Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  “I’m sorry Randy gave you shit. I wasn’t thinking—”

  “No, it’s fine. Really.” She smiled and reached over, placed her hand on his where it rested against the center console. He looked so worried, so unsure. She squeezed his hand and smiled again. “He’s just being Randy, don’t worry about it.”

  “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I mean, I understand, I’m cool with that if you changed your mind.”

  He looked so unsure, so lost and uncertain that Val’s heart melted just a little more. Trouble, definitely trouble. It didn’t matter if he was trouble, she wanted that frown to disappear, wanted to see that boyish smile on his face, no matter how dangerous it was.

  She leaned over and cupped his cheek, felt the smoothness of his freshly-shaved jaw beneath her palm. Then she pressed her mouth against his, softly, the kiss meant to be nothing more than gentle reassurance. He stiffened, for just a second, then wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, his mouth opening under hers, his tongue suddenly dancing with her own.

  He tasted like mint and spice and something else, something sweet and heady. What was meant as nothing more than reassurance exploded, deepened, unleashing a fiery need that uncoiled inside her.

  Justin Tome was so much more than trouble. Val didn’t know why, didn’t understand this sudden effect he had on her or why she wanted to be with him. What she did know was that if not for the large center console, she’d be climbing into his lap right now, spectators be damned.

  Maybe Justin knew that, maybe he sensed what she wanted. Or maybe he just had more common sense than she did because he pulled away with a small groan, his breathing harsh.

  At least she wasn’t the only one suddenly having trouble catching her breath. She cleared her throat and lowered herself back in the seat, squirming to get comfortable. “I didn’t change my mind.”

  “Good. That’s, uh, good. Okay. We’re still on. Good.” Justin shifted in his own seat with a small groan she barely heard, would have missed if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. He shifted again then looked over at her. And there was that boyish smile that curled one corner of his mouth, that lit his eyes and made him so much more dangerous.

  “Were you in the mood for anything special? For dinner, I mean. Food.” He cleared his throat and looked away, shifted in the seat once more, looked back at her. “I wasn’t sure what you might want to eat.”

  Was it her imagination, or did another blush darken his cheeks, just the smallest bit? Val couldn’t be sure, not with the shadows filling the car. She bit the inside of her cheek for just a second, stopping herself from saying something inappropriate, something guaranteed to make her blush as well.

  “Actually, I have been having a huge craving for pizza. With lots of gooey cheese.” She frowned, pulling on her lower lip. “I guess you can’t do junk food though, can you? Especially with playoffs coming up.”

  Justin laughed, the sound a little rough but not quite forced. “Considering what I’ve been doing the last few months, I doubt if a couple slices of pizza for one night are going to hurt me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want—”

  “I’m positive.” He gave her another smile then put the truck in gear. “And I know just the place for the perfect slice.”

  Chapter Eight

  Justin wedged himself further into the corner, his gaze darting across the crowd before resting once more on Val. She sat across from him, her long black hair pulled over one shoulder, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she watched the crowd. She looked out of place, a little too overdressed in a blue-and-black patterned flowing sweater and trim black slacks in a crowd of mostly jeans and sweatshirts.

  What was he thinking, bringing her here for oversized greasy pizza instead of somewhere nice? She deserved expensive entrees on fancy china, not greasy pizza on paper plates.

  Even if pizza had been her idea.

  He still couldn’t believe she had agreed to dinner with him. Hell, he was still having trouble believing that night in her office was real and not some kind of alcohol-induced fantasy. Except he hadn’t been drinking that night, had been stone cold sober.

  He was stone cold sober now, too. Justin looked over at the counter, at the large plastic cups and buckets and beer tap. Cold beer would be perfect with the pizza, so perfect, his mouth damn near watered. He’d almost ordered some when he ordered the pizza, not thinking anything of it. What was more natural than cold beer and hot pizza? But Val had looked at him, with some kind of almost-knowing expression in her wide hazel eyes. Then she turned to the kid behind the counter and ordered two large iced teas. He hadn’t wanted to correct her, hadn’t want to disappoint her. And that’s what it would have felt like, if he had ordered beer, like he was disappointing her.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Val moved on the plastic bench across from him, shifting so she could bring her left leg up and tucking it underneath her. “I can’t believe this place is still open. And still so busy.”

  “You’ve been here before?” Justin wanted to smack himself as soon as the question left his mouth. Of course she’d been here before, that much was obvious.

  “Not in years. Probably at least…” She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, looking up toward the cracked tile ceiling. “Wow. I bet it has to be at least five years. It doesn’t look like anything’s changed, either.”

  Justin looked around again, studying everything with a more critical eye. Plain Formica tables, most of the tops sporting some chips or cracks. Red hard plastic benches flanked most of the tables, with a scattering of black metal chairs with red upholstered seats here and there. The floor was linoleum tile, showing age and wear.

  Simply called The Pizza Joint, it wasn’t a place that would stand out, not here at the Inner Harbor. Not anywhere, really. It looked like nothing more than a typical neighborhood pizzeria: one giant room filled with tables, a counter with a register near the back wall, several ovens and a stainless steel counter behind that. Metal shelves stood off to the side, piled high with white cardboard boxes, ready to go for the next order.

