JUNE 29
“What do you mean I can’t watch the Dodgers game? I thought you liked baseball.” I looked at Zag incredulously.
“Those fuckers are never allowed in my house—in person or on TV. I don’t know how you can call yourself a Reno resident and not be a Giants fan.”
“Easy. I don’t live in San Francisco.” I had been trolling through the channel guide on his TV and stopped on the game. “I’ve been a Dodgers fan ever since I was twelve.”
“Holy fuck.” Zag stared at me with wide eyes. “I don’t think I can sleep with you anymore.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. He didn’t—he wasn’t going to break up with me over a baseball team. Was he?
The front door slammed against the wall and a slender baby-faced guy in all black sauntered in. “I’ve got the brews, bro, if you’ve got the h—” He cut off when his eyes clashed with mine. He looked from me to Zag and back again. “Hello. Sorry, man, I didn’t know you had company.”
Zag closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “No, it’s fine, Bobby. It’s your place, too, now.”
Bobby closed the door behind him and walked cautiously across the living room. I half thought that if I moved too quickly, he’d jump out of his skin.
Zag grabbed one of the beers off Bobby’s six-pack and handed it to me. “Bobby, this is Jessica. Jess, Bobby, my roommate and a prospect with the Brothers.”
I gave him a slight smile and waved with my beer. Bobby smiled back, then ducked his head. He was cute in that little-lost-puppy kind of way, with his big, sad brown eyes and messy, overly long hair. I wondered if he was growing it out like Zag.
“Holy fuck. What are the Dodgers doing on your TV?” Bobby even sounded like Zag.
I would’ve smiled, but I was too busy trying to defend my beloved Dodgers. “Come on, they’re not that bad. I mean, it’s still baseball.”
Stunned silence met my statement.
Zag stared stone-faced at me but said nothing.
Not really keen on the undercurrents spinning around the room, I totally caved. “Or we could watch something else. Maybe the Giants are playing.”
It wasn’t my house after all. I held the remote out to Zag.
But still he didn’t take it or say anything. He just stared at me with that scary-as-all-hell angry biker expression.
“Or maybe I should go.” I stood to do just that but didn’t get very far. A tug on my hand brought me up short. Zag pulled me to him until I landed with a not-so-soft “oomph” on his chest.
He kept one arm around me and grabbed the remote with the other. “Let’s watch the Giants game.”
Bobby grunted and cracked open a beer.
I held my breath as the guys conversed around me about the Giants’ starting lineup. I didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. Were they just teasing me? I was used to the banter that came with relationships—both romantic and sibling—but something about the way Zag and Bobby looked at me didn’t make me think of playful teasing. Both had an inherent menacing air. Even Bobby with his lost-puppy eyes had turned cold in a heartbeat. Not sure if I was really welcome or not, I sat stiffly beside Zag.
But slowly over the next hour I saw a different side to Zag. He was just as passionate about his Giants as he was about…well, I didn’t have much to compare it to outside of the bedroom. And the way he was with Bobby was a lot like my brothers. Only rougher.
“Fuck you, man. The Giants have a solid pitching roster. They don’t fucking need—” Zag named the latest Giants pitcher to fall on the disabled list. “Besides, that kid they signed is a goddamn rock star.”
Bobby shook his head. “Bullshit, he’ll flame out in a season. If not sooner.”
“You’re so full of it. What do you think, princess?”
I blinked at Zag’s question. I’d been mostly silent for the last hour. Although he still had his arm around my shoulders, I’d begun to wonder if he remembered I was in the room. And suddenly he wanted to know what I thought? I hadn’t been expecting that. My mind whirled. “Uh…I agree with Bobby. I don’t think your rock star has anything that anyone on the Dodgers’ roster couldn’t hit out of the park.”
Bobby closed his eyes with a soft curse. “She really knows how to pat you on the back with one hand while twisting your balls with the other.”
Zag just laughed.
I smiled at the unfamiliar but welcome sound and nestled closer to his chest. I could get used to this. “So what do you do, Bobby?”
