Page 21 of Curveball (Tennessee Terrors #9)

Max

I generally guard my free time closely, choosing to spend it with Natalie, sometimes Adele, doing whatever comes to mind at the time.

But today’s coaching session with Palmer’s son, the woman I’ve come to admire, respect, appreciate— and hell yes, lust after —is a welcome change.

I hadn’t even realized how small my personal world has become.

These growing feelings for Palmer, though—damn, but they’re coming at me like a line drive.

Palmer walks silently beside me across the yard and then the pool patio on our journey back to the house.

She’s been here with Dylan for a couple of hours, but I want to check on Adele and help Natalie get lunch before I leave for the field.

We’ve reached the covered patio attached to the back of the house when she peers up at me with her dark eyes looking troubled.

“Look, maybe I misunderstood whatever we were doing after that call last week. I read more into . . . it . . . than I think you did. It was fun to have someone to flirt with, but I let it go too far and?—”

“Our kiss today was real. We are us , just like we said.”

Her brow pinches.

“We were on the same page, both of us. I was there with you for every message. They made me feel . . . like I wasn’t hundreds of miles away. I’m here with you today. Still on the same page.”

She lowers her gaze to the ground at her feet, to where she’s scuffing her toe into the flagstone with the tip of her pink athletic shoe. I tip her chin up so I can see her lightly freckled face, her pert nose and pointed chin, her eyes swirling with hope and confusion.

Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth before she lets it go. “I’m a lot, I get it. I come with . . . well, you got a look at it.”

“Palmer Girl, show me anyone our age who doesn’t have shit baggage and stories to tell, and I’ll show you someone who hasn’t had a life.”

I reach out and pull her in close, and she lets me.

“I could use a little less life about now.”

She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, but she anchors herself to me by clasping my forearms, and I drop my forehead to hers.

“It was easy when we were words on a screen, not here, standing in front of each other expecting just the right reaction, just the right thought.”

“I don’t expect anything special.” Her hand lifts from covering my tats and moves to lay on my chest. “Just you.”

I lift my eyebrows and peer down at her with a grin. “You sayin’ I’m not special?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, for the love of?—”

I cut her off with my mouth on her lips.

Her surprised moan hums against my mouth and vibrates all the way to my cock.

I reach down and lift her so I don’t have to lean so far, and her short, flirty skirt flutters around her as she wraps her legs around me while I kiss her lips, her ear.

I’m free to rake my mouth across this woman who makes me lose my ever-loving mind, and then teases me back to sanity.

Her mouth is latched to my earlobe, then sucking and licking her way over the scruff covering my cheeks and chin, lengthening her neck so I can ravage that vein pulsing at the base of it.

She’s filling my senses with the soft feel and sweet smell of her, her hips rocking over the thin fabric of my shorts with her movements.

The sound of Dylan and Natalie bickering as they cross the yard thankfully reaches us with just enough time to disengage and pretend we weren’t attached at the lips only a moment ago.

Dylan sees us first, and isn’t quick enough to hide a smirk. “Hey, there you are. We thought you were already inside.”

Palmer clears her throat and runs a hand over her hip. “We’re just discussing”—her gaze flits to mine, then to a point over Dylan’s shoulder—“stuff. Go on out front and I’ll meet you there.”

“Everything okay, Palmer?” Dylan’s a teenage boy and they’re rarely tuned in to emotions, but Natalie—another story with that girl.

“Yeah, honey. Your dad and I are just talking about?—”

“Grown-up stuff, right?” Then she laughs. “Come on, Daddy, I know the sex face when I see it.”

She disappears before I can even sputter out a lie.

Palmer is bent over with laughter. “Holy hell, where did you find that girl? She is a blessing.”

I’m still shaking my head, and wondering what I’m in for after Palmer and Dylan leave. Maybe it’ll be possible to sneak out and not come back till she forgets today happened.

Palmer is still staring after my daughter, amusement and a tender smile covering her features.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the deal with Natalie’s mom?”

I’m caught off-guard by her question. Not that I mind the subject; the story’s been in the press for years. But Palmer’s so guarded about her own life, it’s surprising she’d bring up the topic of Hannah.

I shrug and lead her to sit beside me on a padded settee.

“Hannah Mulligan was my best friend in college, if you can imagine that. We met when we were both sophomores and then we became . . . closer . . . senior year. I had a breakout season after just missing out the year before, and I was working my ass off. I had hundreds of teammates, classmates, dormmates—but she was the one who got me. We were both focused on our goals and didn’t want significant others.

Sooo . . . it worked out for both of us. ”

Palmer laughs. “Oh, my God, she was your friend with benefits?”

Lips twisted to the side, I look down at her with side eyes. “And I knocked her up.”

She gasps, then gapes, and I remember that reaction clearly. I was shocked, too, at the time.

“I’d never leave her to deal with that alone. Like I said, best friend. We both agreed we wanted the kid—that was never a question. We were both on track for being financially set, we just needed a little time to make it happen.”

Palmer’s been thoughtful, but when she finally replies, she’s not judgmental at all. “That must have been rough.”

It definitely wasn’t an easy time. I nod. “We had a lot of questions. A lot of doubts that we were doing the right thing. Except”—I shrug—“ W e knew .”

Palmer lays her dainty hand on my forearm and I like the way it looks, blending with the colors and shapes etched into my skin. “Natalie’s an exceptional girl. I’m sure her mom must have been, too.”

