Dirty Curve

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Meyer sets the textbook face down, careful not to lose the page we’re on.

“It’s almost eight.”

“I know, I’m sorry, she usually falls back asleep by now.” She glances over at her playpen, and little mama’s eyes are just beginning to close. “Once she’s out, this will go a little faster. We should have a least an hour uninterrupted.”

“What, no.” I pin her with a fixed expression. “That’s not at all why I said that. If anything, she’s keeping me from passing out from boredom.”

A short laugh leaves Meyer. “Okay …”

Fuck. Okay. “Any chance she’ll be okay to sleep in her car seat again today, just for a short twenty-minute drive?”

She tips her head, suspicious.

“I don’t have to be at the field for a few hours.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you also aware that Poly is in San Luis Obispo?”

“Am I aware of what town I’m in right now? That would be a yes.” She fights a grin. “What’s up with you?”

I hold her gaze, and after a moment, hers widens.

She starts shaking her head, but I’m already nodding mine.

“Tobias, no.”

“Come on.”

“No way.”

“Please, you just said you were hungry, but room service sucks. This is free breakfast.”

“I don’t—”

“I need a reason to leave soon after arriving,” flies from my mouth before I can even fucking think, and now Meyer’s looking at me warily. I shrug. “Help me out, Tutor Girl?”

She chews on her lip, looking to Bailey, and when her eyes come back to mine, I know I’ve got her.

To my parents we go.

God fucking speed.

Meyer

As we pull up in front of a quaint little home just a mile up from the ocean, nerves begin to prickle my skin.

This isn’t a good idea. In fact, it’s horrible.

They’re going to get the wrong idea.

I have a child and I’m coming here with their son, a man who’s a few months away from no less than a million-dollar contract, and that’s being insanely humble. If the simple sight of me doesn’t scream gold digger, I don’t know what does.

“Maybe this is a bad idea.” I turn to him, but I’m a little taken aback when I find the same tense expression written along his brows. “Tobias?”

“We could find a diner somewhere instead?” he says, looking from the home to me. “I could tell her that I ran out of time or …” He sighs, dropping his head back against the seat.

I don’t get the chance to say anything else and our window to pull away is gone as right then the front door opens and a dark-haired woman, maybe late fifties, reveals herself on the other side.

Tobias looks to me, anxiousness drawing creases along his forehead.

As I said, this is likely an awful idea, but it’s not like we’re a couple and this is a big step.

It’s not like there’s a deeper purpose to my coming here with him today.

It just so happens I’m on the road with him, as his tutor, and he’s being kind by including me.

If they know their son, and I’m sure they do, they should see that for what it is.

So, I unbuckle my seat belt, and those creases along Tobias’s forehead grow, but he does the same. And then he shakes them off.

Outside of the truck, I unclip Bailey’s car seat from its base and pull her to the edge of the seat, but Tobias is suddenly there, easing me out of the way. He gently grabs her, reaching over to get the diaper bag as well.

We’re greeted at the door by his mom, who smiles brightly at her son and pulls him into her arms.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Look at you, so big and strong.” She squeezes his arms, and he laughs. Her eyes then fall to the car seat in his hands, and she smiles. “Oh my, my, who might this be?” Her palm falls to her chest.

My eyes dart to Tobias, realizing he didn’t tell her we were coming, but he, too, is looking at Bailey. She’s sound asleep, her pink bow still held in place, a perfect match to her watermelon dress and booties.

“So tiny,” his mom croons before turning to me and waving me over. “She must be yours?”

“She is.” I smile, offering his mom my hand, but she pulls me in for a quick hug. I laugh nervously, and step by her when she ushers us inside, but not before I spot the little sign over the doorbell Tobias had told me about.

The place is bright and welcoming, the walls a soft gray and blinds a blinding white, all open to let in the little bit of sun the day has to offer.

His mom shouts for her husband, and quickly points her smile toward me. “He’s watching the stove.”

Tobias clears his throat. “Mom, this is—”

“His tutor,” I rush, just in case.

