“Good morning, Trisha!” I greet.

  Trisha grins, her eyes concealed behind a pair of thick sunglasses. Her hair and makeup are perfect, as usual, along with the stylish blue and gray suit. “Good morning, Daisy,” she says.

  “Come on in!”

  She slides her sunglasses off as she crosses over, her eyes like bloodhounds. “Nice little place you have here,” she says.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  She spins back to us, then pauses, her eyes flicking between our faces. “My god, there’s two of you. How preposterous.”

  We chuckle. “Trisha, this is my sister, Rose,” I say. “We’re twins. Obviously.”

  Rose extends her hand. Trisha shakes it. “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Wells. I’m a big fan of your work.”

  “Hm.” Trisha eyes us both with a smile. “Interesting.”

  I gesture at the lump on the couch. “And this is—”

  “John Kirby,” Trisha finishes before I can introduce him. “Yes, of course I recognize you.”

  John doesn’t move. “Hey.”

  “You’re quite the sprinter, young man.”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  She grins, delighted.

  I nudge Rose toward the bathroom. “I was just finishing up here, Trisha. I only need five.”

  “Make it ten, honey.”

  “… Okay.”

  I try not to think about what she means by that as I pull Rose down the hall with me into the bathroom.

  She closes the door behind us and sighs. “Why did you tell her you lived here?” she asks.

  “Like I said,” I say as I reach into her stash of hair ties, pocketing one for later. “We don’t want her to know about us.”

  Rose nods once. “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t even know what this is yet. Also, I can’t even imagine how awkward that conversation is going to be. Not only am I dating her subject, I’m living with him and I’m pregnant with his kid.”

  “I see your point. Personally, I’d rip that bandage off early, but it’s your life.”

  “Thank you.” I sigh as I check myself over in the mirror. “So, how long did it take for you?” I ask.

  “How long did what take?” she asks as she fixes the back of my tuck.

  “John,” I say. “How long did it take before you fell in love with him?”

  “Oh. I don’t know. I guess that snuck up on me, but…”

  I wait. She says nothing. “But what?”

  “I thought I had a nugget of wisdom to throw down there, but that’s as far as I got.”

  I frown. “Weak.”

  The door opens and John barges inside, quickly closing it behind him.

  “What are you doing in here?” I ask, the space suddenly very cramped. “This is a private place.”

  “I’m hiding from that devil woman,” he says, shivering slightly.

  “What’d she do?” Rose asks.

  “Nothing. She’s just hovering. And staring. And making notes on her phone.”

  I scoff. “She’s a journalist. That’s what she does.”

  “Not in my living room, she doesn’t.” He squints at me. “Get rid of her. Now. Or I start throwing salt at her.”

  Rose rests a hand on his arm. “They’re leaving.” She smiles at me. “Have fun at work.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a nod. “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try. You’re living your dream! Just go enjoy it.”

  I take a breath, letting it sink in. She’s right, of course. My dream job — my dream life — is in the palm of my hand. All I have to do it grab it.

  I return to the living room, standing tall. Bright and confident. “Ready to go?” I ask Trisha.

  She smirks, her thumbs tapping away at her phone. “In a moment…”

  I linger, waiting for her to finish.

  Finally, she lowers the phone and drops it into her bag. “Daisy.”

  “Yes?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Hunter was last night, would you?”

  I blink. “No. Why?”

  “I called him,” she says.

  “You did?”

  “He never answered.”

  “He didn’t?”

  Come to think of it, he really didn’t. In fact, I never saw him check his phone once the entire time he was with me.

  I can’t stop the smile climbing my cheeks.

  “I had hoped to ask him a few follow-up questions… over a drink,” Trisha continues. “Someplace light and casual. I like to interact with my subjects in as many settings as possible — you never know what interesting tidbits might pop up at a bar or a funny cafe.” Her gaze lingers on me. “I thought, since you two are friends, that you might have known where he was.”

  I press my lips together, holding them steady. “Nope. Sorry.”

  Trisha shrugs. “You know, before I got the job at SI, I worked for one of those tabloids. Gossip mags. You know, the assholes who really dig into people’s personal lives.”

  “Yes, I know,” I say, growing nervous.

  “I guess the habit never really dies.” She chuckles. “I just get so… curious.”

  I swallow. “Sounds exhausting.”

  “In a good way,” she says with a wink. “Anyway, let’s get going. You have equipment check and I want to whisper into a few Bearhawk ears before we get on the bus. You never know what locker room secrets might spill out.”

  I follow her outside. Her. Trisha Wells. My boss.

  I ride with her to Chicago North University with a camera in my hand and a Sports Illuminated badge around my neck. Because I work for them now.

  I board a bus full of talented young athletes well on their way to earning a college baseball championship.

  I find a seat with a smile, hardly able to believe it.

  This really is my dream life.

  “Let me help with that.”

  A strong hand takes hold of my suitcase. Hunter raises it over his head to fit it into the bin above my seat.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He smiles.

  “Yoo-hoo! Hunter!” Trisha waves him over. “You’re next to me, honey. We have a lot to talk about today!”

