Page 85 of Under Pressure
“No!” she hisses, drawing a few curious glances. Her cheeks flush, and she lowers her voice. “They take bingo really seriously here. If you interrupt them, they might make us stand at the front for target practice or something.”
“Good to know.”
“Maybe we can just sit somewhere else for now?—”
“Quinn!”
My brows shoot up high on my forehead at the loud voice. Quinn mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like “so much for wanting quiet.” Ruthie’s standing at an overflowing table smack dab in the middle of the hall, her hand cutting through the air excitedly. I grin at her and head her way, forcing a reluctant Quinn to follow.
“And Beck,” Ruthie adds once we get close enough that she doesn’t have to yell. “You’re both here. And don’t you look darling together. Isn’t that right, Rox? Aren’t they a gorgeous couple?”
The woman beside her with dark brown skin and electric-blue eyes immediately reaches for Ruthie’s hand. There’s a glimmer of something in her gaze that has my grin wanting to wander into smug smirk territory. Between her and Ruthie, I’m thinking we don’t need to put on a show.
We’re believable enough without having to try.
“They are gorgeous,” Ruthie’s friend states with a confident nod. “It’s no wonder she didn’t want your grandson. We both know he doesn’t compare.”
“Don’t insult my grandbaby, Rox. He’s sweet when he wants to be. And I’ve got no doubt that a good girl will whip him into better shape.”
“What a glowing review. I’m so disappointed that I missed out there.” Quinn rolls her eyes, the right side of her mouth tipping up.
“Oh, forget it. Just sit with us, and I’ll get the two of you sorted. You can use my extra dabbers. Oh, and Beck, you had a great game today. We were all cheering you on. How fast does your fastball get? I couldn’t make out the speed on the screen from my table. My eyes are worse for wear now, and Phil lost the remote, so we couldn’t turn up the volume.”
Excitement pricks my skin. “I’m not quite back to where I was last season yet, but I’m topping out at ninety-six right now.We’ve been focusing more on my splitter than any of my other pitches right now.”
“I can tell!” I hear someone say from a table over.
Quinn makes a low noise in the back of her throat, drawing my eyes. It takes all of a millisecond to spot her humour. Her nose twitches, and the corner of her right eye tightens the same way it does when she teases me about being vain. Searching her face for tiny tells is growing to be quite the addictive pastime.
I release her hand only so I can slip my arm across her back instead, filling my palm with her soft hip. “It’s been going alright.”
“Don’t try to be modest. You’re the best player on the team. The crowd screamed even louder when you came out than they did when Kellan got a home run,” she blurts out, sounding almost angry.
It’s impossible to look away from her now. Not only is she glaring a hole at the floor, but the tip of her nose is fire-engine red, and the toe of her sneaker is smacking the floor at a quick pace. There’s no mistaking her comment as anything but honest. She’s just mad she let it slip.
I curl my pointer finger under the edge of her shirt and brush it along her warm skin. Goosebumps pebble beneath my touch, and I lower my head and press my nose to her crown, grinning. The last hour hasn’t stopped replaying in my mind, and touching her now isn’t helping drown those memories. Her moans, the feeling of holding her in my lap, against my chest, and watching as she came with our eyes locked. I’m still hard, which I’ve started to just accept is my body’s natural reaction to being around her. It’s awkward as fuck, considering we’re currently standing together in a bingo hall full of grannies, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
“Thanks, baby,” I whisper into her hair.
She exhales while her body leans further against me. “So, are we going to play bingo or what?”
“Not yet, we aren’t,” Ruthie argues, eagerly patting the seatbeside her. “Tell everyone how you met. They’re dying to know.”
My grin is instant. Pulling the chair out for Quinn, I watch her sit stiffly. The seat has a thin layer of cushion that sinks beneath my ass when I take the one beside her and cup her thigh. A dozen pairs of eyes have fallen to us now, watching and listening. Poor Quinn flushes and looks to me for help.
“Originally, we met in school, but when I found her again, I was on a coffee run for the team. The café we usually went to was closed, and after a quick Google search, I found Blank Page. And if anyone doesn’t know this place, you need to change that. Best coffee on the West Coast,” I boast, every word dripping with honesty.
Quinn leans into my body, loosening up bit by bit. “He was loud. Still is. I assumed he was just a douchebag jock coming in expecting me to comp his drinks or something.”
“But I didn’t. If I remember correctly, when I realized you didn’t know who I was, I kept it that way.”
“What a thoughtful king,” she teases, eyes rolling.
I pinch the inside of her thigh, dropping my mouth to her ear. “Yeah, I am. Do you need me to remind you of how considerate I am right here?”
She swallows, her skin burning through the fabric of her jeans and into my palm. I nip the tip of her ear before pulling back and winking at Rox.
“Anyway, I was so taken by Quinn that I kept coming back every day that I could. She refused to give me the time of day, though. No matter how hard I tried to sway her to go out with me,” I explain.