His mom looks from me to her son.

“My tutor,” he repeats slowly, and I can feel the weight of his stare, though I ignore it. “Whose name is Meyer, and this little sleepyhead is Bailey, her daughter.”

His mom smiles. “I’m Olivia, and this is my husband, Garro.” She waves a hand toward the gentleman who joins us.

He’s just as handsome as his son, tall with the same strong jawline, but his hair, while as dark as his son’s, is peppered with gray and his eyes a deep brown.

The blue comes from his mother.

“It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise, and breakfast is ready.” Olivia nods. “I just need to finish up some more tortillas.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“No, no, hun. Come to the table when you’re ready.” She smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.

Her husband steps in to hug his son, mentioning something that I don’t catch, and I run my hands over my leggings, turning to grab Bailey for an excuse to do something.

Tobias, of course, doesn’t release the car seat, but tells his dad we’ll be right in and leads me over to the living room corner, where he gently sets her seat down.

“I didn’t want her grilling me and—”

“Shh,” I cut him off, digging into the diaper bag for the baby monitors, and placing one on the small table beside Bailey. “I don’t want to sound like we’re being gossipy.”

“My mom loves gossip, just ask her.”

I grin, and with one to match, he jerks his head toward the door his mother passed through. Following behind him, we ease into the next room, and I choose a seat across from him on the picnic-style table.

In the center of it sits bowls of fresh cut onion, cilantro, and a few different kinds of salsa. His dad lowers the proteins in front of us while his mom brings a container full of warm tortillas.

“I hope you like breakfast burritos.” She smiles.

“I do, thank you.”

Everyone gets settled, and served and we begin to eat, Tobias and his parents catching up on things they’ve missed.

They laugh about something that happened over their last visit and his mom tells him about the projects his dad has going at home as well as sharing updates about his nephew.

Tobias eats up every minute of it, smiling and asking questions as they pop into his head while I enjoy the food in front of me.

“You know your brother will be finishing up his residency this winter, isn’t that exciting?” his mom says, catching my attention.

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

Tobias’s eyes snap up to mine, and his elbows come up on the table as he refocuses on his plate.

“Isn’t it?” Olivia beams, reaching for the bowl of fried potatoes. “Tobias, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, Mom. I heard. Badass.”

Olivia’s eyes seem to narrow. “So, when do you think you’ll—”

“Honey.” His dad gently interjects.

“I was only going to ask when he thinks it’ll be time to stop playing a child’s game and take school seriously.”

My breath lodges in my throat at her breezy tone. She spoke as if it’s the most innocent question.

As if it’s not a complete and total insult to the man across from me, who refuses to look up and engage in the conversation, who must have sensed where it was going the moment his brother was mentioned.

I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.

“I mean you don’t even come see us, you’re so busy jumping from city to city, missing class while you’re at it, and for what? To throw a ball around, pick fights with people like in high school?” She shakes her head. “If your brother hadn’t called me to tell me you were going to be in town, I probably wouldn’t have seen you until Christmas, if you even came down. I know you only made the trip this past year because you wanted to meet your nephew.”

“I’ll come for Christmas, Mom.” He takes a drink, his head still hung.

And then the worst thing happens. Olivia turns to me.

“Meyer.” Tobias tenses as I do. “You understand the importance of school, right? You’re a student as well?”

I nod, wishing she’d stop talking

“Meyer holds a 4.0, has since freshman year,” Tobias shares, his eyes popping up to mine briefly, happy to shift the conversation away from himself.

But I think it only fuels his mother’s point further.

Her hands lift into the air, and he gives a curt nod. “Of course, you do, because you know what it takes to be successful in life. Hard work and dedication.” She looks to Tobias. “Your brother knew that too. He worked hard and got into medical school. You saw the time he put into his studies, and you would think you’d learn something from witnessing that.”

“Mom, please.”

“Tobias, I’m serious, honey.” What’s sad is her tone holds true concern. “We didn’t do all we could to make sure you could go to college—”

“You’re right, Mom,” he cuts her off with a firm, but respectful, tone. “You didn’t. If you remember right, I worked it out with the help of someone who actually believed in me.”