  But the line wrapped along the wall and out the door, mostly college students or young couples waiting to order a slice to go. They had been lucky to get a table, probably because Val damn near ran for it, beating out a group of kids barely old enough to drink.

  “Well hopefully the pizza is just as good as you remember.”

  “If it’s even half as good as this place smells, I’ll be in heaven.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. The gesture was so sudden, so unexpected and so foreign, that he nearly jumped. “Thanks again for indulging me. I know this isn’t exactly on your approved menu.”

  Justin wanted to tell her it didn’t matter, wanted to admit to her that he hadn’t been adhering to any menu, approved or otherwise, for the last several months. Not when it came to drinking. But he didn’t, because he didn’t want to see disappointment in her eyes, didn’t want to see anything but that sparkling excitement she had when she was looking at him.

  Like he really wasn’t some complete fuck-up.

  And then the kid walked up to their table, carrying their pizza and a metal stand to sit the tray on. Val squeezed his hand once more then let it go, and the moment was gone.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Here he was, sitting across from a beautiful, completely hot woman that turned his entire world upside down, and he was thinking about voices from the past? Thinking about all those years when he never quite measured up?

  When he still didn’t quite measure up, even now?

  Fuck. He had to stop this. Now. If he didn’t, he’d end up in a never-ending downward spiral, with no way to climb back up. He didn’t want that. Hell, he didn’t need that.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with pizza?”

  “Hm?” Justin shook the memories and the doubt away and focused on Val. She was watching him, he
r delicate brows lowered in a frown, concern etched on her finely sculpted face.

  “The pizza. Are you sure this is okay? We can go somewhere else.”

  “No, this is great. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You just got this sudden look on your face, like the pizza was upsetting your stomach or something before you even had any.”

  “Sorry. I guess I was thinking of something else.” He forced a smile to his face, felt it relax into a real one. Val’s gaze was steady on his, her eyes so wide, the hazel color almost green in the light. She tilted her head, watched him for a few more seconds, then relaxed and nodded. Then she reached for the small stack of paper plates and grabbed a slice of pizza, the melted cheese pulling away in long strings. She pulled the cheese with her fingers, snapping it then looping it back onto the plate, and passed it to him.

  Justin took the plate and sat it in front of him, then grabbed the large plastic cup of iced tea and took a sip. He must be thirstier than he realized, because the cup was almost empty. He shook it, hearing nothing but ice banging against the sides.

  “Looks like I need a refill. Did you need more?”

  Val checked her own cup and shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

  He nodded and slid off the bench, the cup in his hand. The fountain machine was less than eight feet away, just at the end of the long counter. Two young guys were ahead of him, taking their time, mixing every flavor of soda in their cups. Justin waited, his attention sliding to the register.

  To the beer tap just behind the counter.

  What would it hurt? Just one beer. It wasn’t like he was going to get wasted if he had one beer with his pizza. He glanced behind him but Val was sitting with her back to him. Would she notice?

  Fucking idiot. Yes, she’d notice. Especially if she decided to kiss him again, like she had in the truck. And Justin was hoping like hell that she’d kiss him again. If he was lucky, if tonight kept going well and he didn’t do anything stupid, there’d definitely be more kisses.

  Maybe more than just kisses.

  He looked once more to the beer tap then shook his head. Christ, was he really that hard up? That desperate? Fuck. He couldn’t be, didn’t want to think what it meant if he was.

  He shook his head again and turned away, his attention on the soda fountain and the two guys starting to walk away. One of them tripped, almost knocking into him, and Justin caught the strong whiff of stale alcohol before the kid righted himself. His buddy laughed, the sound too loud, too raw.

  Justin watched as they stumbled away, obviously drunk. He shook his head and placed his own cup under the iced tea spout, muttering to himself about kids who couldn’t handle their alcohol.

  And then he realized that had been him, only a few nights ago. Him, so drunk and out of it that Val had carried him to her own place. So drunk that he’d actually gotten sick, all over himself.

  So drunk that Val had to clean it up.

  Justin’s hand started shaking, enough that tea sloshed over the rim of the cup and covered his hand. He sat the cup down with a curse and searched for napkins, finally finding some and drying off his hands. He cleaned up the mess on the counter then wadded the wet napkins into a ragged ball and tossed them into the nearby trashcan.

  Then he stood there, his hands gripping the counter, his head bent low as he breathed. Deep, even breaths, in and out.

  Fuck. It had only been a few days. How could he have forgotten that?

  Because he didn’t want to remember, that’s how. Because it was so much easier to just put it out of his mind and forget about it, pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend it had been someone else.

  He took another deep breath then looked over his shoulder. Why was Val even with him? Why was she here, having dinner with him after what he’d done? Hell, how could she even stand to be around him?

  Justin grabbed his cup and headed back to the table, each step slow and heavy, the heels of his boots a hollow thud against the linoleum tile. Christ, he was stupid. So fucking stupid.

