“If the Padres win, you have to wear a Yankees hat for an entire day. Outside, in the world. You can’t hide in your apartment. I want witnesses.”
His mouth dropped open, but he quickly shut it. “Fine. Like I said, it won’t happen anyway.” She smiled as if to say you never know. “How did you know about my hatred for the pinstripes?”
“Isn’t it customary for a Mets fan?”
“Yes,” the guy next to them answered without removing his attention from the game. Story giggled while Daniel shook his head.
“So what about me? What do you want if the Padres win?”
His eyes narrowed on their eavesdropper in disgust, as if knowing he couldn’t say what he really wanted out loud. “How about a picture? You in a Mets jersey.”
“Done.” Smiling, she turned back to the game.
Leaning close, Daniel whispered against her ear. “You know what kind of picture I’m talking about. If you don’t send me the one I want the first time, I’ll be forced to take it myself.”
Even though a night breeze flowed through the stadium, cooling the July air, Story grew hot just hearing his softly spoken words. Unconsciously, she crossed her legs, unaware of the telling motion until Daniel licked his lips in response.
“Are you trying to distract me from my first baseball game?”
“Yes. Is it working?”
She arched an eyebrow.
With a smile, Daniel laced his fingers with hers and sat back to watch the game, mercifully shutting off his twenty-four-hour sex death-ray stare. Still, even the feel of his fingers against hers felt sensual. It didn’t help matters that in battered jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked good enough to eat. Sensing her discomfort, he winked at her from under the brim of his Mets hat, signaling a passing vendor for two beers.
Story briskly changed the subject. “So, what books were you prepared to discuss with me?”
He choked on a sip of beer. “Jesus, that’s the first time you’ve ever actually looked or sounded like a teacher.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Daniel stressed, “not a single teacher looked like you when I went to school. Might have shown up more often if they had.”
“Oh. Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” He watched her closely as she took a sip of beer. “So it must be hard. Wrangling a bunch of kindergartners all day.”
“It can be,” she agreed, smiling at the thought of her rowdy pack of kids. “Probably not as difficult as hostage negotiation.”
“No one ever takes a hostage during class? Give me a snack pack or Malibu Barbie gets it?”
Story shook her head. “You’re showing your age. They all have iPods now. I haven’t seen a Barbie since I was in kindergarten.”
“Seriously? Who is confusing the boys about female anatomy, then?”
“You’ve always been a peeker, I see.”
“Guilty as charged.” Smiling, he took a long gulp of his beer. “Other than confiscating iPods, what’s the hardest part of being a teacher?”
“Well, they basically have no filter. Whatever pops into their head comes right out of their mouths.”
“Sounds like Brent,” he commented drily. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve heard?”
Tilting her head, she thought about it. “Will Gergitch. Cutest little thing with glasses. Never said a word during class unless I dragged it out of him. Until one afternoon, the principal stops by class to say hello to the students. Will politely shakes her hand and blurts, ‘My mom says you’re not qualified to be the principal of a shoe box filled with shit.’”
Story watched with pleasure as Daniel nearly spit out his beer. “You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not.”
He raised his plastic cup. “To Will Gergitch. American hero.”
Chapter Thirteen
Unfortunately, conversation between Story and Daniel, not to mention among the entire crowd, came to a standstill by the time the Padres led the Mets eight to zero after the fifth inning. Their eavesdropping neighbor spat on the ground near his feet and left in disgust, shouting epithets at the Mets dugout as he stormed up the stairs.
Daniel started looking nervous as the reality of their bet set in. His face had gone completely white, his eyes splitting time between the scoreboard and the field.
“You’re not going to hold me to that bet are you, sunshine?”
She snorted. “Bet’s a bet, trail mix.”
“I thought people from California were supposed to be nice.”
“It’s all a ruse.”
“Obviously.”
During the seventh-inning stretch, Story looked around and saw that most of the crowd had filed out, chalking the game up to a loss. Daniel’s hair strayed in every direction on his head thanks to his anxious fingers combing through it. His hat had long since been shoved
somewhere inside Story’s purse.
As they stood to stretch their legs, Story decided to take his mind off the bet. Noting that their entire section now sat empty, she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Eyes dropping to her lips, he looked immediately distracted, she noticed with satisfaction.
“What are you doing?”
“Just saying hi.”
He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and leaned in close to her ear, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “It’s not a wise move, pressing those sweet, round breasts against me in public. I’ve been craving another taste of them for days. So unless you want to get carried out of here over my shoulder and fucked in my backseat, I’d step back a little.”
Story’s breath hitched, warmth sliding through her belly. The announcer’s voice made her jump and having no choice, she practically fell back into her seat.
The eighth inning proved to be torture for herself and the Mets. They gave up two more runs to the Padres, clearing the stadium almost completely.
Daniel’s hand, starting at her knee, slid higher and higher as the inning wore on. Every once in a while he would squeeze her flesh, a blatant reminder of his earlier threat. He appeared totally unconcerned about the remaining people nearby possibly seeing his possessive grip on her leg and the massaging motions of his long fingers. And after a while, her senses were too overwhelmed to care. Finally, his thumb slipped underneath the hem of her skirt, skimming back and forth just inches from her panties. She couldn’t hold back the low moan that slipped past her lips at the anticipation he created.
The ticking of his jaw was the only indication Daniel gave that’d he’d heard her. But instead of moving his hand higher, he removed his thumb from underneath her skirt and slowly ran his fingers, featherlight, down the inside of her thigh. She felt the answering tickle between her legs and deep in her stomach.
Thighs shaking, nipples pressing against her tank top, she knew her appearance bordered on indecent. If she sat there letting Daniel continue his expert teasing for much longer, she would certainly disgrace herself in a public place.