The baby monitor beeps, and before I can even attempt to stand, Tobias does. Since his need for an escape is greater, I remain seated, offering him a tight grin when I really want to glare.

He wastes no time, stomping away, but he lets it all go as he reaches Bailey, his voice nothing but tender and patient through the monitor. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

His mother’s eyes fall to the tabletop and it’s only moments later that the sound of the front door reaches us.

“I bet he took her out to see the chickens.” His dad’s grin is troubled as he rises to his feet. “I’ll go keep him company.”

His mom stands and begins carrying the dishes over to the counter, so I push myself up to help.

She’s quiet for several minutes, and I’m more than happy to follow in her footsteps, so I work beside her in silence.

Once everything is put away, Olivia grabs a tray of cinnamon crisps and I follow her into the living room.

“You know my husband coached him when he was young. Well, up until Tobias was too stubborn to listen to a word his dad had to say.” Her lips twitch, but she quickly shakes off the sentiment. “Come high school, he was three times the trouble Talon was. So hardheaded and he couldn’t care less about the things that didn’t interest him. Fight after fight, little to no effort where effort was due. If it wasn’t baseball, it wasn’t even a thought.”

I force a tight-lipped smile, uncrossing and crossing my legs as anxiousness works up my throat.

“Oh, I forget who I’m talking to.” She shakes her head, breaking off a corner of a treat. “You’re his tutor, right?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak in this moment.

“Then you know firsthand what I mean.”

My legs begin to bounce and I look away, but my head is shaking before I can stop it. And then words are spilling from my mouth without permission.

“No, actually.” My voice is quiet, but it’s heard.

Shocked, she looks up from her cup. “I beg your pardon?”

I’ve already spoken, so I can’t pull it back now. I do all I can, offer a tight smile and continue.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”

Her eyes narrow the slightest bit, and she sits back in her chair.

“Tobias struggles with school, sure, but not in every class and never to the point of failure. He works really hard to sustain his GPA and if it starts to slip, he does what he needs to do to get it back up.”

“Yes, honey, to sustain his GPA.” She nods. “So, he can remain on that godforsaken team, not to set up his future.”

“Baseball is his future.”

“Baseball is a game, a pastime, not a life.” She pushes to the edge of her seat, a hint of insult in her tone.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cruz, but you’re wrong.”

Tobias

Stepping through the back door, I find the kitchen table is now empty.

They must have settled into the living room.

Patting Bailey’s back, we head their way, but then my mom’s voice travels through the baby monitor that didn’t get turned off, and I pause where I stand as Meyer says, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”

I swallow, bouncing slightly when Bailey begins to wiggle, wondering what she means by that, but I don’t have to wonder long.

“Tobias struggles with school, yes,” she tells her. “But not in every class and not to the point of failure. He works really hard and he sustains his GPA and if it starts to slip, he does what he needs to do to get it back up.”

My lips twitch.

“Yes, honey, to sustain his GPA.” My mom pretty much mocks. “So he can remain on that godforsaken team, not to set up his future.”

“Baseball is his future.” Meyer responds instantly.

“Baseball is a game, a pastime, not a life.”

A sharp sting spears my chest.

Damn, Mom.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cruz, but you’re wrong,” Meyer tells her, and my muscles grow warm.

“My son refuses to look at the future as a man should. He had a role model in his father and then in Talon. His brother is going to be a doctor, for Christ’s sake. That’s something to celebrate.”

I shake my head, pushing through the door, but a hand on my shoulder halts me, and I look to find my dad standing there.

“Tobias.” My dad’s smile is one of regret, silently asking me not to hold it against her, but before he can say another word, Meyer does.

“Can you not see that Tobias is what legends are made of?” Meyer eases with the softest of tones, and I subconsciously lean closer to the door. “He’s the definition of hard work and determination. He pushes, not only his mind, but his body beyond natural limits, nearly to its breaking point sometimes, and he does this with a smile because he loves it. He’s passionate about his abilities. What he’s doing for the sport today will be remembered for years to come, and that will only double when he moves up. And he will move up.”

