“I also like that boxing is one against one,” she said. “Teams have a lot of pressure. If you make a mistake, you let a lot of people down. In boxing, you can only let yourself down.”

  Levi leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “That makes sense. But fighting isn’t for everyone either.”

  “No.” She pulled her legs up onto the chair and tucked them under her. “My dad always told me I had too much energy. It builds and builds, and I have to get rid of it somehow.”

  Levi quirked a brow. “Maybe you should run marathons.”

  “Um, no,” she said. “So boring.”

  Levi laughed. “I guess that’s a good way to put it. So boxing is . . . an energy release?”

  “Among other things.” She folded her arms. “Lots of questions, Mr. Florida. What about you? How did you become a baseball star?”

  “Energy release?” Levi said.

  Finley smirked. “You hold your cards pretty close, Levi Cox.”

  “I could say the same thing about you.”

  Her dimples flashed. “Right . . . so tell me something about yourself that I can’t read on the internet.”

  “You looked me up?” He felt inordinately pleased at this information.

  Her face flushed, and she rose to her feet suddenly. “I had to know whose jacket I ended up with the other night.”

  He stood as well. “So what did you learn?”

  She walked around one of the chairs, trailing her fingers along the top of the upholstery. “Stuff that doesn’t really tell me much about you.”

  He folded his arms, watching her avoiding his gaze.

  She kept walking, kept touching the furniture. Then she turned. She eyed him for a moment.

  He moved around the couch that separated them. She didn’t move away as he approached. When he stopped in front of her, she looked up at him. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  Her brown eyes were warm and curious, and he liked that she wasn’t on the other side of the room. That she was close enough that he could easily lean down and kiss her.

  “Stuff that you like, maybe?” she said.

  Levi scanned her face, her eyes, her nose, her lips. “I like your dimples.”

  Her lips parted as if she were about to protest, then she slugged him.

  He laughed and rubbed his arm.

  “Something about you,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. “Something I can’t find on Google.”

  “Like what?”

  “Um, what’s your favorite color?”

  He raised his brows.

  “I’m serious.”

  He gazed at her for a second before saying, “Gray.”

  “No one’s favorite color is gray.” Then her cheeks pinked. “Oh.”

  Finley tried to slug his arm again, but he caught her hand. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” he said.

  She tugged against his hold, but he held fast.

  “Why?” Her voice was breathless.

  “Because it’s making me think you like me.” He stepped closer, and she stopped trying to pull her hand away. “You know, like you can’t stop yourself from touching me,” he continued. “So you slug me, hoping that I’ll take you in my arms. And maybe kiss you.”

  “Is that what it means?” She took a small step back, but she was smiling.

  “You tell me.”

  She bit her lip, and he wanted to throw Grizz’s advice out the window. Instead, Levi rested his free hand on her hip. Her brows lifted, but she didn’t move.

  “Maybe I do like you, maybe I don’t,” she said. “It’s hard to tell when you don’t give me a lot of space.”

  He smiled, then he released her hand and put his other hand on her other hip. They weren’t touching any other place, except for his hands on her hips.

  She tilted her head, her brown eyes warm. “Are you going to kiss me, Levi Cox?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  Her gaze moved to his mouth, and his pulse went into overdrive.

  When she placed her hands on his shoulders, he hoped that meant her answer was yes. But he couldn’t be positive with a woman like Finley Gray.

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek, right on her dimple. She didn’t move away, so he lingered. Her breathing was fast, matching his own.

  “What are you doing, Mr. Florida?” she whispered.

  “Kissing your cheek,” he whispered back.

  “I think you’re doing more than that.”

  He smiled, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re very observant.”

  “I’m also kind of sweaty.” Her fingers brushed against his neck. “And I smell like a pub.”

  “I don’t mind sweat,” he whispered. “Or the pub.” He felt her smile. So he pressed his mouth against the edge of her lips. He was getting closer. “I smell raspberries.”

  She lifted a hand and touched her hair. “The scent of my shampoo survived.”

  He kissed the other side of her mouth. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She exhaled. “No.”

  He slid his hands around her waist and drew her close, their bodies finally touching. He’d been right. She was plenty soft. Her hands moved behind his neck and into his hair, and it was all the invitation he needed. Levi pressed his mouth against hers.

  Her lips parted beneath his, and she welcomed his kiss, matching her own desire with his. Encouraged, he pulled her closer, kissing her harder, tasting more of her. She gripped the fabric of his T-shirt and kissed him back.

  Levi ran his hands up her back as he kissed her. He trailed his fingers over the bare skin of her shoulders, then along her neck. She shivered against him, and everything inside of him buzzed. His heart was racing like mad, and his thoughts were spinning in all kinds of crazy directions. He wanted more. He cradled her face and angled his mouth to deepen his kiss.

  Finley seemed to melt against him. Her hands skimmed over his shoulders, then down his biceps. He was pretty sure he had goose bumps, mixed with fire in his veins. Her touch was making him ignite. Was that possible?

  Levi knew he had to slow things down, cool things off. He moved his hands behind her neck and slowed the kissing. Her arms went around his waist, anchoring them together. Levi kissed the edge of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower, down her neck, where her pulse was throbbing.

