Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends #2) - Sara Ney Page 0,66

or mugged are low—I was just the unlucky one who interrupted Alvin Butterfield while he was trying to break into cars and steal loose change from the cup holders.

Parts of me are sympathetic; resorting to crime to feed yourself is a reality I’ve never had to face. The other part of me is angry—he could have hurt me and I could have hurt him, all over some spare change.

I don’t even keep money in my car. It was a bad investment on his end to waste so much time trying to get inside, considering the outcome.

Still.

Here I am, sitting at the police station in Precinct Five. It’s an old college campus they converted into law enforcement offices, and I follow the officer into the lobby. Plop down in a chair straight out of the eighties—they obviously didn’t have the budget to redecorate when they bought the building, comfort being the least of their priorities.

Hookers and pimps have sat in these chairs…

I squirm.

Stand, rooting through my bag for hand sanitizer. Douse myself.

Before long, I’m seated across from the arresting officer and she begins taking my statement. I describe how I left work and had my head down walking into the parking structure (a mistake). I told her I had my hands full, but my keys ready. I told her about how I didn’t notice Alvin Butterfield trying to break into my car until I was upon him—how we both startled each other. How he lost his mind when I sprayed him in the eyes.

Thank god I had that pepper spray.

The officer types everything I say, word for word, asking me if I want to press charges and explaining what happens if I do. The steps to take, what comes next.

Then.

A loud commotion sounds from the far side of the room.

“Sir, you can’t just bust in here like this. Sir!”

The voices have my head turning toward the door, toward the looming, imposing figure that’s suddenly appeared there.

“Would someone stop him, please?” another voice calls out. “He can’t just be in here.”

“I’m confused,” someone else says. “Is that Buzz Wallace or am I hallucinating?”

He is most certainly not hallucinating and what the hell is Buzz doing at the cop shop?

“Hollis?” He’s speed walking toward me, weaving through desks, massive body seemingly taking up the entire place.

He is larger than life and he’s here.

At the police station.

It makes zero sense.

“Trace?” My mouth is hanging open; I can feel it. “What are you doing here?”

“Madison called me.”

How the hell would she have accomplished that? “How did she get your number?”

He shrugs his wide shoulders. “Must have gotten it the same way I got yours.” His hands clasp my upper arms and he crouches, so he can look me straight in the eyes. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

I glance at his body, up and down, then up at his face. “Why are you wearing a uniform?”

His head cocks to the side. “It’s a game day.”

He says it so matter-of-factly. As if it’s no big deal that he’s standing in a police station dressed in a uniform to play in a Major League Baseball game.

“Why are you here?” I’m horrified, actually. Panicked. Why is he here when he has a game—is he insane? “Are you nuts? You cannot be here!”

“Madison said you were robbed and that you were at the police station,” Buzz explains, as if his presence is the most normal thing about this situation.

“But why are you here? You. Have. A. Game.” Why do I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall? He isn’t listening—doesn’t seem to care that I’m frantically trying to reason this away. He cannot be here. This isn’t normal.

“They won’t miss me until the last few innings. Don’t worry about it.”

Oh my god. “When does the game start?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“When…” I swallow. “When did Madison call you?”

“’Bout half an hour ago,” he replies distractedly, checking me up and down for bruises. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? It was a he, yeah?”

He left a professional baseball game before they even sang the national anthem because I got mugged at work in a parking garage?

He left. A Major. League. Baseball game…because I got mugged at work.

And he hasn’t even taken me on an actual date yet. And he’s acting like him showing up is no big deal.

He dropped everything to be here.

Tears well in my eyes as his continue scanning my body, officers looking on, giving us our space. I notice, out of the corner of my eye, one