“I’m fine.” Her answer is curt, and I know I should take the hint and leave well enough alone, but of course my mouth opens before I can stop it.
“Are you really? Because that guy looked and sounded like an ass.”
She just nods, saying nothing, yet screaming loud and clear that she doesn’t want to talk about it. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon after I left the bar.”
I chuckle at her attempt to change the subject and at her subtle way of fishing for information. It’s adorable.
“Decided to head home early. You know, so I can work on my swing…” I tease, loving the flush that rises against her neck.
“Why do I have such a big mouth…” she murmurs, and I can tell she never meant for me to hear it. But before I have a chance to tell her it wasn’t a big deal; she beats me to it. “Sorry about that, I was trying to get a rise out of you.”
Well, she’s done one hell of a job, I think, hoping a certain part of my body doesn’t alert her to just how much she got a rise out of me.
“I really hope I didn’t ruin your night. That wasn’t my intention.” I can’t get over the fact that this girl still doesn’t see herself as worthy of my time. How is that possible? How a woman like Harper, who is smart, sexy, and hardheaded feels anything less than worshiped is baffling to me.
“No, you didn’t ruin my night. I’m actually glad you did what you did.”
Her eyebrow raises in question.
“It made me realize that I would rather be somewhere else.” That blush returns and I’m beginning to crave it. “So darlin’,” I start, laying the southern charm on thick as I put the truck in drive and turn to face the road. “Where are we headed?”
She tells me where she lives, and we lapse into silence as I head out of the parking lot and onto the highway. I can sense the nervous energy washing off her the longer we sit without talking, and although I just like being near her, I can tell she’s getting more and more uncomfortable the longer we’re in the car.
“So, you like being pro?” she groans after she asks the question and places her head in her hands, shaking her head. “Urgh, that was such a stupid question. Don’t mind me, I’m going to crawl into a hole and die.”
I keep my eyes on the road, trying to hide the smile as she continues to hide her face in her hands.
“I just hate awkward silences.”
“I never found this awkward,” I admit, turning my head as she lifts her eyes to mine and I smile. She deflates, sitting back in her seat. “But to answer your question, I love being a pro. I get to do what I love and get paid well to do it…” I hesitate, trying to find the words to describe what my life is like outside of the fantasy that the media portrays.
“But?”
“But there are always good and bad aspects of anything. And unfortunately, the bad can be pretty bad.” I wonder if I should elaborate, but when she nods, a dark cloud fills her eyes. I don’t know what she’s thinking about, but I know it had nothing to do with me.
“It helps that you’re good at it,” she says, shaking herself out of wherever she just went. “Except for the swing.” She winks, her lips lifting as I try not to stare too long, memorizing them, fantasizing about the way they would look wrapped around my cock. “All joking aside. You do have an innate talent that I wish I had. I’m twenty-six and still have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
“That’s not a bad thing. Not everyone knows what they want to do by the time they graduate high school. No shame in that.”
She sighs, telling me she feels otherwise. “Oh, I knew what I wanted to be when I was in high school.”
“What did you want to do?” The longer I sit in this truck, the longer I’m surrounded by her strawberry scent, and the more she talks, the more I want to turn us around and go to my place so I can show her just how much I want her.
“I wanted to be a sports medicine doctor. I wanted to be near the sports I loved without having to actually play them.”
“And how did that go?”
She laughs, her head leaning back against the headrest and tilting so she’s looking out the window.
“I failed everything. Apparently, you need to pass a math class to graduate and my brain and math just don’t compute.” She doesn’t say anything for a minute then continues. “When I was little, I wanted to be the first female pro pitcher, but that dream died long before college. Hence me thinking sports medicine was the next best thing. I just wish I could have done it, you know? Graduate and made him proud,” she says that last part as a whisper, and when her eyes get big and her face turns toward me saying, “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.” Her fingers play with the holes in her jeans again as she opens her mouth to say something but then closes it again.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Harper.” I’m hoping to make her more at ease, but when that pain behind her eyes hits me like a ton of bricks, I wonder what this girl has gone through.
“I know…” At first, I think she’s just going to stay silent, but then she takes a breath and continues. “My dad
