short.”
“A man has his needs,” I said, shaking my head as we made our way outside.
“Hey, I’d be happy to cancel my alternate plans if you wanted to . . .” He chuckled. The fed-up expression on my face must have amused him. “Right. Okay then. But you’re missing out.”
“I have no doubt about it.” I got into his car and rubbed my forehead. I was getting a headache, probably because I still hadn’t eaten. Room service was in order.
Lance got me to my hotel in one piece and even offered to walk me to my room, but I wasn’t about to keep him from his booty call any longer than I already had. At least I’d gotten some information I could use, so the night wasn’t a total waste. I ordered a burger from room service before I even bothered to kick off my shoes. Then I sat down to type up my notes.
According to Lance Green, Brad was quiet and withdrawn when he first joined the Dodgers. Perhaps that was when he found out his father was sick. I need to get the timing on his illness, when Brad knew, and how he coped, which of course means we need to talk again. I wish he’d write his own damn story.
What was the turnaround that made him hook up with the unattainable Mary? And then treat her like crap the next day? The Brad I knew wouldn’t have done that.
Lance also says Brad hasn’t been his usual slutty self lately. Pam would know why. I’ll have to ask her. And him. Why does it feel like there are about twenty different Brads? People are complex, I admit, but I need to find out who he is now. Will he let me in? Will I let him let me in?
There was the million-dollar question. I didn’t know if I could survive round two with him, but I didn’t know how I would write this book without getting closer to him either.
Blessedly, the knock on my door meant I could stop thinking and start eating. I saved my notes and closed my laptop before answering the door and stopping in my tracks. It wasn’t my food, but damned if I wasn’t hungry for the sight before me anyway.
Bradley Reynolds stood there in the same outfit I’d seen him leaving the stadium in, with the addition of a black leather jacket. Yum. But not what I needed.
“What are you doing here?”
He stepped inside and shut the door. “Where is he?”
Chapter 11
Brad stormed around my room, peering in the closet and even under the bed.
“Green! Get out here and let me kick your ass like a man!”
“What in the hell are you doing? He’s not here.”
Brad shot me a look and opened the balcony door. Fine. I’d let him hunt for his teammate. Another knock on my door had him storming back inside, but I opened it before he could start yelling at the poor delivery guy. I grabbed my food and shoved some money at him before slamming the door and glaring at Brad as the scent of my burger hit me and sent my stomach grumbling.
“Are you through making an ass out of yourself? Can you kindly leave so I can finally eat?” He’d already cost me two meals today—or talking about him had, at least—and I wasn’t going to sleep without eating something.
Brad ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room again. “I thought you had dinner with Green.”
“You thought a lot more than that, apparently,” I said. Screw it. I carried my burger and fries over to the desk and sat down to eat.
“Well, of course I did. The fucker texted me and made it pretty clear things were going well. Wait a minute, is that why you didn’t eat? You were too busy screwing Green to eat dinner?”
I turned and stared at him. “Are you kidding me? You, of all people, are here accusing me of sleeping around? Pot, meet kettle.” I pointed one of my fries at him. “Just because you and your teammates like to screw anything that moves doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.”
“ I don’t. He does. Look at what he sent me, damn it.”
He shoved his phone in front of my face and pulled up a text.
She tastes as good as she looks.
Well,
“A man has his needs,” I said, shaking my head as we made our way outside.
“Hey, I’d be happy to cancel my alternate plans if you wanted to . . .” He chuckled. The fed-up expression on my face must have amused him. “Right. Okay then. But you’re missing out.”
“I have no doubt about it.” I got into his car and rubbed my forehead. I was getting a headache, probably because I still hadn’t eaten. Room service was in order.
Lance got me to my hotel in one piece and even offered to walk me to my room, but I wasn’t about to keep him from his booty call any longer than I already had. At least I’d gotten some information I could use, so the night wasn’t a total waste. I ordered a burger from room service before I even bothered to kick off my shoes. Then I sat down to type up my notes.
According to Lance Green, Brad was quiet and withdrawn when he first joined the Dodgers. Perhaps that was when he found out his father was sick. I need to get the timing on his illness, when Brad knew, and how he coped, which of course means we need to talk again. I wish he’d write his own damn story.
What was the turnaround that made him hook up with the unattainable Mary? And then treat her like crap the next day? The Brad I knew wouldn’t have done that.
Lance also says Brad hasn’t been his usual slutty self lately. Pam would know why. I’ll have to ask her. And him. Why does it feel like there are about twenty different Brads? People are complex, I admit, but I need to find out who he is now. Will he let me in? Will I let him let me in?
There was the million-dollar question. I didn’t know if I could survive round two with him, but I didn’t know how I would write this book without getting closer to him either.
Blessedly, the knock on my door meant I could stop thinking and start eating. I saved my notes and closed my laptop before answering the door and stopping in my tracks. It wasn’t my food, but damned if I wasn’t hungry for the sight before me anyway.
Bradley Reynolds stood there in the same outfit I’d seen him leaving the stadium in, with the addition of a black leather jacket. Yum. But not what I needed.
“What are you doing here?”
He stepped inside and shut the door. “Where is he?”
Chapter 11
Brad stormed around my room, peering in the closet and even under the bed.
“Green! Get out here and let me kick your ass like a man!”
“What in the hell are you doing? He’s not here.”
Brad shot me a look and opened the balcony door. Fine. I’d let him hunt for his teammate. Another knock on my door had him storming back inside, but I opened it before he could start yelling at the poor delivery guy. I grabbed my food and shoved some money at him before slamming the door and glaring at Brad as the scent of my burger hit me and sent my stomach grumbling.
“Are you through making an ass out of yourself? Can you kindly leave so I can finally eat?” He’d already cost me two meals today—or talking about him had, at least—and I wasn’t going to sleep without eating something.
Brad ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room again. “I thought you had dinner with Green.”
“You thought a lot more than that, apparently,” I said. Screw it. I carried my burger and fries over to the desk and sat down to eat.
“Well, of course I did. The fucker texted me and made it pretty clear things were going well. Wait a minute, is that why you didn’t eat? You were too busy screwing Green to eat dinner?”
I turned and stared at him. “Are you kidding me? You, of all people, are here accusing me of sleeping around? Pot, meet kettle.” I pointed one of my fries at him. “Just because you and your teammates like to screw anything that moves doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.”
“ I don’t. He does. Look at what he sent me, damn it.”
He shoved his phone in front of my face and pulled up a text.
She tastes as good as she looks.
Well,
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