  Hunter looks at me again, his eyes warm and focused, before he walks off to go sit next to her across the aisle.

  Wow.

  My dream life sure is complicated.

  CHAPTER 20

  DAISY

  April

  One thing I didn’t realize about the world of college athletics: they travel. A lot.

  Almost every other weekend there’s an away game, and sometimes they’ll toss one in the middle of the week just for the hell of it. These guys have to pack up and head out fast and hope to catch enough Zs between home and their destination to perform well. Factor in their classes, homework, and other commitments, and that doesn’t leave them with a lot of extra time to get to know the mothers of their illegitimate children.

  Or maybe that’s just an us problem.

  Hunter and I sit at the back of the bus, keeping our voices just below the dull rumble of the engine so we don’t disturb anyone around us — especially Trisha. Luckily, she’s currently using Dennis’ wide shoulder as a pillow and he’s got his nose buried in her fluffy hair. The rest of the team slumbers as well. They’ve certainly earned it. Another win in the books, another brick on the path to the college baseball championship in June.

  Go, Bearhawks.

  I swipe to the next photo on my phone. “Oh. This is our dad,” I say, angling it to show Hunter. The low light illuminates his handsome face as he studies the photo of me, Rose, and our father.

  “Wow, he looks nothing like you guys,” he says.

  “We got his eye color, but that’s about it. If you ask my mother, I’m the spitting image of him.”

  Hunter picks through his own photos while I swipe through mine. “How so?”

  “Reckless. Irresponsible.”

  “I see.”

  “I haven’t seen the man since our high school graduation.”

  He turns his phone toward me. “These are my parents.”

  I smile at the two goofballs grinning in baseball caps with homemade pendants with Go, Hunter! scrawled in colorful markers. “They look fun,” I say.

  “They are. Dad’s a veterinarian. Mom’s a librarian.”

  “I have this image of you in my head now,” I say. “Growing up out in the country with cows and a tire swing, mowing your neighbor’s lawns in the summer and helping old Miss Maggie down the road carry in her groceries.”

  “You know, that’s not too far off.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, except the cows.”

  “Never milked a cow?”

  “I have never touched a teat, no.”

  I laugh and swipe a little more through my photo library without looking.

  His jaw drops. “Oh, speaking of teats.”

  I wince, quickly twisting the phone away as I stumble through a few not-so prudish snapshots of myself. “Oh, those are just—”

  “No, let me see that—”

  He reaches for my phone, but I pull it away, trying to hold back the cackle in my throat.

  “No, no,” I whisper. “You don’t need to see—”

  Hunter yanks it from my grasp and grins at the screen with hungry eyes. “Oh, baby…”

  “Okay, fine.” I steal his phone from him. “I’m willing to bet you’ve got a few dick pics on here.”

  “Knock yourself out.” He tilts his head and enlarges the images with a grin. “Nice.”

  I roll my eyes and flick through his photos, searching for skin. I land on a picture of a house with a wraparound porch, painted white with a big tree out in front. “Is this your parents’ house?” I ask.

  Hunter pulls his eyes away from my tits for a second to look. “Yeah.” He nods. “That’s where I grew up.”

  “Where?”

  “About an hour or so outside the city.”

  “Do they still live there now?”

  “Yeah. I took that last year; just after the Fourth of July. I thought — this is possibly the last summer I’ll spend here. I wanted to keep it with me.”

  I smile. “That is adorable.”

  He peeks at me once before zoning in on my phone again.

  I admire the house, wondering what it would be like to live in a place like that. My parents were city-dwellers, always have been. It’d be strange to look outside and see green grass instead of the pale and gray concrete jungle.

  Hunter taps on the screen with his thumbs.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  His phone buzzes in my hand.

  I gasp. “Did you seriously just send my nude photos to yourself?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You have no shame, Hunter.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I open the message to see what he took. “You didn’t even get the best ones.”

  “I took my favorite ones.”

  I shake my head at one of them. It’s sloppy and blurry. “You like this one? I’m not even posing. I’m pretty sure this one snapped by accident.”

  “You look vulnerable,” he says.

  “Vulnerable?”

  “Yeah, look at your eyes.”

  “What so sexy about me looking vulnerable?”

  “Because you rarely ever do.” Hunter smiles. “The only other time I’ve seen your eyes like that is back at the bar the night we met.” He stares a little more at the photo. “In fact, that was the moment I decided to take you home with me.”

  Streetlights pass us by, occasionally shining a bright orange glow through his eyes. He looks at me, unblinking, and focuses for a long second on my lips before leaning closer to me.

  I turn away from him. “We probably shouldn’t do this here,” I whisper.

  “Oh, yeah,” he says, glancing around at his sleeping teammates. “You’re right, we shouldn’t—”

  He crushes his lips on mine, anyway. My skin quivers as the silent kiss takes over my senses, trembling my chest with warmth.

  Hunter sits back and licks his lips, casting another casual glance around the crowded bus to check for peeping eyes. “No harm done,” he whispers.

