Play With Me

figured I just had to overcome
that part of me and wiped my sweating body with it. Rubbing my neck, I followed
Ryan onto the porch and found him lounging on the swing.
    Drenched in my
sweat, I tossed the towel deadly aim at his face. But he caught it. “Let’s go
back,” I muttered.
    “Are we in a
hurry, Matthews?”
    I refused to
take a seat anywhere on this porch but leaned my shoulder against the post next
to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “Not really. But I won’t stay
in a place where I have to sign a marriage license to be welcome.”
    “She won’t come
back.”
    “I don’t care.”
Wow, that was a growl. I didn’t know I could actually sound this pissed.
    “Fair enough.”
He sighed and rose from the swing. “Let me just get the ball, then we can go.”
    “The ball?”
    But he was
already gone and came out little later with a backpack that had an ominous
round swell. He stuffed the towel and another bottle of water into it then
strapped it over his shoulders. The keys he dumped back into the potted plant.
    Fortunately, he
didn’t make me run again. We strolled along the beach, and I welcomed the cool
rush of water around my ankles.
    Safe out of
sight from his house, I finally relaxed. “Why did you bring the ball?”
    “You need to
practice kicking and catching. The beach is perfect for that.”
    Okay, that
didn’t sound too bad. But I underestimated Hunter. What he truly meant I found
out when we reached the place where we’d hidden our shoes.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER
    8
     
     
    I WIPED THE sand
off my soles and slipped into my trainers. Ryan took a position about thirty
feet away from me. The ball in the sand, his right foot on top, he shouted, “I
want you to stop the ball.”
    “Ah, okay.
Just—” Whoosh , the ball raced at me. I let out a small shriek, but
caught the ball to my chest.
    He looked at me
as if I forgot to put on clothes this morning. “This is soccer. You’re not supposed
to use your hands.”
    How should I
know what he wanted from me when he tried to shoot me with a soccer ball?
    “Kick it back.”
    I did as he
said, dispersing a great deal more sand than he’d done when he kicked. Ryan shot
again. Same speed, same aim. Right at my chest. I caught it.
    “No hands,
Matthews!”
    Okay, this was
really getting on my nerves. I sent it flying back to him.
    He kicked.
    This time I
stepped to the side and let the ball zoom past me.
    “What was that?”
Disbelief marred his face as he came toward me.
    “You said no
hands. Want me to catch it with my teeth or what?”
    He laughed. “I
strongly suggest you don’t do that. During a game you will have to stop the
ball. But you’re not allowed to use your hands. So you use your body to block
it. Your shoulders, or head, but mostly your chest.”
    “Aha. There’s
only one problem with that.” I cupped my boobs with both hands. “I’ve got
these!”
    Struck silent, his
gaze traveled from my eyes downward and didn’t return. The spark in his eyes
almost scared me. Like I was Snow White and he was the… Hunter . In fact,
I didn’t want to even imagine what thoughts crossed his mind right then. I sapped
my fingers between our faces. “Eyes up here.”
    He obeyed. Reluctantly.
The sliver of an impish smile crept to his lips.
    “Enough training
for one morning.” I could barely keep my voice even. “I want to be back before my
mom finds out I’m gone.”
    He agreed, and I
managed to convince him that we only run half the way then walk the rest. I
didn’t want to break down in front of my house. But when we arrived, I faced
the next hurdle. Dad was already gone to work, but Mom was in the kitchen, and
there was no way to sneak inside without her noticing.
    “I’m so
screwed,” I whined, hiding behind a tree on the other side of the street.
    Ryan cupped my
chin with an unexpected tender hand and made me look at his face. “Do you
always give up that quickly?”
    “Apparently, you don’t,” I muttered with clipped annoyance for his lack of understanding of my
misery. “So what do you suggest?”
    “We get you
inside the same way we got you out.”
    “The window?”
    “Exactly.” His
head slightly angled, he lifted his brows with an utmost of encouragement.
    “Tony has been
climbing in and out there for years. But I don’t see how I can do it.”
    “Mitchell has
been climbing into your room?”
    “Yes. But I need
a ladder to get onto the roof of the shed. And as far as I know, we don’t