“What?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes as I pick up a ball and toss it in my hand.
With his bat, he points at my smooth legs and says, “What the fuck are those shorts?”
“These?” I glance down at the bike shorts that barely slip past my butt and then back at him. “Cory sent me some new things. These are super comfortable. Do you not like them?” I give him a quick spin.
His eyes bulge. “Do I not like them? You don’t wear things like that, Milly.”
Aaaand, the confidence I had putting these on vanishes. I know I dress a little more conservatively and might not wear a bunch of makeup or curl my hair, but I do sometimes. On those rare occasions, I always feel a tad self-conscious, like someone is going to mock my attempt at being more girly.
Like Carson just did.
My face falls flat and I stare down at the ground, unsure what to do. “Uh, maybe I should go change then, we can pick this up tomorrow.” I toss the ball I’m holding at the bucket and sink it.
When I attempt to walk past Carson, he catches me by the waist and stops me.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset when I said that. I only meant, you don’t normally wear shorts this short, which means you’re going to distract me for this entire practice.” The hand not holding the bat falls to the base of my spine and spans slightly over my rear end. “You have a great ass, Milly.”
It’s hard to stay upset when he says things like that.
“I do squats,” I say awkwardly.
He chuckles and says, “I can tell.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head and lingers for a few seconds. “Did you wear those on purpose? To challenge me?”
“I wouldn’t wear them for any other reason. I saw an opportunity to prove you wrong and I took it.”
“Testing my will. You are one good fucking coach. But I’m much stronger than you think.”
“Okay,” I say casually, feeling better when I step away and Carson’s eyes immediately fall to my legs. I chose these shorts along with a tighter-fitting T-shirt and clearly kept my hair in braids since he likes them so much, but I wasn’t counting on this reaction.
I move to the tee and say, “Are you already warm from practice? Did you do your tee work?”
His eyes snap up to mine—caught staring. Winning. “Uh, yeah, we fielded grounders.”
“What?” I ask, laughing. “I asked if you did tee work.”
“Oh, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“No. You told me you fielded grounders.”
He nods slowly, his eyes scanning me. “Yup, we did all the things.” His voice is lazy and drawled out.
“Oh my God.” I roll eyes and go to my backpack where I pull out a pair of warm-up pants and start to slip them up.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“As much fun as this is, I need you to focus. You’re in the second half of your season. We need to make sure everything about your swing is perfect.”
“Or”—he says, taking a step forward just as I pull the pants up to my waist—“we can play strip baseball. Every solid hit I make off your slider, you take a piece of clothing off.”
I reach out and pat this cheek. “It’s cute how delusional you are. I am not taking any clothes off in a public place.”
“What does it matter? You were practically naked in those shorts.”
“Oh yeah? Is that right? I didn’t know I was practically naked.” I clutch my heart. “How humiliating. Do you think everyone saw my privates?”
His brow creases and his lips flatten. “I don’t see how this is a funny matter.”
I push his face away with my palm and point to the tee. “Get to work, Stone. If you have a good practice, I might let you come up to my dorm afterward. We can order pizza and watch Friends.”
“Now that has my attention.” He taps me on the side with his bat. “Let’s get to work, Coach.”
Pizza is ordered.
Carson took the quickest shower known to man.
And I changed back into the bike shorts, because Carson begged.
I shut the door to my dorm room and set my backpack down as Carson flings his large body onto my bed. His long legs stretch a few inches past the mattress, his shoes dangling off his feet, his backpack is tossed on the