Chapter Six Alex
T HE R IDERS WON the third game, four to one.
Despite Rome’s absence at bat, I still found myself swirling with the excitement of the crowd.
I earnestly wanted the Riders to win, and not just a wanton desire so I could boast. Joe was there again and continued to help me understand the game better.
I got more out of the game this time around and asked fewer questions.
I received a text from Rome not too long after the game ended.
I curiously watched the sports network and timed out how long it took them to interview those they needed to (Rome was included) and the gap between the interview and his text.
He asked me where I had parked and said he’d meet me by my car and I could follow him back to his place.
I said my goodbye to Joe and hopped into my car.
I would’ve waited outside it, but the blacktop from today’s scorching heat radiated the air.
There was no way in hell I was standing in the heat like that.
A black Mercedes G-Class glided up beside my car, the windows tinted beyond the legal limit, I had no doubt.
The black mirror of the driver’s side glass rolled down to reveal a handsome man with damp hair.
I rolled my own window down. “Well, well, if it isn’t Number Sixteen of the New England Riders,” I said as cool and casual as I could.
“And by golly, here is Alex Edwards of Alex Edwards Photography. Just a couple of celebs hangin’ out in the parking lot.” He double-raised his brow and grinned. “Ready to head over?”
“Lead the way.”
Just as I suspected, Rome primarily obeyed the speed limit and took liberty where socially acceptable—the usual forty in a thirty-five, or fifty in a forty-five.
We reached the gate to Hiroshi’s estate in just under fifteen minutes.
The time on my car clock hit fifteen ’til midnight when I put her in Park behind Rome’s car.
We got out at the same time. Rome wore workout shorts, a loose t-shirt, and slides.
His hair was damp and in that state of loose curls that I had come to like.
Inside, he kicked off his sandals and I followed suit by toeing off my loafers. He grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and handed me one. “Hungry?” he asked.
“At midnight?”
He had pulled a leftover container from the fridge. “Last meal of the day. Is it okay if I eat in front of you?”
I pressed a polite smile on my face. He was so courteous. “Of course it is.”
He nodded and fished for utensils out of a drawer. He shot me a few awkward looks as he sat down at the kitchen island, then made quick work of whispering something I didn’t hear and crossing himself.
Very Italian. Very Catholic? I hadn’t pried about that. Yet.
I sat opposite him and took a swig from the water bottle. “All right. Can I say something?”
A forkful of rice was halfway to his mouth when he stopped. “Yes…?”
I blinked. Shook my head slightly. “I don’t even know where to start.
Rome.” I leaned into the island and braced my hands against the counter’s edge.
“You are amazing .” I licked my lips, then leaned back.
His fork still hovered. “Seriously. I am completely enamored with how good you are at this game. You’re just incredible .
I don’t know how else to describe it. I see it now.
I’ve done some video hunting and article searching.
Trying not to be a creeper. But your ability is one in a million. ”
He lowered the fork. The corners of his lips grew steadily upward, mouth partially open.
I got off the stool and stood. “I gotta say. The first game the other night? The bottom of the fourth? Holy shit that home run that scored three ? I mean, come on. I was hooked. I am hooked. You’re right. You were so right. It was important for me to watch you play and I get it now .”
A look settled on his face, one I couldn’t quite decipher. The smile had faded to a shy grin, but his brow curled upward, eyes almost misty. Satisfaction?
“Thank you, Alex. That means a lot.”
I sat back down. “Just incredible. You deserve all those awards in your office and so much more.” I slapped the countertop. “And your sportsmanship? Athletes can be such tools. But you? No ego. It’s so refreshing.”
He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. You’re going to make me have an ego if you keep feeding me these compliments.”
A challenge? Accepted. I counted off on my hand, “You’re fast. Wicked fast. Strong. Your reflexes are—”
“Alex,” he said through a laugh. “I mean it. Don’t inflate my head. I won’t be able to sleep tonight because all I’ll think about are your compliments.”
I crossed my arms on the counter and leaned into them. “Good. Because I’ve been losing sleep thinking about you, too.” I looked down after saying that.
Too much. Too fast. Take a breath and take it slow .
