He wouldn’t really fire me for not responding to his texts immediately.
Would he?
Because I would’ve never pegged him as someone who demanded I have a wardrobe change in the middle of his game either, so who knows where his head is at.
All I know is that it looks like I’ll be waiting up for Mateo tonight.
twenty-six
I’m losing my goddamnmind.
I walked off that field feeling that special high one gets after a big win. But it had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the woman in the stands. Having her eyes on me while wearing my jersey.
I couldn’t tell you the names of the players I pitched for tonight, because they were nothing but obstacles in the way of me wrapping this game up and coming home to Isabella.
When I first saw her sitting in the crowd, my heart started to race. I feared that it was all too much, too soon for her. I was ready to have security escort her away and up to whatever suite she felt most comfortable in, since my mother has told me horror stories about some of the women that frequent the family boxes.
But to my surprise, Isabella seemed more than fine. Especially when Torres showed up and didn’t try to treat her with kidgloves. Once I saw the shift in her, I knew it was time for me to do the same.
If she was uncomfortable or needed space, I was going to let her take the lead on that instead of me doing that for her and anticipating the worst.
With each passing day, I see more and more of Isabella’s quiet strength and how she doesn’t need me to coddle her, even though I sometimes selfishly wish she did.
So tonight I went completely off script. I pushed and pushed and waited to see if she truly needed an out.
Instead, what I found was more of the fire that I so love to play with.
All was well, or so I thought. Until I took it too far.
I let myself get too comfortable, and the thoughts that float in my head about her come a bit too close to the surface.
And now, as I step off the elevator and into my home, I have no idea what I’m walking into when it comes to her state of mind.
I kick off my shoes and drop my bag at the entrance.
I know Anna’s been asleep for a few hours, since I called to tell her good night, but I’m not sure if Isa’s stayed up after the long day I’m sure she’s had as well.
I don’t have to wait long to get my answer, since I can see her head popped up over the couch as she watches some reality TV show.
She turns her head slightly, as I reach the kitchen. “You.” Her eyes narrow as I stay frozen in place, not sure how to handle the sudden onslaught of animosity.
“Me,” I answer stupidly.
She stays firmly perched on the couch, only her head visible from where I currently stand.
She points a finger in my direction. “Don’t you start. You’ve already had enough of your cute moments for today. And by cute, I mean tantrums. Which, by the way…” She pushes off thecouch to stand, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her. “Is this now considered a mandatory work uniform? Or only when you get your panties in a bunch?”
I have more than enough rebuttals ready at my disposal, but the sight of her in a tank top, sleep shorts, andmy jerseyhas me reeling.
That, along with that fierce attitude, has me just about ready to buckle and drop to my knees for her.
She takes my silence as permission to proceed with her tirade. She walks around the couch and starts to make her way toward me. Her breasts bounce against her tight tank top, which puts me on alert that she’s not wearing a bra.
Fucking hell.
If she knew how close I was to breaking, she’d be a lot more careful in the way she sways her hips, because the back of my couch is looking like a mighty good spot to bend her over and finally sink into her softness.
Maybe then the madness in my mind would quiet long enough for me to get my head straight.
