Chapter Twenty-Five

Kyle

Faith settled in his lap, a warm weight that set all his nerves on fire. And those legs? Those amazing, beautiful, long legs that danced like an angel? He had access to run his hands along them from midthigh to ankle. Her muscles flexed under his touch.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered.

“Lovely?” she murmured against his neck, before planting a kiss on his jaw. “That’s not a word I hear guys our age use often. Hot, maybe.”

He traced a line down her calf with his index finger. “Should I have said hot, then?”

“Hell no.” She peered up at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her eyelashes fluttered at him. “I’m all for lovely.”

“Good.” He ran his other hand up her back and tangled it in the hair at the base of her neck. “I’m glad I met you. You’re different.”

“So are you.”

“Hmm.” He kissed her cheek, the line of her long neck, her collarbone. “Is that bad?”

“Let me repeat. Hell no.” She put her hands under his jaw and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “I’m glad I met you, too.”

He shifted her closer and kissed her softly. She kissed him back with more force, and one of her hands drifted to the hem of his T-shirt. She didn’t try to pull his shirt over his head, but instead skimmed her fingers along his stomach. He’d never really grasped the concept of feeling both hot and cold, but he did now, and his hands shook on her back.

She pulled away, giving him a slightly bemused look. “Are you ticklish?”

“Uh.” Damn, his brain was in lockdown. “No?”

She shook her head, smiling. “That sounded unsure. Just to be safe, though…”

She pulled her hand out of his shirt, and he kind of hated himself for losing the thread. Faith didn’t get up, though. All she did was slow it down, and he felt a swell of relief. Which was stupid. Here he was with a beautiful girl in his lap, and he was nervous.

Calm down, nerves. I want to enjoy this.

They clung together on the couch, kissing, cuddling, for about thirty minutes before Kyle caught a glint of light through the window. “I think someone’s here?”

She popped off his lap like a shot. “Mom. Go outside and pretend to work.” She grabbed her pointe shoes and shoved him toward the porch. “Go.”

His brain was having a little trouble switching gears from girl-in-his-lap to manual-labor-outside, but he stumbled behind her. She was already in the chair, tying her shoes around her ankles. “Hurry!”

He pushed through the screen door as another door slammed inside the house. “Faith? Baby?”

Cutting it close. He jogged into the yard and knelt over some loose sod, tugging at it like he was putting it in place. A moment later he heard Mrs. Gladwell ask Faith how long she’d been practicing.

The porch door swung open. “Kyle, this looks amazing.”

He smeared extra dirt on his hands to make it look good, then stood. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s just about finished. I’ll need to come by tomorrow and water it in, then reprogram your sprinkler system. Will it do for your party next week?”

“More than.” Mrs. Gladwell nodded. “It’s perfect.”

He nodded, thankful his heart rate had slowed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to head out. I have baseball practice, and I promised to take Faith out for some ice cream afterward.”

She beamed. “That’s fine with me.”

He caught Faith watching him over her mother’s shoulder. She had one hand over her mouth, no doubt trying to hide a laugh. “I’ll be back around six then.”

Now that his initial flustering had passed, he couldn’t wait to have Faith back in his arms—especially with Cameron to see it.

Tonight was going to be amazing. He could feel it.

“So, what’s the story?” Tristan pointed his mitt at Kyle. “Word’s out you aren’t just seeing Cameron’s ex, but exploring places no man’s gone before. I need details.”

“None of your business.” Kyle brushed past him and jogged up the steps of the dugout.

“Aw, come on!” Tristan ran behind him on their way out to the outfield for fielding practice. “I live for your stories, man. You know it!”

Kyle focused on the grass under his feet. The field had been mowed while they took a break, and the air smelled like cut grass with a faint hit of fresh chalk from the new lines. He took a deep breath, trying to forget the way Faith’s hair felt in his fingers. He’d miss every catch coming his way if he thought about her. And Tristan wasn’t helping.

“You texted me, asking about her.” Tristan ran up and bumped him. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going down, asshat?”

Kyle sighed. When it was just a game, running his mouth had been part of it. Now telling Tristan anything seemed cheap. “We’re going to Dolly’s later. You wanna know? Be there. I heard Cameron might be there, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have some backup.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows. “I will. See if the rumors are true.” He laughed. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re not just full of shit. I mean, the stories are great, but it’ll be nice to get some proof, you know?”

Kyle forced a smile, even though his insides were freezing. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see. Now shut up and get into position. Coach is giving us a death stare.”

Tristan saluted and jogged to center field, leaving Kyle to wonder if his house of cards would come crashing down, or if Faith would help keep his rep intact…without ever finding out.