Page 70 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“That you did.” I offer him up a small clap because he deserves it. “But now they know what you can do, which means it’s my turn.” I point to my chest. “They won’t expect it. They’re going to be going for you or Jude. So, toss me the ball and watch us win this sucker.”
Once again, he ignores me and focuses on the players in front of us. Okay, he’s in game mode, that’s fine. Let him do his thing.
Reginald tosses the ball and this time, Beatrice gets it and, man oh man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brody take off like he did because he sprints across the sand, like one of those lizards who can run on water, and leaps toward Beatrice, reaching for her flag just as she tosses the ball to Hardy, who then chucks it down the field to Hudson who is cherry-picking at the bin. He catches it and tosses the ball in.
That was painful to watch.
Brody stands from where his arms and legs are buried in the fine white sand and he brushes himself off as he approaches me.
“You almost took out the old lady—good job.”
“Your commentary isn’t needed,” he mutters as he pushes his hand through his hair.
“Is it not helping?” I ask.
His angry eyes fall to mine. “Not even a little.”
“And here I thought I was being charming,” I say.
Reginald holds the ball up and says, “If the blue team scores, they win.”
“Hear that?” I say, nudging him with my elbow. “Toss me the ball. The boys will be out for blood. They won’t hurt a little old thing like me.”
Brody ignores me and gets into position. Reginald tosses the ball in the air, and Brody and Jude both go for it, but Jude picks it up first. He starts down the field, but Hudson and Hardy crowd him so he tosses the ball to Haisley who then tosses it to Brody. Brody tucks the ball and starts to drive forward but Hudson and Hardy come screaming toward him. I dash forward and clap my hands together, telling him to toss it to me.
He glances at the boys one more time and then—reluctantly—tosses me the ball.
I catch it like freaking Jerry Rice in his heyday and I prop out my stiff arm, ready to block these motherfuckers—oh yes, my stiff arm brings out the swear words.
“Look out, the Maggie train is coming through. Toot. Toot!” I yell right before I start to run, only to stop after two steps when I see both Hardy and Hudson charging toward me, like I’m the red flag and they’re two bulls fresh from the stalls, looking to kill.
Snarling.
Huffing.
Barreling toward me with no regret.
I’ve never seen anything more terrifying in my life.
And I realize in that moment, Brody was right. My arm will be broken if I try to use it.
So out of pure self-preservation, I scream bloody murder and chuck the ball, not wanting to be the victim of a Hopper takedown.
Unfortunately for Brody though, I wasn’t quite looking where I was throwing and neither was he.
Because low and behold, my chucking of the ball results in a direct hit, right to his penis.
Brace for impact, because man down!
Brody stills, clutching his crotch, and then tips over into the sand as a look of pure nausea rolls over his face.
What.
Have.
I.
Done?