My pulse kicks, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.

“Mrs. Cruz, Tobias is expected to go first round in this year’s draft, and in case you don’t fully understand what that means, please let me tell you—”

“I understand that my son was lucky enough to get a second chance, got into a school with a push from that man, and instead of working hard like his brother, he’s throwing it all away.”

“I don’t want to take away from what your other son has accomplished,” she quickly comes back. “Because it’s amazing what he’s doing, but over twenty-one thousand students are accepted into medical school every year. Accepted. I don’t know if you know this, but just over twelve hundred athletes are drafted into the majors every season. Twelve hundred out of fifty-two thousand hopefuls and your son is expected to be chosen first. One in fifty-two thousand, or one in twelve hundred, depending on how you want to look at it.”

There’s a long pause, and my chest tightens as my hand does on Bailey’s back.

“That’s something to celebrate. That … is something to be proud of,” Meyer nearly whispers.

A moment passes and then the door is tugged open, and Meyer and I come face-to-face. She jolts to a stop, and I swear her eyes are clouded.

She swallows and I want to reach out and touch her, drag her closer and keep her there, but she reaches for Bailey before I make a move, gently pulling her into her arms.

“Do you mind taking me back to the hotel? I have a call I need to be there for and Bailey will be getting hungry soon.”

All I can do is nod.

Meyer quietly thanks my parents before walking out the front door, and I’m not far behind.

The ride to the hotel is a silent one, but my mind is screaming.

Back in the room, she sets Bailey in her playpen and attempts to slip past into the bathroom, but I block her path before she can.

“Tobias—”

“Did you mean all you said?”

She looks down, but using my knuckles, I bring those brown eyes back to mine. “Did you mean what you said?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said a fuck-ton, Meyer, by saying anything at all.” My chest burns, my blood hot and flowing double time.

“Your brother’s always the one who lets them know when you’re coming to town, isn’t he?”

A frown falls over me, and I look away. “My parents don’t follow my career, but it’s all good.”

“And you don’t tell them when you’re in town because every conversation leads to the same place …”

“You mean the domain of dreary disappointment? Yeah.” I hide the sting in my shoulder blades by lifting one. “But I’m used to that.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she whispers, a gentle softness in her voice I’m not sure she’s aware of.

“It follows me everywhere I go, Tutor Girl,” I tell her, forcing the corner of my mouth to curve up. “I do something good, something I can be proud of and someone else comes to tear it down, to make me rethink every fucking step I take.”

Realization dawns on her and a sadness clouds her eyes. “You deal with it at home and at school.”

“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t escape it.” I shrug. “I thought it would be different at Avix, new town, new team. New crowd. Older, wiser and all that. But then the paper got wind of my situation, teen with a track record a mile long who just got a full ride, after being cut from the prospect list of every other D1 in the country, and instantly I was The Playboy Pitcher, the bad boy on campus. It’s like they were thirsty for someone to focus on and that focus became me. I do something shitty; they expose it. I do something good; they twist it.”

“Last year I helped a girl move out of her apartment after her roommates ditched her with all the rent, and the paper blasts a story about how I ruined some poor girl’s dreams, driving her to drop out of college.” I scoff, shaking my head. “You know the shittiest part of that? I broke a school record that same week, and for some reason I was excited, like fuck yeah, now they have to say something good. Something I could show my parents, but they didn’t print a damn thing about that.”

Meyer’s hand falls to my chest, her fingers spanning out as she tips her head back farther, her eyes tight and on mine. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” she whispers. “If they knew who you really were …” She shakes her head.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not anymore. Not if you see me the way I heard it.” I reach out, pushing the hair from her face, every muscle in my body straining, tightening as her eyes darken before me. “All you said before. Are those really the things you think of when you think of me … do you think of me?”

The hand on my chest twitches, her pupils growing larger, stirring me deep to my core.

I’m fucking aching.

For her.

