Page 26 of Sterling Stone

However, he doesn’t set me down. Slung over his shoulder like a sack of seed, he carries me slowly toward home plate.

“What is your problem?” I snap, gripping the back of his warm shirt.

“What is yours?” His tone is equally sharp.

“Definitely not you,” I grunt as his shoulder wedges into my belly. All the blood is rushing to my head, and I try to lift it. He’s wearing a dark green Sylver Seed & Soil tee that’s sweaty down his back, and yet he still smells good. Like mountain spring and fresh air and all man.

Fuck!

“What’s that even mean?” he hums, taking his time to return me to my team.

“Don’t worry about it.” He’d said the same thing the night we met. He wanted to be a gentleman. He wanted to please his deceased mama.

How pleased would she be to know he was a liar? A cheat? He should be wearing a giant scarlet A on his chest.

Thankfully, we’ve reached my bench, which is made of blankets spread on the ground and collapsible camp chairs. He sets me on my feet, but I stumble from the sudden rush of blood to my head. Wobbling, I reach out to steady myself and grip Stone’s strong arms where the cuff of his sleeves meets his biceps and the heat of his skin warms my palms like they did the night he walked me to our hotel.

When he held my hand, cupped my face, and kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before.

Pulling my hands back, like touching him scorches me, I try not to glance at the ink he has down his forearm.

We could have had so much fun with him, my body teases.

No, we could not have, my heart screams.

I pat his chest placatingly, immediately noting how firm he is beneath that second-skin tee he’s wearing.

“Well.” I chuff. “Thanks for the ride.”

Unaware he’d been holding my hips, I miss his hands when he releases me.

“Anytime, Delilah.”

“Tallulah,” someone corrects him.

“Don’t,” I snap. The nickname hits a mark. Like a private joke shared by a couple. One that feels strangely intimate.

The kind of inside joke that had me searching for my Samson the following morning, hoping he might be lingering in the hotel lobby for the free breakfast, or at least, a coffee.

And he sure was. With her.

9

[Stone]

Ido not know what her problem is, but the longer her issue appears to be only with me, the more irritated I grow.

And if I thought my family would be focused on her, like I’ve been unable to pull my gaze away from every move she makes on this field, I was wrong. Because all eyes are on me once I set her on her feet, and she placates me with a patronizing pat on my chest before walking over to a blanket she shares with Genie.

“What?” I snap at Clay, like I hadn’t just made a spectacle, carrying Taxi over my shoulder like I was flirting with her. Like I was familiar with her. Like I knew how her lips melted against mine.

In response, he only chuckles.

For some unknown reason, I glance over at Cort next. Why I do that, I have no idea. As if some long-suppressed habit forced me to look at my former best friend for reassurance or backup in this situation. And he’s watching me with a cocked brow and a smug grin, like he knows as well as Clay that I have a secret.

One that’s about five-eight and weighs less than a couple bales of hay, with eyes that match my last name and dark lashes to boot.

Fuck. Why is she so fucking stunning? And just what’s with the attitude?