  “Finley,” he whispered against her skin. “I think my five minutes are up.”

  “Definitely up,” she whispered.

  “So . . .” he began. “I’ll be back in town Thursday to play the Iowa Devils. Do you want to come to my game?”

  She drew away slightly and met his gaze with a half smile.

  It only made him want to kiss her again.

  “You want me to be a fan girl?”

  He chuckled. “I want to see you again. Come to my game, and then we’ll go do something after.”

  Her brows raised. “Are you going to try to kiss me again?”

  “I am.” He pressed his lips on her cheek, then murmured, “Are you working that night?”

  “Yes, but I can try to switch my shift for earlier in the day.”

  “Then do it.” He kissed the edge of her jaw.

  She ran her hands up his sides, then released him and stepped away. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

  He grasped her hand and linked their fingers.

  “Goodbye, Levi,” she said, arching a brow.

  “Okay, I’m leaving.” He slid his hand from hers, and he turned toward the door. He opened it and went out, then shut it without looking back. Because it would only make it harder to leave.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “What’s with all the questions about baseball?” Finley’s dad asked over the phone.

  “I’m curious, that’s all,” she said into her headphones as she ran on her treadmill. “The game’s on right now.”

  “The game?”

  “You know, the Minnesota Ice,” she said. “They’re playing the Pittsburgh Knights.”

  “I know who they’re playing, but I’m surprised you do.”

  Finley shrugged even though her dad couldn’t see her. It was Wednesday night, and Levi had been texting her several times a day over the past few days. Most of the texts had been short, flirtatious. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten their kiss in her apartment either. Finley turned the fan on her treadmill up a notch. Thinking of how Levi Cox had kissed her made her overheat.

  “Fin?” her dad prompted. “Are you okay?”

  She knew that voice—his concerned parent voice—and she didn’t want the twenty questions that would only annoy her. So maybe she should tell him the truth. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said. “Here’s the thing. I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you blowing it out of proportion.”

  “When have I ever done such a thing?” he asked.

  Finley laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Remember prom my junior year? You borrowed army fatigues from your friend. You answered the door wearing them and holding a water pistol. I almost got left at the doorstep.”

  Her dad chuckled. No remorse there. “I didn’t want Robby to think he could take advantage of my little girl.”

  “Oh, he got the message,” Finley said. She could look back now and laugh, but at the time she’d been mortified. “He never asked me out again. And come to think of it, I didn’t date the rest of my junior year.”

  “None of those guys were good enough for you anyway, honey,” her dad said. Good ole, trusty Dad.

  “Here’s the thing, Dad,” she said. “I’m going out with Levi Cox tomorrow night.”

  Her dad didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “You know, the baseball player—”

  “I know who he is,” her dad snapped. “Professional athletes are all the same, I tell you. They use women and—”

  “Dad,” Finley cut in. “Not all pro athletes are the same.”

  “How do you know Cox?” her dad shot out.

  “Um, he was in the pub last week with some other players, and—”

  “He picked you up? At a bar?”

  “I was working, at the pub where I’m employed, Dad.”

  “I don’t like it,” her dad said. “Hang on, I’m texting Brad. I want to see if Levi Cox has a record.”

  Finley’s heart sank. Not only because it might be true that Levi had a record, but that her dad’s best friend, Brad Hampton, was a cop. And Hampton would be only too happy to give more details on the public records to her dad.

  “Dad,” Finley said. “I’m not seventeen anymore.”

  “I don’t care how old you are,” he said. “You’re still my daughter. Brad just texted back. He’s looking up Cox.”

  Finley bit back a groan and paced the floor, her body not cooling off one bit because of the conversation with her dad. Of course she wanted to know if Levi had a record, but it felt cheap and underhanded to find out this way. It was something she should be able to ask him about. Right? She walked into the kitchen and downed a glass of water.

  “Oh boy,” her dad said. “There’s a bunch of stuff here.”

  Finley dropped onto a kitchen chair. She rested her head on her hand. “What is it?”

  “Plenty of juvie incidents,” he said. “Those records are sealed, but you can still see that there were things going on. And a few years ago, an altercation with another man. Only two years ago, Cox was in another altercation and charged with disorderly conduct and obstruction of justice. That’s a felony.”

  Finley exhaled. She had to think straight. “What does it say?”

  “Well, I don’t have the police report, just the list of charges that were filed.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I seriously doubt that if Levi Cox were found guilty of a felony, he’d still have his baseball contract.”

  “You’d be surprised,” her dad said. “Those professional athletes get away with a ton. Unless they’re charged with murder, they get fined. Domestic abuse, theft, DUIs, all get swept under the rug.”

  Finley stood from the table and paced the kitchen. “Obstruction of justice is a far cry from that other stuff. You know how cops are.”

  Her dad wouldn’t budge an inch. “Fin, be smart.”

  She exhaled. “I’ll talk to him. Find out what happened.”

  “Before you go out with him,” her dad said. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” When she hung up with her dad, the butterflies that had been spinning inside her since Levi had kissed her had turned into lead.