I should have controlled my outburst. Over-complimenting did a disservice to both him and me.
I watched as he piled in the rest of his food, chugged an entire bottle of water, then grabbed another from the fridge.
He seemed to have shaken off whatever I said, that or he was the king at compartmentalizing.
He swung around the island and gently pulled at my arm. “Come on, let’s play some games.”
More confident in our situation, I sat on the cushion next to the corner of his sectional as he procured the game controllers.
He hesitated when he turned back around and saw me sitting so close to where he would be.
He circled around the ottoman and crashed down into the corner seat.
Our sides touched. His feet went up on the ottoman, but I had to lean forward in order to concentrate.
I noticed he only selected one player. “Okay. Here’s the deal, Toad. You need to learn how to play if I’m going to have some competition. This game has changed since whenever you last played it.”
“Oh-ho. All right. What do I do?”
“You need to learn to drift .”
He cued up the game and the countdown started.
As three, two, one flashed on the screen, Rome sat up and pulled his feet from the ottoman.
I jumped in place as I felt his hand go around my body, his arm on my back.
The fingers from both his hands went over mine as he held my controller and my hands.
I looked down, startled for a moment. His hands were massive . Baseball mitts, really.
“Like this,” he said softly into my ear. His fingers moved mine and Toad blasted forward on the track.
I swallowed hard and threw the entirety of my concentration into watching that little cartoon character zip around the racecourse.
Every neuron in my body became hyperaware that Rome sat close enough for me to smell him, to feel the thick musculature of his body in the thin clothing he wore.
Those long fingers of his guiding mine. I could only imagine what they would feel like tracing baseball diamonds on my body.
“Getting the hang of it?”
Getting the hang of something , I thought. “Oh, for sure. Totally.”
He snickered, the breath leaving his nose and tickling my ear. I felt the hair on the nape of my neck go up.
“I think you might be fibbing there, sir.”
I hit the pause button and gently extracted my hands from under his and spun to look at him.
Look up at him, sitting this close.
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done? How about I watch you drift your way to victory and you can give me pointers?”
He nodded with a grin. Oh, he liked that idea. “All right, all right. You think I have sweet baseball skills? Just wait until you see me race Rainbow Road.”
Rome sat back on the couch, his legs going up along the other side of the sectional.
I saw an opportunity and took it. I slinked closer to him, nestled myself right up against that six-foot-six frame of his and squeezed to make room along the couch cushion for all of our legs. He cleared his throat. Licked his lips.
I realized that might have been too much for him.
Low body count. Too much physical touch .
I watched him pull a blanket down from the back of the couch and cover our lower halves. I knew damn well that the A/C was at a perfect level and that there was only one reason he would want to conceal below the waist like that.
You’re a thirty-year-old who can make a professional athlete pop an awkward boner without kissing , I told myself. Take the win, Alex.
“This okay?” I asked.
“Close, but not quite.” He got the Rainbow Road level ready, then wrapped an arm around me so that I sank into him. His arm was long enough to encapsulate me and reach for the controller nestled on our laps. “Much better.”
I dropped my head back into his shoulder. I would need the blanket too if I let my thoughts wander too far. “Okay. Show me how it’s done.”
?
I awakened to the sound of electric, upbeat music, presumably from the video game load screen.
Neon green, cherry red, and electric yellow lights washed out the room in a strobing rhythm as if I had been sitting at a traffic stop.
One of my eyes parted open, the other buried against the steady rise and fall of a hard chest. I smelled masculine soap, something that vaguely reminded me of a locker room at the local gym.
My arm lay stretched out across the chest on which I laid, the other arm tucked against mine and the other body.
The flashing lights from the television screen reflected off of something shiny—a crucifix and a small, oval medallion, each on their own golden chain.
I didn’t recognize the symbol in the oval. A saint?
My mind collected itself as factoids from my senses made me aware of where I was. Rome’s house. Rome’s video games. Rome’s scent. Rome’s necklaces. Which meant…
I had fallen asleep while he played his games and made myself as comfortable as I could. Even my leg had partially lifted to wedge my knee between his. My muscles held no tension, my breathing deep and regular, and a haze of content put my mind at ease.