Page 15 of Hometown Halftime

I finish by taking Lee’s order and head for the kiosk behind the bar to send their order to the kitchen. When I return with drinks, Lee’s mid-story about an eighth-grade incident involving a trampoline in Darren’s backyard and a broken fence. Riley’s fighting a smile like he’s heard this a hundred times and still finds it funny.

I set Lee and Darren’s beers down, but as I move to set down Riley’s, Darren’s voice cuts through.

“So, Kinsey, Riley here—”

“Darren, don’t—” Riley cuts him off.

“Well, he’s single, ya know.”

Chapter six

Riley

Kinsey pauses after Darren’s comment. At that very moment I decided that he is now on my shit list.

“Um, okay,” Kinsey says, looking straight at me.

I can’t read her expression, but I can feel the embarrassment in mine. Looking away, she realizes that she’s still holding my bottle of beer.

Then everything happens in slow motion.

Her arm extends as her eyes find mine. I feel a rush of attraction, heat rising in my skin before the bottle hits the table.

Instead of standing properly, the bottle tilts as she withdrawals her hand. I look at the bottle, and in milliseconds, before either of us can stop it, it rocks and leans. A stream of beer sloshes out of the bottle, forcing it to fall, and the beer flows like a river—straight into my lap.

I startle, pushing my chair back, hands rushing to correct the bottle, but it’s too late. Beer soaks through the crotch of my jeans, cold against my skin, jolting me out of my Kinsey-induced fantasies.

“Shit!” she yells. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

I let out a laugh, more surprised than anything as I glance down at the dark stain spreading across my jeans.

“It’s okay, really—”

But she’s already gone, rushing back to the bar. Lee’s eyes are wide before he smiles.

“Oh my God,” he chokes, leaning back in his chair, laughter spilling out of him. “I swear this sort of shit only happens to you.”

Darren’s not far behind, shaking his head as he chuckles. “Man, did you see her, though? She didn’t even try to play it cool.”

“You guys are shit wingmen,” I say, but then I shake my head. “No, you guys are shit friends, she’s my coworker for fuck’s sake.”

Kinsey reappears a second later, moving fast, dropping a stack of towels into my hands before grabbing a couple herself.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, crouching to eye level with my crotch as she pats at my jeans. “That was—oh God, it’s spreading.”

With a wad of towels in her hands, she’s patting my thigh, dangerously close to my dick.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to stop her, because if she touches my dick right now, I might die.

But she keeps frantically patting, inching higher on my thighs until…

Yup, she’s cupping my dick.

Fuck. Me.

Blood rushes south and I need to stop it. I need to take my mind out of this situation, so I think of dead mice. Then I think of vampires because I hate vampires. They’re undead, and who the fuck would want to live forever if you had to drink blood to do it?

What if the vampires are carrying dead mice? Yup, that does it. No worries about an erection now. I just need to keep thinking of undead blood-drinking creatures carrying around little deceased rodents.