Machlan gets a big scoop of cheese ball nestled on a cracker and shoves the whole thing into his mouth. “Baseball,” he says over the snack.
“It’s the Tennessee Arrows against the Wisconsin Bucks,” Lance chimes in, settling himself sideways to see me. “Wanna watch with us?”
I watch as the pitcher throws a fastball on the outside, just enough for the Arrows’ first baseman to get a poke at it. He sends it flying into right field, over the fence, and into the stands.
“Yodeski is an animal,” I note. “Never throw a fastball outside to him on a full count. He’ll jack it every time.”
“What the hell do you know about baseball?” Machlan says, picking up a glass of tea in the cup holder between him and his brother.
Leaving out the fact that my brother played for the Arrows for his entire career, I let them think I’m just some kind of baseball fanatic. “I know a little,” I grin. “I know a lot about the Arrows. They were my team for a while.”
“You like baseball and history?” Lance asks. “Fuck Walker. Wanna blow this joint and go home with me?”
Machlan and I laugh as Lance shakes his head and takes a cracker off the tray.
“What else do you know?” Machlan raises a brow. “Pretty eclectic lady, aren’t you?”
“I have a lot of brothers,” I say, trying to play it off.
“So, what do you know?” he presses.
“Well,” I say, trying to not seem disinterested, “I know a little about politics. Some business stuff but that’s pretty dry. I know a few things about the military, being a twin, fashion, California, and Southern culture, and that I hate Illinois winters.” I tap a finger to my chin. “I think that’s it.”
“She knows more than the two of us put together,” Machlan says to Lance.
I laugh, feeling myself relax. “I was sent in here to collect the cheese ball. Fork it over.”
“Not a chance,” Machlan laughs. “This is my favorite thing ever.”
“Well, it’s apparently Peck’s too, and Nana said to come get it.”
“You tell him to come get it.” His eyes darken and a slow smirk spreads on his face. “But if you’d like to fight for it, I’m open to that.”
“What’s going on in here?” Walker is standing in the doorway, looking pointedly at Machlan. His hands are digging into the doorframe above his head, his forearms thick and roped and on display. His shirt comes up just a little above the top of his jeans and I have to force myself not to stare at the lines carved from his hips to his cock.
“Just chatting with Sienna,” Lance grins. “I have her almost ready to go home with me. Right, Sienna?”
“You are handsome,” I note. “And pretty sweet. And you say nice things to me, which is a plus.” Moving towards Machlan, my heart beating in my throat, I hold out a hand. “Gimme.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Machlan winks.
Lance chuckles, his gaze shooting over me and towards the door. I don’t follow it. I can’t. I have to stay focused on the task at hand and getting the hell out of here.
Reaching down, I grab the plate with one hand. “I’m taking this.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Machlan, you’re not a little boy. Stop acting like one.”
“Yeah,” Lance chimes in as Machlan lets go of the plate.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling sweetly. For good measure, I pat him on the head as I walk by, much to Lance’s amusement. Really, it’s for my distraction. I have to get past Walker before I can leave the room.
Forcing a swallow, the cheese ball topsy-turvy on the plate thanks to Machlan’s digging, I look up to see Walker not there. I hold my breath as I step into the hall, wondering if this is what it felt like for the gladiators to step into the Colosseum. Like their death is imminent, facing the battle for their lives.
I no more than get both feet on the hardwood floor of the hallway before my back is pressed against the wall. Walker is in front of me, his eyes blazing. Yet just beneath the ferocity lies something that makes me want to reach out and pull myself into his chest. But I don’t. Because fuck that.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.
“I was invited.”
Looking him right in the eye, my words much steadier than I anticipated, I try not to focus on his lips and how close they are as he leans over me, his breath hot and cinnamon-y against my face.
“No. Why are you really here?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I volley, giving him an opening to make this conversation easier.
“It sure as hell ain’t for Peck.”
His assuredness irritates me, but it’s his insinuation that I’m so pathetic I’d chase him to his Nana’s house that incenses me. I can feel my face get hot, my exhales vibrating as they roll out of my body.