by Aubrey Gross
Somehow, along the way, she’d gotten pretty good at evading the truth.
So she would put up with him—when she had to—because Chase was his brother and one of her best friends. Like a brother, really. And tonight she was putting up with Matt more than she wanted to because she was trying to give Chase and Jo—her other best friend since childhood—some time alone together to try and figure out whatever was going on between the two of them (they were obviously meant for each other, but still hadn’t come to terms with that fact).
Speaking of…
From the corner of her eye, she saw Chase lead Jo out onto the dance floor, saw the way they looked at each other and smiled. It may have been the night before the Fourth of July, but Jenn was willing to bet money that there would be fireworks tonight.
She missed her shot, turning the table over to Owen Daniels. As her other best friend—she really was lucky, wasn’t she, to have three best friends?—lined up to take his shot, Jenn sipped from her margarita and watched Matt from the corner of her eye.
Even with his current crazy haircut, the man was hot. Her gaze kept wanting to skitter up to the stitches on the shaved side of his head—stitches that had happened after he’d been hit by a line drive and suffered a cracked skull and brain bleeding just a few weeks ago.
Looking at the stitches, though, did funny things to her stomach. She’d never been good with blood or injuries; they always made her feel squeamish and jittery inside. Seeing Matt’s head—and remembering the moment the injury had happened since she, Chase, Jo and Owen had been watching the game together—made her uncomfortable.
It made her want to care.
Jenn sipped her margarita and focused her gaze on the row of cue sticks on the opposite wall.
“You can look at them, y’know.”
Matt’s voice, deep and low, a whisper against her ear, startled her. She jolted. Slushy liquid sloshed in the glass in her hand.
She took a half step to the side, away from him. “Look at what?” she asked, not looking at him.
“The stitches. My head.”
She shrugged.
“Unless you’re one of those women who gets turned on by pain. That shit’s too kinky, even for me.”
Jenn closed her eyes. Gritted her teeth. “They make me feel squeamish.”
She could feel him beside her, hot and big and the epitome of Alpha Male. If he’d been a character in the Regency romances she loved to read, he most definitely would have been a rake.
And she? She would have been a wallflower. Or a governess.
A woman who most definitely did not garner attention from outrageously attractive males with hazel eyes, a lean body sculpted with muscle and lips that would make most women think about hot kisses and raunchy sex.
Jenn, though? She really just wanted to wipe the smirk from those sinful lips and not be aware of that muscled body.
“Stitches make you squeamish?”
Matt’s voice was deep and seductive, like the promise of silk sheets, dark chocolate and a bottle of wine. She steeled herself against it, knowing that he was all too aware of his…potency.
“Yes.”
He sighed. “You’re a strange woman, Jenn McDonnell.”
She snorted, watched Owen as he lined up to pocket the eight ball. “I’m strange? You’re the one walking around with half of your head shaved.”
“It’s different. I like it.”
“Or you just haven’t gotten to a stylist yet.” She somehow doubted he was a Super Cuts sort of guy.
Owen sank the eight ball and asked, “You up for another game?”
“Nah. I’m gonna go grab another drink, make sure Jo and Chase haven’t mauled each other by now.”
Jenn made her way through the bar, set her empty glass on a table holding other discarded drinks, and headed for the ladies’ room. She sang along as the DJ switched from Josh Abbott Band’s “Oh, Tonight” to “Fuzzy” by The Randy Rogers Band. The song’s tale of drunken escapades always made her think of The Hangover, which never failed to make her smile.
She finished up in the bathroom and walked out to the main bar area, didn’t see Jo and Chase and figured they’d stepped out to the back patio to get some air. She stepped up to the bar, ordered another margarita and walked back to the pool tables.
There were three women surrounding Matt, the same three that had fluttered around him when Jenn and Jo had first arrived. They’d scattered, but apparently had decided that Jenn and Jo weren’t competition.
Jenn stayed back, sipped her margarita as the fake redhead with fake boobs leaned into Matt and trailed her fingers down his chest and towards the waist band of his jeans. Owen caught her eye, shook his head as he lined up a shot. Jenn stifled a giggle.
