Love After Hours

by Radclyffe

  “I’m not talking about the name, and you know it. You coach the Hammers?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you just decided on a whim to come to the game tonight because Joe’s been bugging you about it?”

  Gina’s smile widened, and Lord, it was a beautiful smile, full and wide and perfectly balanced by her tapered jaw, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. And she was staring again. Carrie bristled, irritated with herself for letting a handsome face muddle her brain. “Well?”

  “Joe has been bugging me to come out for one,” Gina said, “but, okay, I might have had an interest in seeing how your team looked.”

  “You mean you were scouting us.”

  “Tell me you’ve never done the same thing.”

  Carrie smothered a grin. “I might have taken in a couple of Houlihan’s games. But I haven’t seen any of yours.”

  “Well, we’re playing day after tomorrow. Why don’t you come on by and see what you think.” The words were out before Gina even had a chance to consider them. Inwardly, she wondered what the hell she was doing—inviting the competition to come and check out her team wasn’t exactly a smart coaching strategy. Added to that, inviting Carrie, or any other woman, to a game would be exactly the first time, ever, she’d done that. All the same, she held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  Carrie heard what sounded like a dare, and her natural competitive instincts kicked in. “You’re on.”

  “Game starts at six thirty. We play out on Belmont Plateau.”

  “I know where. I’ll make it if I can,” Carrie said, pulling back just a little, giving herself room to back out. “So what did you learn tonight?”

  “Joe hasn’t been exaggerating. You’ve got a good team. And a very hot pitcher.”

  Carrie pulled her lower lip between her teeth, refusing to flirt back, if that’s what Gina was doing. She couldn’t quite get her mind around why she would be, and decided after a few seconds to take the statement at face value. “Thank you. I hope you won’t be too disappointed this weekend.”

  “Why would I be?” Gina said, her voice dropping just a little.

  “You know, when you lose.”

  Gina grinned. “Feeling pretty confident.”

  “Well, we’ve got a great team.”

  “Maybe you should come scout us out before you get your hopes up.”

  “Don’t need to,” Carrie said, enjoying the banter. “I’ll bet you dinner we take three out of five.”

  “You’re on,” Gina said. “Winner gets to pick the place.”

  “Done.” Carrie finished her first beer and poured another half glass. She lifted the pitcher toward Gina. “Fill your glass?”

  Gina shook her head. “No, I’m driving and I’m done.”

  Carrie sipped her beer. “So why don’t you play?”

  “Can’t,” Gina said, her voice flat and hard. “My running days are over.”

  “Sorry,” Carrie said, remembering that brief instant when she’d noticed the stiffness in Gina’s gait. “Knee injuries are hell. Old ACL?”

  Gina gave her a long look. “Car accident.”

  Carrie’s chest tightened. “Oh, that’s hard. I’m really sorry.”

  “Long time ago,” Gina said with finality. Subject closed.

  Carrie got the message. “You know everyone here? I didn’t think to introduce you. Apologies.”

  Gina finished the last dregs of her beer and pushed the empty glass toward the center of the table. “No problem. I mostly came to talk to you.”

  Carrie drew a sharp breath. Really, were they back to the permits again? “Sorry. No business after hours.”

  “What makes you think I’m talking about work?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “If I wanted to push someone on that, I’d push your boss.”

  Carrie shifted, blocking Presley a little more from Gina’s view. Like that would actually help. “I told you I’m in charge of the project.”

  Gina sensed the wall come down. She recognized the tone from when Angie stonewalled an unreasonable vendor or overbearing client. Nobody got to be second in command, no matter what name they called themselves, without being very good at their job. “I didn’t come over to the table to talk about the job with anyone. Although I’m surprised you have a rule against it. You look like you’d be one to work twenty-four seven.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Nope. I’m highly efficient, so I don’t have to work around the clock.” She chuckled. “Even though my boss does, and keeping up with her is a challenge I take very seriously.”

  “So no business after hours is a personal rule?”

