Page 25 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

TWENTY-FIVE

GREYSON

If I have a fault, it's impatience. When I want something, I want it now. If a player doesn't know the new plays, it ticks me off. Waiting on people drives me insane. And right now, Sutton is fifteen minutes late.

A strange feeling creeps over my heart like a shadow, tainting every thought—worry.

Instead, has the Uber driver kidnapped her?

Or has she been in an accident? She's not answering her phone, which I slipped back to her when I took Noelle to play tennis with Sutton.

And while Sutton and Noelle played tennis, I met Sutton's protégé, Paulina.

She's the cutest little preteen. Her teeth are a little too big for her face, and she's got this goofy grin that warms your heart.

And she adores Sutton—a feeling I am well acquainted with.

On the outside, I'm cool as a cucumber except for the incessant tapping of my fingers against the checkerboard tablecloth.

But on the inside, I feel sick, and I don't like this feeling.

Not being in control isn't in my wheelhouse.

Did something happen to Paulina? Or Anna?

Not wanting to be overbearing on our first date, I don't text or call; I just wait .

Only a few more minutes pass when the little bell above the restaurant door chimes and a vision of country chic strides in. Cowboy boots, short jean shorts showing off her long legs, a white blouse, and a summer straw cowgirl hat. Fuck, is that Sutton? It is.

She slides into the booth across from me, and the first words that come from my mouth are, "You're getting fucked tonight."

"We'll see how the date goes," she teases as her face blooms a rose-petal pink.

"Oh, it's going to go like a bucking bronco," I say, reaching for her hand. A slow smile spreads across my lips when I feel her shudder beneath my touch. It's all the confirmation I need to know she wants the same thing I do.

With a half-hearted laugh, she gives me a nearly invisible shake of her head. "Have you been here before?" she asks as she picks up the menu. "I could eat a horse."

"Good, you're going to need energy."

"Have you ever ridden?"

"A horse? Just you." Sutton's lids flutter closed, and that same flush comes creeping back up her neck. Damn, I love how she's both hot sauce and honey, like she's taken aback by her own slip of the tongue.

"I'll teach you."

"It's against your contract."

"No, it's not. My agent knows I've been riding all my life. The rule was just for Denver because I didn't have a farm there, but now that I'm home, I've already been out riding with J.D."

She peers at me with pure skepticism. I'm half-afraid she's going to whip out her phone and call the team's legal department.

Instead, she asks, "Why are you wearing those glasses?

And that shirt has pearl buttons?" She leans over the table, fiddling with them, and I come close to letting her play with my real jewels right here in a public diner.

It's an opportunity I can't pass up. I slide my hand under her hair and bring her mouth to mine. It's a slow, dragging kiss that I don't want to end. Sutton's lips vibrate before she drops back into the booth.

The waitress, who looks like she just escaped her shift at a punk rock concert, cocks her brow. With her notebook ready, she rolls her eyes and pops her gum twice.

"What will it be?" she asks, completely unfazed by who we are, which is exactly what we want.

"She'll have the bacon cheeseburger, fries extra crispy, and a chocolate shake. I'll have the country-fried steak special and a Coke." I wink at the waitress, who is unimpressed as she scribbles on her pad. She doesn't repeat it back, just walks off.

"What if I don't like bacon? Or cheese? Are you moonlighting as a cowboy nutritionist?"

"Nope. Just observant. You ate bacon-wrapped shrimp at J.D.

's that first week. You ate cheese off the charcuterie board when I had the team over.

" Sutton's face softens even more now that I'm admitting to watching every move she makes.

"And who doesn't love a milkshake? I have a feeling you've had to deny yourself some of the simplest joys in life. "

Her eyes crinkle at the corners under the brim of her straw hat.

A smile graces her face. "Actually, a few months ago, I took Paulina for ice cream.

" She wraps the flimsy paper napkin around her fingers.

"She was over the moon. Tennis academies have strict nutrition policies.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've had the meal you just ordered for me. Thank you. "

"You deserve a cheeseburger and a milkshake. Whatever you want, whenever you want it." I tilt my head and wiggle my brows.

She tries to suck in her laughter but chokes on it.

The waitress glares over her shoulder as if our good mood is the root of all evil.

A few minutes later, she drops the plates onto the table, clanking and clattering, annoyed that we're having a good time.