For this.

For us.

She takes a small step forward, but I dart my hand out, catching her by the bicep, and hold her right where she stands.

She gasps and a low rumble works its way up my chest.

“Come any closer, baby, and you’ll feel the proof of what you do to me.”

Her throat bobs, creases forming along her brow, and I admit, it stings when her feet shuffle back, away from me.

I drop my chin. The thought of facing her rejection way too fucking much, but then her little hand glides down.

My pulse jumps behind my ribs, hard and fast and instant as my eyes slice up to hers.

I walk her backward, through our joining doors and don’t stop until her shoulders meet the wall in my room. When she swallows, I slip my foot between hers, moving in until her chest is brushing mine.

I’m rock hard for you.

Her thighs clench, and a low groan slips from me, my muscles flexing as her little hand dares farther south.

I hiss when it passes my abs, slipping beneath my shirt to meet the edge of my briefs.

Her head falls to my pecs, and her hand begins to tremble in need.

“I want you,” I tell her and swear to God, she whimpers. “I know you can sense it, feel it.” I lean forward, brushing her loose strands of hair from her face with the tip of my nose, my lips grazing along her ear. “I bet you’ve known it now for weeks, but I’ve ached for even longer.”

She shivers, and my dick twitches again.

“Don’t be afraid, Tutor Girl,” I rasp, lightly grinding against her.

Instantly, Meyer’s head falls back to meet the wall, her eyes hooded and eager. I run my thumb along the plumpness beneath her bottom lip, dying to bite on it the way I’ve watched her do so many times.

“Take from me, Tutor Girl, swear to God anything you could possibly want, I want more.”

Her fingers curl over the elastic of my boxers, and she gives a gentle tug, her heated breath fanning over my neck and driving me mad. “I have a call and you … you have to go …”

A deep rumble rises from my chest as her fingertips curve, digging into my pecs as she fists my shirt. She tried to reason with herself, but it’s no use. Her need is taking over.

You’re so close, baby … come on…

“You made me a promise, Tutor Girl, and I know you want to keep it right now,” I whisper, allowing my hand to fall to her hips. I grip her there, squeezing and she inhales sharply. “Take.”

Her eyes close, her chin lifting, but then my phone begins to ring, and it’s a tone reserved for one person.

“Fuck.” I pant, blindly pulling my phone from my pocket.

.

“Son,” Coach Reid’s voice fills the air.

Instantly, Meyer’s eyes snap open, and she turns to stone in front of me.

I jolt with silent laughter, bringing my finger to my lips, but she’s already torn herself from me, and I spin, my phone to my ear as I watch her disappear into her room.

“Here, Coach.” I clear my throat, adjusting my junk in my jeans and quickly move to toss my travel bag onto my bed.

I tear my slides from the side pocket, shoving them into my game bag and make sure my eye black stick was put back where it goes after the last game.

“I don’t want you warming up until thirty minutes to game time today. I already went over this with the rest of the staff, but to cover all the bases, I’m telling you, too.”

“Heard, Coach.”

“We’re stepping out of the airport now. See you in a few.”

I hang up, a low laugh following.

Thank fuck he didn’t ask to talk to anyone. Not that he’d announce if he became aware I wasn’t on the bus anyway. If he did that, he would have to acknowledge the rule that says athletes must travel to away games together. That would end with my ass on the bench and that’s just not a fucking option.

I need to get there before the bus to play it safe.

But first, I need five minutes with the brunette next door.

Smiling, I slip inside her room, but I find her sitting on the bed, her laptop open, a dude appearing on the screen a moment later.

My frown builds.

“Hey,” I call.

“Okay, Matt, let’s start with physics. Do you have your worksheet?” she asks.

The dude lifts what she’s asked, so I slowly back away.

In the rental, I send her a quick text, and then head to the field.

The smirk on my face doesn’t leave, and for the first time in maybe ever, I’m more excited for the end of a game than I am the start of it.

I look down at my aching dick with a sigh.

Sorry, bro, it’s a massive blue balls kind of day.