  He slid onto the bench across from Val and grabbed the pizza, bringing it to his mouth and taking a large bite before he said anything. He couldn’t talk with his mouth full, couldn’t say something stupid, something he’d regret.

  Couldn’t ask her if this was a pity date. If the other night was nothing more than a pity fuck.

  The thought that she was with him now, here, out of pity turned his stomach.

  The pizza turned to cardboard in his mouth, the cheese too gritty, the sauce too sour. He tried to swallow and felt it lodge in his throat, choking him. He coughed, squeezed his eyes shut and coughed again, pounding his own fist against his chest. He grabbed the cup and took a long swallow, wishing for the cold yeasty taste of beer instead of sweet iced tea.

  Justin opened his eyes, surprised to see Val half out of her seat, leaning across the table and reaching for him. Her normally fair skin was even paler, her eyes wide with concern. He looked down, surprised to see her hand wrapped around his wrist, her fingers long and tapered, the manicured nails polished a pale pink.

  Justin pulled his arm away, dislodging her hold on him, and shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t look fine. Do you need me to get—”

  “I’m fine. Just…eat your pizza.”

  Val sat back down, frowning. But she didn’t reach for her pizza, just watched as he took another bite of his own, like she expected him to choke again.

  “Seriously, I’m fine. You don’t need to keep watching me, like I need your help again.” The words came out too sharp, too bitter. Val sat up straighter, the color draining from her face as she stared at him.

  “Excuse me?”

  Shit. What the hell was his problem? What was he doing? He dropped the half-eaten slice of pizza onto the plate then leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. When had he become such an asshole? When had he decided to deliberately self-destruct?

  And why in the hell was he taking it out on Val?

  Justin took a deep breath and held it, let it out slowly as he pressed his thumbs into his temple. Yeah, of course the headache would come back right now, right when he least needed it.

  He looked up at Val, not surprised to see her sitting there watching him, her face carefully blank, cold shadows filling her eyes. Yeah, he was an ass. Worse. And if he didn’t say something quick, didn’t find the right words to make this right, he deserved to be called a fuck-up.

  He wanted to reach across the table and grab her hand, run his thumb across her knuckles as he tried to find the right words. But the pizza was in the middle of the table, in the way. It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, because Val’s arms were folded across her chest, her hands digging into the flesh of her biceps as she just stared at him.

  “Val, I’m sorry. I just—” He shook his head and blew out another deep breath then looked toward the ceiling. “Shit, I am such a fucking idiot.”

  “I won’t argue with you on that one.”

  His gaze shot to hers. He wanted to apologize for the language, to tell her he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It didn’t matter. She had heard him anyway, and maybe it was better that she had.

  “I just—I was over there getting a refill, and these two guys were in front of me, and they reeked. You could tell they were drunk. And I almost made fun of them, about how they couldn’t handle their alcohol. And then—” He paused, taking a deep breath. Val was still watching him, her gaze never leaving his. And he wanted to look away, almost afraid of what he’d see in her eyes. But he didn’t.

  “And then I remembered that was me a few nights ago. That you had to carry me inside. That I was so drunk I got sick all over myself and you had to clean it up.” Fuck, why the hell had his voice just cracked? He cleared his throat and finally looked away. “And then I couldn’t understand why you’d even be here with me after that, and figured it must be out of pity.”

  Justin risked another look at her, just a quick one. Her arms were no lon
ger crossed in front of her but other than that, she hadn’t moved. And he couldn’t read her expression, couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He took another deep breath and looked away, figuring he may as well finish, give her an out in case she needed one.

  “And if that’s the reason you’re here, because you feel sorry for me, then let me know and I’ll take you home.”

  He held his breath, waiting, still afraid to look at her. Time froze, the crowd around them disappearing, the loud conversation fading to a meaningless hum in the background. Hope started to grow, just a tiny flicker that he was too afraid to acknowledge.

  And then he heard her move, looked over to see her sliding across the bench. Justin’s stomach clenched when she stood and that tiny flicker of hope died, blinked out in the space of a heartbeat. He tried to swallow back his disappointment and hoped to hell what he was feeling didn’t show on his face.

  Yeah, he should have known better. Should have known someone like Val would only be interested in him out of pity.

  Something nudged him in the side and he looked up, not really understanding what he was seeing. Or maybe he was just seeing things, because Val was sliding in next to him, nudging his leg with hers until he moved over.

  She reached across the table and slid her plate over in front of her without looking at him. She took a small bite and chewed, swallowed. Then she blotted her mouth with one of the paper napkins and took a sip of her tea. And then, finally, she looked over at him. Just looked, her wide hazel eyes clear, her delicate brows raised as she motioned to his own pizza.

  “You should finish eating before it gets cold.”

  And that was it. No comment about what he had just said, no mention of the other night. Justin wasn’t sure what to do, couldn’t even think of anything to say.

  Which was probably best, considering he seemed to make things worse every time he opened his mouth.

  He watched the woman next to him for a few seconds: the tilt of her head as she took a small bite, the slight movement of her delicate jaw and neck when she chewed and swallowed. The fall of her thick black hair, the ends swinging against the middle of her back each time she moved.