  The sound of the baseball game on the TV in the living room cut into her thoughts. She walked into the living room and stood a few feet in front of the TV. The Knights were in the field, and the Minnesota Ice were up to bat. One out. No one on base. She’d watched all of Levi’s games since Sunday night, pulling them up online after she got off work at the pub. Today she’d worked the early shift, so she was watching this one live.

  She knew the batting rotation well enough to know Levi should be up in two more. The current player hit a two-base run. Then the next player struck out.

  One out. One man on second. Levi approached the home plate.

  Finley was familiar with his routine by now too; it was always the same. He’d tap his helmet, then rotate his shoulders, followed by swinging the bat into a wide arc, which ended as he positioned the bat almost behind his head.

  Strike.

  It was a sloppy swing; even Finley could see that.

  She took a step closer to the TV. Levi seemed agitated about something. He went through his batting routine twice before stepping up to the plate again. The announcer mentioned something about words said between Levi and the Knights pitcher, Young. But the announcer didn’t seem to have any real information, only speculation.

  The Knights pitcher threw a wild ball, and it almost hit Levi. He jumped back and took a couple of steps forward, as if he was going to rush the pitcher’s mound.

  The catcher, who Finley knew was his college teammate Grizz, stood and pushed up his catcher’s mask. Grizz’s bearded face showed he wasn’t happy about Levi’s actions.

  Levi turned on Grizz, and the ump stepped between them. Words had been said, at the very least.

  Finley realized she was clenching her teeth as she watched. “Just play the game, Levi,” she said to the TV. Sunday and Tuesday’s games hadn’t been this heated. And with her dad’s words ringing in her head about Levi’s record, Finley was keyed up too.

  She held her breath as the next pitch was thrown.

  Levi swung hard and connected with the ball. It sailed above the shortstop’s head and landed between right field and centerfield. The centerfielder reached the ball first, grabbed it, and chucked it to second. The runner on second returned to his base. Meanwhile, Levi sprinted, making it to first easily.

  The next batter swaggered up to the plate. Kaelin, or Number Nine as he was called, had already hit a home run in the second inning, and the announcer was making predictions on a repeat performance. But the pitcher seemed determined to walk Kaelin.

  Ball one.

  Ball two.

  Ball three.

  The runner on second led off and sprinted to third. Grizz threw a straight line to third, and the runner was tagged out. Levi had run to second without any interference.

  Two outs.

  Kaelin scuffed his cleats next to the home plate, then went into his stance. The next pitch was high, but Kaelin swung.

  Strike one.

  As Grizz threw the ball back to Young, Levi took off, sprinting for third. The pitcher caught the ball, then threw to third. A split second too late. Levi was safe.

  Finley squeezed her hands together. “Get home, Levi,” she whispered. “Shake off whatever’s going on.”

  Another pitch. Kaelin swung low.

  Strike two.

  “Full count!” the ump called.

  Grizz threw the ball back, and the pitcher fumbled the catch. Levi had already led off third base, and now he ran toward home.

  The play seemed to slow down as the pitcher recovered the ball and rotated to throw to Grizz. But instead of throwing to the catcher, Young threw the ball at Levi’s thigh. The ball struck its mark. Levi went down in a dive, but he managed to stretch out and touch home plate with his hand before rolling over and grabbing his leg.

  Finley gasped and covered her mouth.

  But Levi didn’t stay down for long. In seconds, he was on his feet, running straight toward the pitcher. Then it seemed as if the entire field had erupted as the dugouts emptied of baseball players. The Ice and the Knights all ran toward each other.

  “And the benches have cleared!” the announcer said. “Cox is going after Young!”

  Some players were swinging punches, and others were trying to pull apart players.

  Finley stared at the brawl. Of course she knew there were baseball brawls that happened. It was all part of the game, when a player was hit by a pitcher, or . . .

  Two Minnesota Ice players propelled Levi off the field, and the other skirmishes were broken up. Within minutes, the field had cleared, and order seemed to be restored, but there was a higher tension to the game. The announcer kept talking about Levi Cox and how there had been words between the Knights pitcher and Levi at some previous point.

  A new pitcher was brought in to pitch out the rest of the inning.

  Finley sank onto a half-finished chair. The brawl didn’t bother her. And Levi’s part didn’t bother her on the basic level. But her dad’s voice was still in her mind.

  Sure enough, her phone rang.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said.

  “Are you still watching?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’d better speak to him before you see him again,” he said. “If you do see him again. The guy’s a hothead. I called Randall. He’s been following the Ice for years, knows everything about every player.”

  Finley closed her eyes as she listened to her dad talk about what his friend Randall had said about Levi Cox. Some of it she knew from the internet. Some of it was new. Like how his mom was in jail and how his brother was only his half-brother. “He’s got bad blood, Fin.”

  “I don’t believe in bad blood,” Finley said, although she didn’t sound convincing to herself, let alone to her dad. “He was in foster care, like a lot of kids in this country. He’s beaten the odds. Yeah, maybe he started a brawl, but the pitcher deliberately targeted him. Besides, I’ll bet I can pull up dozens of YouTube videos right now on baseball brawls. And I can guarantee that Levi Cox didn’t start all of them.”

 

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