  “You might say that.” Carrie relaxed. “I’ll introduce you to Presley if you promise to abide by it.”

  Gina laughed. “Do I look like a rule breaker?”

  “Frankly, yes,” Carrie said sweetly.

  “I’ll behave.”

  Carrie nudged Presley, who was discussing the latest superhero movie with their left fielder, Angelo Gutierrez. From what Carrie could gather, the debate was whether Wonder Woman could beat Thor in a one-on-one. Presley made the point that Wonder Woman not only had more tools at her disposal, they were far more powerful than just a hammer. Angelo countered that when a man had a hammer, all the world was a nail.

  Laughing, Presley turned to Carrie. “Remind me not to debate movie heroes with anyone who works in the OR—they’re way too literal.”

  “Noted,” Carrie said. “Presley, this is Gina Antonelli. Joe’s sister.”

  Presley stretched a hand in front of Carrie to Gina. “Hi. Presley Worth. Good to meet you.”

  “Same here,” Gina said.

  “I met Tom Antonelli. Your father?”

  “Yes.” Gina wondered if Presley had that no business after hours rule and suspected she didn’t, but she’d already promised Carrie she wouldn’t go there. Nothing was going to happen until the morning anyhow. She could wait a few hours before pushing again. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

  Presley glanced at Carrie and nodded. “We’ll see that that happens as soon as possible.”

  “Appreciate it.” When Carrie visibly relaxed next to her, Gina was glad.

  “So, Pres,” Carrie said casually, “speaking of construction. Gina coaches the Hammers softball team.”

  Presley’s brows rose. “Really? Well, we’re all in for an interesting weekend.”

  Gina grinned. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “We do have an advantage,” Presley said, draping an arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “You’ve probably noticed.”

  “I might have,” Gina said.

  “She’s our ace,” Presley declared.

  “Little pressure, Pres?” Carrie said.

  “Like that ever bothered you.” Presley turned her head as Harper whispered something to her from her other side, and she nodded. “I think we’re headed out in a minute. Nice meeting you, Gina. We’ll talk again soon, I’m sure.”

  “Same here. And we will.” Gina glanced at Carrie as Presley and Harper called good-byes. “You’re going to have some pretty disappointed fans this weekend.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “You know that part about winner choosing the restaurant?”

  “Yeah.” Gina caught the glint in Carrie’s eyes, and her blood raced a little faster.

  “I ought to warn you to get your wallet ready.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’d never take you for a cheap date.”

  “It’s a bet,” Carrie said carefully. “Not a date.”

  Chapter Nine

  “That’s it for me too,” Flann said to the others at the table as Harper and Presley stood to leave. She put a twenty by the empty pitcher in the center and pushed back her chair. “Next round’s on me. See you all Friday night.”

  “Give me a call if you need anything.” Harper didn’t need to say she was talking about Blake. Flann understood the rest of the thought—she and Harper had been reading each other’s
minds since they were toddlers, being about as close as they could be without being actual twins. When she needed help, even when she didn’t know it, Harper was always there.

  “I will.” She’d stayed just long enough to celebrate the win, but her mind had only been half there. She wouldn’t have even gone to the game if Abby hadn’t insisted and if she hadn’t been comfortable Blake was doing okay. The surgery had gone as she’d expected, clean and quick. All the same, he was hers in a way that other patients weren’t, and a part of her wanted to be sitting at home with Abby, just being there for her and for him. But if she hadn’t played, Blake might have been worried that she was worried, and she and Abby had already talked things over. The best way for Blake to feel that what he’d done was exactly what he needed to do, and nothing out of the ordinary, was for them to behave as if the surgery was just that—one more step in his journey, no greater and no smaller than any other he had taken or would take in the future. And that with every step, they’d be there if he needed them, but their life would go on like every other family’s. His transition was part of their life, not the focal point of his life or theirs.

