behind her. Right now would be the perfect time to kiss her, but I want to do it after she blows out the candles on her cake tonight.





I may be biased but if that’s the case, I’m okay with having that title. Everywhere I look, men are staring in my direction. I’m a confident man; I know I’m good looking, but they’re not looking at me. No, these f*ckers that I have to play nice with tonight have their eyes focused on Daisy. I don’t blame them. She’s f*cking hot. She’s the hottest woman in the room and everyone knows it.

From the minute we walked in, men have drooled from a distance while the women have flocked to her. You would think that she’s famous or the honoree tonight, but that’s not the case. In fact, the honoree, who will be sitting at our table tonight, has barely even been spoken to. To me, that proves one thing: These women are motivated by their jealousy and only befriending Daisy to keep her away from their husbands, which shouldn’t a problem since she came with me.

Every lady in here looks the same, except for Daisy, with their long gowns and hair piled on top of their heads. She stands out among the drab and tired old looks, and has something that these women could only dream of pulling off. I know this because the lady next to me won’t stop yammering away about how she wishes she could pull off the fifties look.

For the first time in a long time, I’m not the one talking. I’m not the focus of attention. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but am happy to play the supportive role for Daisy, although the constant fashion talk is boring as f*ck.