Chapter 5
Chloe: So, this woman on the TV. Are we talking hot weather girl, or Scarlett Johansson?
Zeke: I gave you my number for work purposes.
Chloe: Sure, sure. Just need to know who I need to track down and kill. Professionally speaking.
Zeke: Considering going back to your old axe murderer ways?
Chloe: Mirror mirror on the wall, I SHALL be the prettiest of them all. Professionally speaking.
Zeke: You know that putting “professionally speaking” at the end of your messages doesn’t make them work appropriate, right?
CHLOE
“Did you bang him yet?” Tilly shouts from behind the mouthful of hotdog she’s just stuffed into her pie hole.
“Like I really needed to count your fillings today, Till,” I snipe, gripping the edge of my blue plastic seat. We’re about to head into the bottom of the ninth inning and we’re neck and neck. We’ve got one man on double, and Jackson Straite has just stepped up to bat.
“I don’t have fillings, thank you. I take my dental hygiene very seriously.” Tilly scoffs, wiping her hands off on a mustard smeared napkin.
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you just annihilated a family sized bucket of caramel popcorn.” I snort, biting down on my lip as I see Straite stretching out in front of the cage.
I tap two fingers against the peak of my Yankees cap in a silent tribute to the baseball gods.
An age-old superstitious habit I’ve picked up from my dad and he picked up from his father.
“Come on, Jax!” an enormous guy a couple of rows down roars as he stands, big enough that he blocks our view, even though I rise from my seat.
“Hey, Sasquatch. Sit the fuck down!” I yell, grinding my teeth.
The man twists, flashing a white smile at me from an unarguably handsome face: dark hair, warm brown eyes, and sun-kissed skin.
“My feet are pretty big, but not as big as my—” The cocky guy is cut off as the petite brunette beside him clips him on the ear.
“Ouch, Mia!” he grumbles loud enough for us to hear, swatting her hand away.
“If Straite hits this out of the park, I’ll buy you a drink! ” he hollers back with a wink.
Another big guy next to him with deeply tanned skin and hazel eyes turns and holds up his hand in apology. I laugh at the pained expression on his face and shrug easily.
“Yeesh, why have I been wasting my time on Tinder? I should have let you drag me here years ago—total sausage fest,” Tilly announces, eyeing the cocky guy with a hungry gleam in her eye.
“Down, girl. Plenty of time for that after we win.” My eyes are back on Straite, who is winding his bat in preparation. The ball flies for him quicker than my eyes can register, and Straite knocks it straight out of the ballpark.
“Fucking yes!” I scream, placing my fingers between my lips and whistling loudly. The whole stadium is up on its feet, roaring in celebration as Straite takes a lazy jog around the bases, slinging an arm around our man on double and reveling in the symphony of chants.
“Hey, Red!” I tear my eyes away from the pitch to see cocky guy twisted in place, grinning lazily. “Tequila or beer?” He waggles his brows, booming loud enough for me to hear over the raucous fans. I roll my eyes and beam, too fucking thrilled we just kicked the Red Sox’s asses to be annoyed.
***
“Chase, I swear to god, one of these days you’re going to get slapped with a sexual harassment lawsuit.” Mia laughs, shaking her head as she pours herself another glass of beer from the pitcher in the middle of the standing table.
“What my sister-in-law here means to say, is that she’s never gotten over the fact she met my asshole brother before she met me.” Chase grins, bumping her hip jokingly.
True to his word, cocky guy—aka Chase—harangued us after the game and wouldn’t accept a refusal for that drink.
We’ve ended up in Riley’s, which is close enough to the stadium that it’s a sea of navy blue, red, and gray in here.
His friend Logan and his sister-in-law, Mia, actually turned out to be fucking hilarious, and I find myself glad we came.
Tilly is practically vibrating under the attention of Logan, who’s been whispering low words in a different language into her ear for the last half hour.
Chase has tried admirably to win my affections all afternoon and although I’ve batted away each cheesy pick-up line, I’d be lying if I said the attention didn’t feel good.
We’re a few tequilas and many beers in, so I’m feeling decidedly warm and fuzzy.
“Watch your tone when speaking about my baby daddy, Walker.” Mia points an unsteady finger at Chase, trying and failing to look stern.
A large diamond ring glistens above her wedding band.
She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, all creamy pale skin and big doe eyes, like a blue-eyed Liv Tyler.
It’s clear that despite his picking at her, Chase adores his sister-in-law.
Overhead, the song switches from something pop-y to something that sounds suspiciously like Morgan Wallen.
“Ooh! I love this one! Chase, dance with me!” Mia squeals, placing her beer down with a slosh. Amber liquid seeps over the already sodden and sticky table.
“Not on your life, Crystal. You had your chance—this one is all Red’s.” Chase grins, ruffling Mia’s hair over her frowning face as he skates past her.
“I’m calling my husband.” Mia harrumphs, digging in her purse for her phone.
“My lady?” Chase gives a little bow as he extends his hand.
I raise my brows, staring at it. “Do I turn into a pumpkin at midnight, and no one told me?” I tease, sliding my hand into his.