  All the same, she was happy to climb into her truck and drive the quick five minutes home. They were still in the old schoolhouse Abby had rented when she and Blake first came to town. They wouldn’t be there for much longer now, thankfully. She and Abby’d decided to move to their new place, a four-bedroom farmhouse on ten acres just at the edge of town, and live with renovations rather than wait any longer to find a contractor with an opening. As soon as Blake was feeling better, they’d make the move. Of course, that might get derailed by the wedding plans.

  Flann parked the truck in the narrow drive next to the white picket fence bordering the one-and-a-half-story white clapboard building. Thus far she’d escaped most of the wedding planning. Oh, she wanted to be married—she’d been the first to bring it up—not that she didn’t feel married now, but she wanted her family to be united in the eyes of her family and friends and the world. She wanted that for herself and Abby and Blake. The details she’d leave to Abby and just do what she was told and be where she needed to be. Perfect. Of course, Abby might have other ideas. In which case, she’d have to adjust hers.

  Smiling, Flann eased open the unlocked screen door and stole into the darkened living room. The only illumination came from the dim ceiling light in the kitchen at the far end of the main room. Their bedroom was off to the right, but Abby was curled up on the couch under an afghan.

  Stepping lightly, Flann ghosted across the room to the stairs and tiptoed up to the loft to peek in on Blake. She stopped at the top, narrowed her eyes, and took in the small space in a swift glance. Okay. That was unexpected. She backed down quietly.

  Abby sat upright on the sofa and ran both hands through her hair. Flann settled beside her.

  “Why is Margie in Blake’s bed?” Flann whispered.

  “Hi, honey.” Abby snuggled against her, one arm circling her waist. “She’s not in his bed, she’s on his bed. She came by after the game to give him a play-by-play, and when they’d finished celebrating the ass-kicking—Margie’s term, by the way—they put on a movie. I think it took about ten minutes for them both to fall asleep. I called your mother, so she knows where Margie is.”

  “Okay,” Flann said slowly. “So is that a good idea, do you think?”

  Abby kissed Flann. “I think you and I should go to bed and leave them alone.”

  “Yeah, but, you know…my sister, our son.”

  “There’s no blood between them, and let’s not jump the gun. They’ve spent plenty of time in his room or hers before.”

  “Yeah,” Flann muttered. “And they’re sixteen and you know what that means.”

  Abby ran her fingers through Flann’s hair and kissed her. “Thirtysomethings get horny too.”

  Flann’s mind went predictably blank. Instinct took over. “Right. Bedroom.”

  They closed the door and she wished for the thousandth time they were already in their new place, where Blake had a normal bedroom with a door of his own. Two doors between them were better than one, and holy hell, her sister was up there too. Blake wanted the same thing, although now that she thought of it, if her sister was going to end up behind the closed door, maybe…

  “You think we need to have a talk with them?” Flann asked, leaning back against the door.

  “You know,” Abby said, “I really love you.”

  Flann pulled off her jersey and the tank underneath it and tossed them onto the overstuffed chair by the window. “I know. What have I done?”

  Abby wore a T-shirt and loose cotton pants, and nothing else as far as Flann could see. Watching her approach with the moonlight at her back, her breasts moving gently beneath the thin cotton, made her mouth go dry and her insides boil. Reading her expression, Abby smiled and threaded her arms around Flann’s neck.

  “A lot of things, all of them good,” Abby said and kissed her again, pressing full-length against her.

  Flann groaned softly. She’d had a long day, and contrary to what she’d let on, a stressful one. All of that dropped away as the only reality became the taste and smell and sensation of Abby surrounding her. She pressed her face to Abby’s neck, scenting the shower gel she used—some combination of purple flowering things and soft breezes. “You always smell so good. And you feel better than anything I’ve ever known.”

  Abby reached between them and tugged on the waistband of Flann’s tight baseball pants. “You tired?”

  Flann laughed, clasping Abby’s hips. “Not hardly. I could probably use a shower, though.”