Another waiter brings her milkshake and my Coke.

We settle in, and I steal glances at Sutton as she studies her plate.

Her eyes go round. "I've never had so much food at one dinner.

" She unwraps her burger, adding mayonnaise as if it's candy.

Not even a death row inmate enjoying his last meal could take a bigger bite.

She picks through her fries and finds the crispiest one.

"Paulina says you're like a mom to her. Does she see her parents often?"

"No, her parents passed away. She lived with her grandparents. They don't do video calls; they're old-school and just write letters and occasionally call. It's hard to believe how close I've gotten to her in just six months."

"Hmm. Are they wealthy? It must be expensive to send her to an American tennis academy."

She coughs mid-laugh. "Hah. No. Her grandparents are factory workers, and sponsors pay for the academy.

They only do it for kids that show immense upside, and then they get a percentage of her winnings when she gets to that point.

" She licks a thread of chocolate shake from her straw and dares me with her eyes to make a suggestive comment.

I'm just grinning, loving every second of watching her tongue slide up and down the straw .

"So that's why you keep coaching her? Because she's all alone, like you were?"

Her smile fades, and she taps a fry against her lips before putting it back on the pile. "I guess. It's a hard life. People think you've got it made, but under it all, you just want to be loved, and I want to keep her from making bad decisions."

"Does that include Bodhi?"

"I don't know. If I didn't have Bodhi, I wouldn't have had any experiences. Those stolen teenage kisses. He wasn't always..."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up. It's our first date." I take another bite, and my stomach is beginning to feel the effects of the combination of fried battered steak and a heaping plate of mashed potatoes with a soda. "Are you done?"

She nods.

"Good. I want to show you my favorite place to look at the stars." Not wanting to draw attention, I pay the tab and leave a normal tip.

When Sutton scoots, the vinyl booth squeaks beneath her. I take her hand and pull her to me, placing a lingering peck on her lips. As we walk out, the waitress says with a hint of sarcasm, "Come back soon."

I open the passenger-side door to my truck. "Nice ride," Sutton says, peeking at the rusted panel.

"This baby is my first and only love," I admit, slapping the door twice before I run around to the other side and hop in. "Do you see this?" I ask, pulling a metal key from my pocket. "It's the key to my heart."

"A key to your old truck?" Her voice lifts at the end.

"My parents believed in hard work, not just sports. We either had to buy our own vehicle or we didn't get one when we turned sixteen. Parents would pay me hundreds of dollars a year to teach their kids how to play baseball or football from the time I was fourteen until I turned sixteen."

"Did you stop teaching lessons when you were sixteen? It seems like the kind of thing you would love."

My mouth goes dry. All these years later, it's still hard to think about.

I don't respond. She doesn't press. The tires crunch over the gravel road until we come to the overlook on my dad's farm.

The path is secluded by trees that my mom planted, but when you get to the end, it opens to a large plain with a pond to the left.

No more trees. No distractions. The perfect place to think.

I shift into Park and stare out the window, just taking in the quiet beauty beneath the star-filled sky.

Sutton opens her door, soaking it all in.

Moving beside her, I mutter, "I quit coaching kids when Mom died.

I was lost and only had enough money to buy this truck.

She never saw me hold up my keys for the first time or drive to the prom. Only J.D. has those memories."

With my back against the truck, I watch her step in front of me. "I'm so sorry. But at least you have memories of her. Poor Witt doesn't have any."

"I know. He was a baby, and I couldn't forgive him for taking my mom." Choking back the anxiety that simmers under my skin, I say, "I'm not proud of this, but there were times I wished... Damn, I can't even say it."

She slides her arms around my neck, playing with my hair, which curls up at the ends. "You don't have to say it."

"Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Sutton shakes her head almost imperceptibly. "Of course not. I had lots of thoughts growing up alone. Why didn't my parents want me? And sometimes I wished I would die. I thought I deserved what Bodhi would do and wished him dead. So, no, I don't. I think it's a reasonable reaction to trauma."

She pushes up on her toes and leans her chest into mine, running her finger over my lips.

I open my mouth and kiss her fingers before they drift back around my neck.

Her white shirt lifts, exposing her lower back, and my hands are drawn to her like magnets.

And instead of telling her the whole truth, I get lost in the feeling of connecting with this person who is as magnificent on the inside as she is on the outside.