Mia snorts in a way that is admirably unladylike. “That’s a poor line even from you, Chase—aha!” She pulls her cell phone from the depths of her purse and brandishes it like a prize.
“Don’t mind her, she’s just cranky no one will dance with her.” Chase smirks, dragging me through the crowds of people. A few of them are dancing halfheartedly, with the tapping of feet and shifting of hips. There isn’t a dance floor per say, more just grab any spot you can.
“Her husband won’t come and dance with her?” I ask, glancing back to where Mia is shouting over the music into her phone with a stupidly happy smile on her face.
Chase tips his head back and howls like I’ve just cracked the funniest joke in the world. His eyes are even silvery when he dips his head back down, wiping at a tear. “Oh Red, let’s just say Mace isn’t the dancing type.”
“Why did you call her Crystal?” I frown as he picks up my hand and slides a warm arm around my waist.
He chuckles quietly as we start to do a slow two step that doesn’t match the music at all. “She used to be a stripper.” He nods, solemn now.
My eyes bug, glancing back over to where Mia clearly shouts, “I can’t hear you!”
“For real?” I can’t picture the classy, petite brunette draped around a stripper pole for the life of me.
“No, but you should tell her I said that—she’ll get a kick out of it.” He winks, suddenly twirling me around.
My head goes spinney and I stumble lightly into his chest, fingers of my free hand splayed.
The warm, firm planes beneath his Yankees jersey distract me momentarily, but I shake my head out of it.
Chase is hot, uber hot, as Tilly might say, but something just doesn’t feel right about his hands on me. Not in that way, anyway.
“I should really be getting home, I’ve had way too much to drink.” I stifle a giggle, pushing away from his chest.
“You wound me, Red.” He mimes driving a dagger into his heart and twisting with a grimace. I’ve figured him out enough to know he’s joking, and I laugh along with him.
“In all fairness, if I know my brother, we have less than five minutes before he’s pulling up to squirrel Mia away back home.” He grins, winking as he traces a stray hair behind my ear.
“Perfect timing then.” I smile, removing my hand from his.
“For the record, you’re missing out…it really is quite big.” He smirks wickedly, scooping my hand back up.
Instead of dancing, he uses it to lead me back to the others. “Bragging that you have a big dick is actually pretty small dick energy, dude.” I snort.
He grins at me over his shoulder. “I do like me a spicy redhead.” He turns to Mia, who is swaying lightly on her feet with a big happy smile on her face. “Air?” She nods and we all pile out of the bar, Tilly laughing into the crook of Logan’s shoulder.
“You good?” I ask her quietly as she resurfaces, her face flushed.
“Yeah, I’m gonna head back with Logan. Catch the game highlights.” She snickers, her eyes sparkling as she glances back up at a grinning Logan.
“Uh-huh.” I roll my eyes. My sister is twenty-five, two years younger than me, but absolutely old enough to do what and who she wants. “From here on out, she’s in your care, buddy. I will tear apart Heaven and Earth to get to you if one hair on her head is harmed,” I warn him with a stern finger.
He snaps his feet together and offers me a salute. “On my honor.” He grins.
“Share your location and call me if you need,” I whisper in Tilly’s ear as I hug her goodbye.
The screech of car tires draws all of our attention and I turn to see a sleek black sports car that hugs the asphalt pull up.
The driver's door opens and out steps a behemoth of a man.
Dark hair, broad shoulders, and icy blue eyes appear, making my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. Jesus, that guy is hot.
“Ladies and gentleman, my husband.” Mia sighs happily, grinning like a loon as she eyes him up and down.
The man’s eyes skip over everyone and zero in on his wife, softening slightly as they land.
“Home for you,” he says in a deep, clipped voice as he wraps a steadying arm around her waist and places a kiss on the top of her head.
If I ever see this woman again, remind me to high-five her for the excellent catch.
I should be ready to kneel at his feet, but honestly?
For some reason, all I can think about right now are steely, mahogany eyes and deep tanned skin.
The way Zeke’s deep voice brushes over my skin like a caress and how I find myself fantasizing about running my tongue over the scruff on his sharp jawline.
The way he dominates any space, sucking all the oxygen out of the room.
.. And daddy Zeke? Just a whole new level of hot.
“That look right there is how I know my chances are shot with you.” Chase sighs, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
I start, my eyes jerking to his. “I wasn’t—”
He cuts me off with an easy laugh, holding up one hand. “Don’t worry Red, it’s how ninety percent of women look at my brother—nothing new.”
I decide to let it lie, because drunk as I am, even I don’t want to explain that I was actually fantasizing about my boss.
“You need a ride?” He quirks his head.
I smile. “Nah, I'll get a cab. Thanks though.”
He nods, easy smile still plastered all over his chiseled face. “Keep it spicy, Red.” He ruffles my hair, which I take to mean I’ve been neatly filed away into the friendship-only file.
“Stay fresh, cheese bags.” I throw back the first thing that comes to mind—some parting line of a nineties commercial.
He tips his head back and howls as he walks away, sliding into the back of the car with one last parting wink.