  “I don’t mind a little sweat.” Abby leaned back as Flann pushed her pants down. “You know, you don’t have to have the birds and the bees talk with him, but the fact you’re thinking about it just makes me love you even more.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about the baby-making so much, although one day I guess that will come up too,” Flann said, kicking free of the rest of her clothes. “I was thinking more about the emotional end of things. Because it’s complicated—they’re really tight, everybody knows that, but when you get physical, it changes things.”

  “It does, but they’re at that age where they’re going to want to explore.” Abby laughed a little. “Not that we ever actually outgrow that, but sometimes we learn a little restraint.”

  “Yeah?” Flann caught her around the waist, tugged her close, and propelled her over to the bed. When they tumbled down, she slid on top of her. “I haven’t noticed a lot of that around here.”

  Abby moaned and slid her leg around the back of Flann’s, drawing closer, heat to heat. “Maybe we should talk about the birds and the bees a little bit later.”

  “We’ll do that. Later.” Flann kissed her throat where the elegant curves dipped beneath her collarbone, slid a hand over her breast, and closed around the soft fullness of her. Abby arched beneath her, the press of her flesh an invitation, the strength of her fingers digging into Flann’s ass a demand.

  Now there were only the two of them, their hunger, their need, their wonder. Flann leaned on her elbows and bracketed Abby’s shoulders, enclosing her beneath her. Fitting her hips tight between Abby’s thighs, she rocked between her legs, watching the arousal build on her face.

  “I love you,” Abby murmured, closing her eyes as her body clamored for more, for everything. For an endless moment, she balanced on the brink of shattering. When Flann slid inside her, stroked the places that made her heart race and her body shudder, she caught her lip between her teeth, swallowed a cry. When the pleasure grew too big, too powerful to contain, she buried her face in Flann’s neck, muffling her cries.

  Flann gentled her caresses, stroking slow and deep. “Again,” she whispered.

  Abby laughed. “That was perfect. You’ll have to wait for round two.”

  “It’ll be hard, but I’ll try.” Flann chuckled, content. “You are so sexy I can’t stand it.”

  Abby gripped Flann’s hair, kissed h
er hard, and pushed until Flann rolled over. Abby leaned over her. “You’ll just have to stand it for a few more minutes.” She drew a finger down the center of Flann’s body, smiled as Flann stiffened and groaned softly. “Or…maybe we’ll just wait.”

  “I’ll do anything you want, just name it.”

  Laughing, Abby stroked lower, found the spot that always pushed Flann to the edge, and circled slowly. “Anything? I’ll have to give that some thought.”

  Flann gasped. “God, that feels good.”

  Abby’s chest tightened, the incredible wonder of knowing she could please her stopping the breath in her chest. She knew every nuance of Flann’s body now, and the knowing only heightened the desire. “I’m about to make it feel a lot better.”

  “God, yes. You are,” Flann choked out as the world went blindingly white.

  Abby wrapped Flann in her arms and pulled her head against her shoulder. She loved the moment when Flann lay unshielded, vulnerable except for her protection. Another place, another time, Flann would have been a warrior and she her shield. Abby kissed her. “I love you. I need you more than you know.”

  Flann tightened her arm around Abby’s waist. “You and Blake, you’re everything to me.”

  Abby pressed her cheek against Flann’s hair and closed her eyes. “We know.”

  *****

  As Presley and Harper prepared to leave the tavern, the rest of the group began to break up. Carrie said to Gina, “I’m headed out too. Early morning.”

  “Me too,” Gina said. “I’ll walk out with you.”

  As they rose together, Presley lifted a questioning eyebrow in Carrie’s direction. Carrie gave a subtle shake of her head. Gina was just being friendly.

  The parking lot was still half-full when they stepped outside. Gina paused just beyond the door, pointing left. “I’m over there.”

  “I’m that way.” Carrie indicated the opposite direction. “I’ve got your card. When I have an update—”

  “Wait. Stop.” Gina held up her hand. “No business after hours, right?”

  “You were listening.” Carrie smiled. “Is that a hardship for you?”