  My heart races, pumping blood throughout every limb. I clear my throat and settle deeper into my seat with red-hot cheeks.

  “Would you look at that?”

  “What?” I ask.

  He studies my pink face. “I just thought you were naughtier than this, that’s all.”

  I scoff. “I am naughty.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’m super naughty,” I joke. “Check out your phone.”

  He chuckles and rubs his chin. “Okay, okay. You’re naughty.”

  “That’s right.”

  We sit with silent smiles. I watch the signs and billboards pass us by outside. The bus rumbles down the road, providing a gentle lullaby. I pull my blanket a little closer. Soft and cozy next to… him.

  Hunter lays his hand on my thigh beneath the blanket. His touch travels upward to rest on my zipper.

  I look at his smirk. “Hunter—”

  “Shh…” He scans the bus as his hidden fingers unbutton me.

  I bite my lip, trapped in my seat by his strong left hand. I dig my nails into the armrests, trying not to react as his touch slides into my underwear.

  “Shh,” he warns again, silently toying with me with almost surgical precision.

  Pleasure fires up my spine, awakening all of my senses. Suddenly, every shift of feet or distant cough sounds like a trumpet in my ears. I notice every movement, every flit of the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Everything is heightened to detect any threat that would make him stop touching me.

  My thighs shake. Fear and passion blend, working quickly. I’m seconds away from moaning, but Hunter lays his other hand over my mouth. He doesn’t stop. He watches me suffer with sinister eyes and refuses to let me rest as I ache for release.

  I breathe hard against his palm with white knuckles and curling toes. Each firm rub teases me and owns me in ways only he could.

  Climax swallows me whole and I grip his moving hand to stop him before I scream. I hold it all inside and it trembles my body, traveling from my head to my ankles and back again before finally settling in my gut. My body quakes in my seat, gently buzzing as Hunter lowers his hand from my mouth and forces another hard kiss on my lips.

  I curse our location. Any other place and I’d mount him in seconds. I’d ride him until his knees buckled. I’d scream his name. I’d make him say mine.

  Hunter looks forward and lays his hand on his own lap, smirking quietly to himself in satisfaction.

  CHAPTER 21

  HUNTER

  If I had to pick a favorite sound, it’d be the crack of a bat when I hit a home run.

  I can always tell the moment the ball strikes the bat that it’s going all the way. There’s a subtle difference to the sound that you can’t really detect unless you’re holding onto the bat with your own hands, feeling the vibrations rumble through your fingers.

  Until now, it was the roar of the crowd and the shouts from the team cheering me on that pushed me toward the next one.

  Now, I feel like I only make that home run to hear the click of her camera.

  That sounds narcissistic — and there isn’t an athlete alive that isn’t just a little — but it’s not the rush of seeing myself in photos that drives me. It’s the fact that it’s her blue eyes behind the lens. Daisy is watching. She’s admiring me and thinking about me, and that gives me an extra rush.

  I listen for the crack of the bat because later on, after the stadium has cleared out, and the scoreboard has been reset, I’ll ride back to my motel room or to the apartment we share and she’ll be there with an ice pack to cool me down with and a bed to warm me back up in.

  That’s where I’ll hear her voice in all its different forms.

  She’ll talk — a lot — because that’s what Daisy does. About the article or her sister or the baby and all the “fun stuff” it’s doing to her body (her words, not mine).

  She’ll laugh — a lot — because that’s what I make Daisy do when the conversation gets a little too real.

  She’ll moan — a lot — because even the most serious of conversations or the most exhausting of days can’t stop us from blissfully getting lost in each other for a little while almost every night.

  And sometimes in the morning.

  I rest my palms on the motel shower walls, breathing hard to combat the growing steam swirling around me. Usually these away game wake-up calls don’t include a beautiful woman’s lips wrapped around my cock.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  I gaze down at her little blue eyes staring back up at me from her place on her knees. Daisy. Jenny. Whatever. I bite my tongue instead of calling her name, far too turned on by her wicked mouth to think straight.

  Daisy rolls her tongue around the tip before bobbing it even deeper, and a groan escapes me.

  “Fuck,” I say, laughing softly as she throats me a little deeper.

  She chuckles and the vibrations rattle my shaft, firing even more blood toward it, killing my brain, and I try not to pass out.

  “Oh, Hun-ter? You in there?”

  I freeze, hearing that southern drawl from the other side of the shower curtain. Daisy’s eyes grow wide as she pulls my disappointed cock from her mouth.

  “Is that…?” she whispers.

  I gesture for Daisy to keep her head down. “Trisha?”

  “Good morning, honey.”

  I poke my wet head around the creme-colored curtain to find her leaning against the bathroom doorway. “Hey,” I say, holding the curtain tightly closed. “How did you get in here?”

  She smirks. “You left your door unlocked.”

  “I did?”

  Daisy flicks my groin. Hard.

  I flinch. “Well… I, uh… I’m in the middle of cleaning here, so—”

  “I won’t keep you, Hunter,” she says, her eyes shifting downward, hoping I’ll slip up and she’ll catch a quick glance. “I just wanted to ask you something before the game today.”