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“Call it intuition.”
Holy shit. Who was this? “Do we know each other?”
“What the fuck is going on?” Ransom bellowed standing completely naked in the doorway. “Who are you talking to?”
The call ended abruptly.
I checked the phone and saw it was restricted, no way to call him back. “Fuck, Ransom! You made him hang up!”
Ransom took a large step toward me. “Who the hell was that?”
I glared up at him from the guest bed. “A source. Someone who had information for me. Maybe someone I know, but I didn’t get that far. What’s wrong with you?”
He pointed to the phone. “A man called you in the middle of the night!”
I tossed my pen down on the notepad. “So? Am I supposed to be jealous every time a woman throws her panties at you?”
He snarled. “Women don’t throw panties at me.”
I tilted my head with an incredulous look.
He crossed his arms. “Not at games, they don’t. Maybe at meet and greets, but I can’t control women or their panties.”
Oh, he did not just go there. “Oh, you can’t, huh?”
“I mean, well,” he stuttered, “I just do what management tells me to do, short of smiling.”
I raised my chin. “So, that makes it better? Women stuff their panties in your pocket at photo ops and because you don’t smile, it’s all okay?”
He narrowed his gaze. “Raven.”
I turned to sit at the edge of the bed facing him. “No, I’m waiting to hear the explanation on this. I receive a call, not even an in-person encounter, from a male where I’m getting information for a story and that’s somehow horrible. But women jamming their wet thongs down your pants is somehow right as rain. So, you explain that to me! If you need a white board or some visual aids, just let me know. Think I can dig up a dry-erase marker around here somewhere.”
But instead of answering, Ransom ducked down in front of me to hoist me over his shoulder, but I took a step back.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You can’t be serious. You think you can just avoid this conversation by—”
Then he yanked me closer, covering my mouth with his in a deep kiss while kneading my ass.
I gave him a shove. “Ransom! You can’t just distract me out of this!”
His words came out in pants. “Look, I’m sorry. I woke up and you were gone.” His frustration was evident. “Raven, come on!”
My temper flared. “Come on, what? You can’t just avoid an argument by fucking me, Ransom. It doesn’t work that way.”
I was picking a fight. I knew I was. Some part of it was valid. He was being an idiot and I deserved an apology. But part of it was because we were getting too close, too entwined on a level I didn’t understand and it was scaring the shit out of me because this wouldn’t last. He would be gone in five months. Playing in Charleston again. We could enjoy something fun, and forever have our friendship, but we’d be apart again.
He growled and tried to grab at me, so I pointed to the door. “Not tonight, Chief.”
He recoiled. “What are you going to do?”
Picking up my pen as some sort of a shield, I chewed on the cap. “I’m already awake, might as well get some work done.”
He roared his displeasure. “It’s three in the fucking morning. Come back to bed!”
I shook my head.
Ransom stood in front of the door with his arms crossed. “Get back in bed.”
