fucking freezing outside!” Not to mention she was trying to stay away from him until she got her hormones under control.
“Which is why, like everyone else, you’ll be bundled up nice and tight.”
“I am not—”
“You are,” he stated flatly, waving a hand through the air.
Harper’s eye started to twitch. “Because I’m merciful, I’ll give you a ten-second head start to get out of my sight.”
Standing, he tossed down the magazine and folded his arms across his chest. “You want me outta your hair for the next two and a half weeks?”
Intrigued now, even as her stomach flipped—not liking the idea of him being anywhere aside from near her—Harper lifted both brows and signaled for him to continue.
“You play softball and win, I’ll stay with Owen and Janet, subjecting myself to God knows what visually and mentally, and never even bringing up what happened last night,” Konstantine finished.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “And if I lose?”
“You spend Valentine’s Day with me.”
Head dropping back, Harper groaned. “Not this shit again, Koz.”
“ Yes, this shit again.” He moved past her and started down the hall. “Be ready in ten minutes, or I swear to God I will come back and you will not like me. I can’t force you into bed with me again—I’d never even think it—but you’re not gonna keep hiding from me.”
Harper mocked him under her breath in a tone that didn’t even come close to resembling his voice.
“What was that?” Konstantine shouted from down the hall.
“Nothing!” she yelled back, stepping into her room and closing her door. Flopping down on her mattress face-first, she grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, kicking her feet.
“Feel better now?” he called out.
“Shaddup!”
***
He was being an asshole and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. Backing Harper into a corner was liable to get him one of two places—the hospital if she came out swinging or right where he wanted them to be. Therefore, Konstantine took a chance. And as he watched her come waddling down the stairs, no doubt trying to readjust her body to the feel of long johns and several layers along with a parka, he knew it would be more than worth it to freeze his balls off playing with a few crumbsnatchers.
Konstantine stood and shook out his left leg, praying his cup stayed in the right place. It wouldn’t be hard to warm up after being outside for an hour or two, but he’d damn sure be fucked if he got hit in the groin with that ball.
***
She was getting really sick of this feeling, of waiting on edge, mild panic taking over. Harper could hear the slow chant of her name as she stepped up to the plate.
“Yo, Sweets!” Konstantine called out from the pitcher’s mound. Several of the kids on the field giggled.
Her eyes narrowed on him as he shouted, “You lose this game and you’re mine on Friday night!”
Her heart jumped at the words. Harper wanted to be his in every way imaginable, but those thoughts would lead her down a path that could destroy every single brick in their friendship. So instead of replying she held up three fingers and yelled back, “Read between the lines, Vetrov!”
With a loud chuckle, he wound up, and she got her bat into position. When he released the ball, she watched every millisecond of its progression towards her and, right at the last moment, she swung. With a smirk, Harper watched the ball fly back toward the field, shielding her eyes as it rolled effortlessly through the air, going and going and going until...it landed in the mitt of some kid she would swear on everything was Mitch Russo’s son.
“Jesus Christ!” Harper shouted, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine crowed, throwing his hands up in the air.
As their teams left the field—the very one she’d played on as a kid—he strolled towards her, hair escaping from his knit cap, those goddamn eyes twinkling. With a wide smile, he repeated the words that
“Which is why, like everyone else, you’ll be bundled up nice and tight.”
“I am not—”
“You are,” he stated flatly, waving a hand through the air.
Harper’s eye started to twitch. “Because I’m merciful, I’ll give you a ten-second head start to get out of my sight.”
Standing, he tossed down the magazine and folded his arms across his chest. “You want me outta your hair for the next two and a half weeks?”
Intrigued now, even as her stomach flipped—not liking the idea of him being anywhere aside from near her—Harper lifted both brows and signaled for him to continue.
“You play softball and win, I’ll stay with Owen and Janet, subjecting myself to God knows what visually and mentally, and never even bringing up what happened last night,” Konstantine finished.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “And if I lose?”
“You spend Valentine’s Day with me.”
Head dropping back, Harper groaned. “Not this shit again, Koz.”
“ Yes, this shit again.” He moved past her and started down the hall. “Be ready in ten minutes, or I swear to God I will come back and you will not like me. I can’t force you into bed with me again—I’d never even think it—but you’re not gonna keep hiding from me.”
Harper mocked him under her breath in a tone that didn’t even come close to resembling his voice.
“What was that?” Konstantine shouted from down the hall.
“Nothing!” she yelled back, stepping into her room and closing her door. Flopping down on her mattress face-first, she grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, kicking her feet.
“Feel better now?” he called out.
“Shaddup!”
***
He was being an asshole and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. Backing Harper into a corner was liable to get him one of two places—the hospital if she came out swinging or right where he wanted them to be. Therefore, Konstantine took a chance. And as he watched her come waddling down the stairs, no doubt trying to readjust her body to the feel of long johns and several layers along with a parka, he knew it would be more than worth it to freeze his balls off playing with a few crumbsnatchers.
Konstantine stood and shook out his left leg, praying his cup stayed in the right place. It wouldn’t be hard to warm up after being outside for an hour or two, but he’d damn sure be fucked if he got hit in the groin with that ball.
***
She was getting really sick of this feeling, of waiting on edge, mild panic taking over. Harper could hear the slow chant of her name as she stepped up to the plate.
“Yo, Sweets!” Konstantine called out from the pitcher’s mound. Several of the kids on the field giggled.
Her eyes narrowed on him as he shouted, “You lose this game and you’re mine on Friday night!”
Her heart jumped at the words. Harper wanted to be his in every way imaginable, but those thoughts would lead her down a path that could destroy every single brick in their friendship. So instead of replying she held up three fingers and yelled back, “Read between the lines, Vetrov!”
With a loud chuckle, he wound up, and she got her bat into position. When he released the ball, she watched every millisecond of its progression towards her and, right at the last moment, she swung. With a smirk, Harper watched the ball fly back toward the field, shielding her eyes as it rolled effortlessly through the air, going and going and going until...it landed in the mitt of some kid she would swear on everything was Mitch Russo’s son.
“Jesus Christ!” Harper shouted, throwing down her bat.
“Yes!” Konstantine crowed, throwing his hands up in the air.
As their teams left the field—the very one she’d played on as a kid—he strolled towards her, hair escaping from his knit cap, those goddamn eyes twinkling. With a wide smile, he repeated the words that
Similar Books
