Page 47 of Playing to Win
“What’s that?”
Looking right into the camera, hoping Callie was watching the TV in their dressing room, said with a smile and a wink, “I’ll never tell.”
Thirty minutes later, after a scalding shower and some bonding victory time with his teammates, Kyle grabbed his phone, car keys, and wallet from his locker and headed out the door. He unlocked his phone and was about to call Curly when he heard a voice coming from behind him down the hall.
“Hey, handsome. Need help carrying all that?”
With a smile, Kyle turned slowly. “Depends on who’s asking. Who might you be?”
Callie walked over to him, a pair of skinny jeans hugging her hips and a skin-tight Kyle Kelly t-shirt reaching just to the edge of her jeans. If she lifted her arms an inch, Kyle would get a peek at the creamy skin of her stomach. Jeez, she was beautiful.
“Just a random girl looking for a hot, dimpled professional athlete to hang out with. Know of any?”
“I might be able to think of one or two. Want me to go in the locker room and ask if there’s anyone interested?”
Callie pretended to pout. He walked to where she was standing and made a full circle around her body. “I like your shirt, Curly. And the jeans. You look adorable in sweats and leggings, but this…it’s not good for me for you to look this good.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know other guys are going to be looking and I’ll want to punch them all in the throat.”
“Jealous much?”
“You have no idea. Now, ’fess up. Where’d you get the shirt?”
“This old thing? I feel sorry for the guy who has his name on it. No one seems to want to buy one of his shirts. They’ve got a buttload of them in the arena to buy. If he was that popular it seems like they would sell out.”
“I’ll buy them all for you if it means I get to see my name on you on a daily basis.”
“Macho much?”
“Nope. Just want everyone to know you’re mine.”
Callie threw her head back and laughed. “If everyone who wore one of your shirts was yours, you’d be in a relationship with half of America, including gray-haired old ladies and knobby-kneed old men. That makes no sense, Dimples.”
“Hold the phone. I think I just heard you say we are in a relationship.”
“I said no such thing,” Callie responded, her eyes wide.
“You said if everyone in America who wore one of my shirts was yours, I’d be in a relationship with half blah, blah, blah. You didn’t have to say it. It was insinuated.”
“Whatever.”
“Face it, Callie,” he said, walking slowly toward her until they were inches apart. He saw her breath hitch and her eyes go even wider than they already were. “I’ve gotten the winking emoticon. Our lips have met and want to become best friends. You dad loves me. Your friends love me. I’ve told you I was twitterpated and you practically agreed you were, too. Besides, didn’t you see tonight’s interview?”
With a gleam in her eye, Callie reached up on her tiptoes, put her lips centimeters from his ear and whispered, “I’ll never tell.”
With a groan, Kyle pulled her to his chest. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”
Callie laughed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a basketball player. You shouldn’t be able to quote a baseball movie.”
“Hey, The Sandlot is a classic.” He grabbed her hand, walking into the parking garage. “Where’s your car?”
“I let Cassie have it to go home. She said she had to study and I felt bad having her wait for me.”
“Aw, you waited for me? You really are twitterpated.”
Kyle was rewarded with a punch to his arm. Laughing, he opened the car door for her. “Before I drop you off at your apartment, you need to do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to come meet my cat.”
“Garth?”
“Yep. If we’re going to be in a relationship, my cat has to approve.”