The redhead’s fingers trailed lower, dipped inside Matt’s jeans. Jenn saw him roll his eyes before removing the redhead’s hand. She couldn’t hear what he said, but apparently Ms. Wandering Fingers wasn’t too happy about it, if the mulish expression on her face was any indication.
She was stifling laughter when she felt a tap on her shoulder, turned around and saw Jo, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright and hair slightly mussed. Jenn raised her eyebrows.
“I, uh, feel a migraine coming on. Chase is going to take me home. I’ll see you later.”
“Migraine, huh?” Jenn teased.
Jo’s blush deepened, but Jenn could tell she was trying not to smile. “Yeah. A migraine.”
Jenn laughed and hugged her best friend. “Well, I hope you find a way to get rid of it.”
Jo did laugh then, before turning and walking away. Jenn looked down at her margarita, contemplating the sugar crystals on the rim of the glass as a smile tugged at her lips.
Looked like she’d been right about those fireworks tonight.
~~*~~
Matt watched the exchange between Jo and Jenn, vaguely aware of the three women surrounding him. He’d never been a huge fan of jersey chasers to begin with, but having them surround him in his hometown seemed like a little too much even for him to take right now. Jo shook her head at something Jenn said, and Matt noted the tousled hair, swollen lips and beard burn on her neck.
Looked like little brother was finally going to score.
At least someone was.
Disgusted with his self-pitying thoughts, because, really, he was one of the best pitchers in the league with a healthy bank account, wise investments and women at his beck and call if he wanted them, Matt breathed deeply and tuned back in to the jersey chasers currently trying to score with him.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
Even if he’d been interested, the doctor had specifically told him no sex. Apparently repetitive motions and strenuous activities could still cause complications with the damned head wound.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“So, Mattie, how ‘bout we go back to my place?” The brunette—Kara or Katie or Karma—asked with a pout as she trailed an index finger over his left bicep. “We could play pitcher and catcher, if you know what I mean.”
Jesus. Talk about a bad pickup line. “Thanks but, uh, no thanks.”
“Oh, come on, Mattie. It’ll be fun. Jeanine could join us if you like.” The brunette batted her eyelashes at him. Matt couldn’t remember which one Jeanine was, nor did he really care.
“Sorry. But I can’t. Doctor’s orders.” He shrugged, adopted an innocent expression and hoped like hell it worked. Despite not liking jersey chasers, he only got tough on them when he had to.
Kara/Katie/Karma lifted up onto her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’ll let you do me any way you want, Mattie. My pussy’s dripping wet and aching for that cock of yours.”
She nipped his ear lobe before lowering herself to her normal height, bit her lower lip and looked up at him with big green eyes. Matt sighed. Time to play hardball, apparently.
Normally, he would have someone with him he could pawn the girls off on—whether it be Darrin, a teammate, or a friend who was more than willing to take one for the team. Tonight, though, he had Owen—a guy he knew would be more likely to crack a joke than show any interest in any of the three women—and Jenn, who he was pretty sure would outright refuse to help him, especially after what had happened the last time she’d assisted in a Jersey Chaser Extraction.
Feeling somewhat hopeful, despite the feeling in his gut, he looked up and caught Jenn’s gaze, mouthed, “Help me” and hoped like hell she’d put that last Extraction behind her.
~~*~~
About the Author
Aubrey has been reading and writing since she was about two and a half and has been an avid romance reader since she read her first romance novel in the 6th grade. She wrote her first novel in high school. It was an awful imaginative historical romance that involved a cross-country trip via covered wagon, and maybe some Indians. She thinks it’s still on a floppy disk somewhere (DOS computer, y’all), but can’t be too sure. These days, she writes contemporary romance with a lot of humor and sass and characters that have issues.
She graduated from Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program with a Master of Arts in 2008. When she’s not writing, she can be found with her husband and their two dogs at home in Austin, on their ranch in west Texas, watching a football or baseball game, or with her nose stuck in a (usually virtual) book.
Connect with Aubrey
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Newsletter
Copyright © 2015 by Aubrey Gross
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book layout © 2015 Aubrey Gross
Book cover © 2015 by Aubrey Gross
Between the Seams/Aubrey Gross -- 1st ed.
Epub Edition April 2015 ISBN: 978-0-9962821-0-9
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-9962821-1-6