Bobby reached over the coffee table and grabbed another beer. “I’m a prep cook at a restaurant in the Mother Lode.”
“Really? I’m a front-desk clerk there. How long have you been cooking?”
“Never said I could cook.”
I stared at him, flummoxed. “But you said—”
“That I was a prep cook. Yeah. I peel potatoes and wash vegetables. And if it’s slow, I wash pots and pans.”
“Oh.”
Bobby scratched his jaw. “The hours are better, though. If I was a chef, I’d have to stay till closing. Prep cooks get to leave early.”
“Yeah, this way he has time for the club.” Zag ran his hand up and down my arm. “Kinda hard to run with the boys if you’re always working.”
I shivered at Zag’s casual caress. It was so similar to something a boyfriend would do, I couldn’t believe it’d come from Zag. Even in our down moments, when it was just me and him, he’d never made such a gesture toward me before. I was afraid to move in case I spooked him like a nibbling bunny.
Although it wasn’t the only thing Zag did that reminded me of a bunny.
“That’s cool,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure if I was referring to Bobby’s flexible schedule or Zag’s bunniness.
“Well, I gotta get.” Bobby pushed out of the arm chair and headed for the door. “I’ve got patrol duty with Squints.”
Not sure I wanted to know what patrol duty consisted of or what a Squint was, I watched Bobby walk across the living room. He didn’t look drunk but you could never be too sure. “You sure you’re okay to ride? How many did you have?”
“Fuck me.” Zag’s chest heaved with his sigh. “He only had two beers in a little under two hours. He’ll be fine, princess.”
Bobby snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d ask if she was my ma.”
“Screw you, you bastard,” Zag sneered. “That’s not fuckin’ funny.”
“Later.” Bobby gave Zag a one-finger salute before closing the door behind him.
Both Zag and I sat silently cuddling on the couch as the Giants game droned on in the background. At least it droned on for me. Given the way Zag continued to stroke my arm, his mind was obviously elsewhere—most likely on the game in front of him. He was so cute, the way he was all intent on the screen. I couldn’t help but smile as his lips moved while he whispered his encouragement to the batter.
Zag let out a huge whoop the same time the crowd on the TV cheered.
“Yes! That’s it. There’s no way the Padres are coming back from that. Three-fucking-run homer.” He looked down at me and the smile slowly slid off his face. “What?”
“Nothing.” I silently kicked my ass for breaking the moment. Not wanting it to totally die, I snuggled into his chest and breathed in that scent that was purely Zag—mint and man. “Why doesn’t Bobby have a nickname, too?”
“Huh?”
“Bobby. I’m assuming that’s his given name, not a nickname?”
Zag nodded.
“Why doesn’t he have a biker name like you do?”
Zag lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and I rode through the movement, determined not to let him subtly push me away.
“He does, I just forget to use it most times. I’ve known Bobby from before the club. And he’s still just a prospect.” He grew silent and watched the TV. The announcers were replaying the highlights of the first five innings. “He’s come a long way over the past two years.”
Not sure whether he was talking about the Giants’ new pitcher or Bobby, I stayed quiet.
“I can’t believe it’s been two fuckin’ years,” he whispered to himself. He looked as though he was lost in some memory, one that didn’t look too pleasant, given his furrowed brow and deep scowl.
“Well, I liked him. He seemed like a nice guy.”
Zag jerked back into the present and gave me a sidelong look. “Oh, really? You think he’s nice?”
“Um, yeah…” That was a compliment, right? At least it was the last time I checked.
“So you like nice guys, huh?” He had a glint in his eye that had me thinking maybe it wasn’t a compliment to Zag or maybe it was an indictment against Zag that I liked Bobby.
He couldn’t be jealous.
“Sometimes,” I answered, treading carefully.
“Well, princess, you sure as hell don’t have one now.” Zag twisted on the wide couch, effectively pinning me beneath him. He scowled down at me. “Is that a problem?”
His mouth hovered a millimeter above mine.
“Sometimes nice guys are overrated,” I whispered half a second before his lips covered mine.
Oh yeah. Nice guys were definitely overrated.