I nod, but slowly. “She was my person, at a time when I needed one desperately. She’d been accepted to several law schools, but hadn’t heard back from Vanderbilt, so she didn’t know if she’d be able to stay in Nashville.” At Palmer’s questioning gaze, I tack on, “She ended up at Penn.”

Her brow cinches. “So, how?—”

“I landed my first contract with the Terrors—a sheer stroke of luck—so I knew I’d live in Nashville. At least one of us would be nearby, close to the baby. At the time, it was the best we could hope for.”

She nods along with my story. “But . . . wow. How does someone take care of an infant with the schedule you have playing ball?”

The feelings of worry and guilt from those early days still give me sleepless nights.

“Hannah had been living with her mom while she went to school, and Adele agreed to help when we weren’t in town,” I state honestly.

Because I don’t know how we would have survived without that woman.

“We were so lucky to have her on our side. How many single parents have someone offer to jump right in with support, however it’s needed? ”

“Yes, lucky.” Tears suddenly shimmer in her eyes. What nerve did I touch?

I find myself reaching out and using the pad of my thumb to gently sweep away a drop of moisture overflowing her lower lid.

My heart kicks, the feel of her flesh underneath mine a visceral memory reincarnated again today, along with the sensation of her knuckles rubbing against my beard and her hands cupping my cheeks as I lower my brow to hers.

I shake my head to clear it, and peer at my thumb as though I don’t remember how it became wet.

“We each fight our own battles, Palmer. Make our own choices. It’s easier when you know you have people in your corner.”

Palmer’s brows make a quick, sardonic movement. “My corner seems incredibly light these days.”

I don’t know her friends, but she must have several who are close. She has her son. Maybe family, though she never speaks of them. I bump my arm against her shoulder.

“I bet you have more there than you realize.”

She gives me a long, doubtful look, peering upward to meet my eyes. I sidle close to her and wrap my arm across her shoulder to comfort her.

I shrug and tip up one side of my lips. I have a dimple there, but it’s the side that lifts naturally. Nothing contrived going on, no matter how much shit I’ve taken over the years. No matter how much pussy it bagged me when I was young.

“You never know,” I add after her look of total disbelief and my protracted silence. And then, I wink.

I do it on purpose this time, a way to mock my errant eye twitch the night we first met. And hopefully, a way to lighten the mood.

She smiles broadly and my breath catches. My heart flip flops and there’s an immediate lightening in my chest—as though I made something unexpected but good happen.

I walk with her all the way to the front entry. Our kids are sitting out front on a porch step. I spot them through the long vertical pane at the side of the door. Palmer reaches for the knob, then pivots so she’s backed against the wooden panel.

“Thanks for . . . today, Max. It was . . . good.”

I cut her off by reaching out and wrapping my hand around her wrist. I lower my lips to hers for a slow, lingering kiss, the solid front door hiding my action from the two sitting outside.

“Come to my game today.”

“What?”

The invitation is as much a surprise to me as it is to her, but I’m running with it.

“Yeah. Bring the kids.” I snap my lips together, roll my eyes, and then let out an embarrassed chuckle.

I spread my arms to the sides, and releasing her wrist is a tragic casualty of my movement.

Wanting the contact, I drop my palm to the nape of her neck, my thumb lightly massaging that pulse point I found earlier.

“That sounds very domestic. I’m . . . out of practice, but?—”

She steps out of my touch and my hand falls to my side. “But Adele still can’t drive. You want Natalie there, and she needs a ride.” She reaches for the knob again with her head bowed, shaking it slightly, as if in regret. “I’m sorry, Max. I want to help, but . . . it’ll have to be another time.”

Clouds of disappointment fall over my vision and I look away, observing the kids sitting side-by-side and debating something either overly lighthearted or terribly serious, considering it involves broad hand movements and exaggerated facial expressions.

I’m learning it could be anything with those two.

When I turn back to Palmer, I’m recovered, my gaze returned to steady and clear, though disappointment looms heavy.

“I understand.”

She rolls her head back so she’s staring at the ceiling, but her eyes are squeezed closed. “Look, I need to get things organized at my house. Summer classes start Tuesday.”

Her voice is strong and forceful, almost angry. And . . . totally transparent . The realization hits me over the head like a forty-ounce bat. I just need to understand how to read her.

This woman is alone, resourceful, and independent.

Her initial reaction is always to protect her son, and then herself.

I don’t want anything from her—nothing she’s uncomfortable sharing or giving anyway.

She’d carve me up for that observation, but her thoughts seem to transmit in invisible waves only I can hear.

I tip my lips up in a smile, this time, letting that dimple work for me. Fuck, this must be the most I’ve smiled since the night I met her.

“Palmer Sloan, would you like to come to my game tonight?”

She drops her head to her chest and mutters a quiet, begrudging curse. “Damn it, Max.”

I wait her out, pretending my anxiety isn’t ratcheted and my heart isn’t bursting like I just pitched a comeback win. I almost have her.

“I won’t sit with the wives and girlfriends.”

Atta girl . We’re closer.

“I can agree to that.”

And finally, she gives in. Shaking her head with a grimace, like she can’t believe what she’s saying.

“All right, Max, I’ll come to your game.”

I want to beat my chest in male satisfaction. Damn, this woman makes me work harder than Eddie does. I put my hand on her shoulder and let it slide all the way down her arm.

“Not a problem. I’ll leave tickets at Will Call.”