Stealing Home: A Reverse Grumpy-Sunshine College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play Book 3)

THE NEXT MORNING, I dash out of my room while I’m still putting on my shirt. After I said goodnight to Mia, effectively ruining whatever moment had been brewing, good or bad, with my hand on her thigh, I actually slept… right through my alarm. Which means I’m late to conditioning. I needed to leave ten minutes ago, but I can’t find the cat.

I can’t have lost the damn cat.

“Tangerine?” I call again. “Where’d you go?”

Mia is awake—I heard her moving around while I dashed from my room to the bathroom and back again—but I don’t know whether she invited Tangerine into Izzy’s room last night. Probably, but I’m not going to be responsible for losing the cat my brother loves with a passion that’s rivaled only by what he feels for his girlfriend. Plus, I like the cat too, however many times she sticks her butt in my face.

I already checked downstairs, including the laundry room, and didn’t see her. She’s not in Cooper’s room, either, which means the only other place in the house she could be is Izzy’s room. If she’s not there—if last night, while sitting outside with Mia, stewing over the steel fucking barrier between us, I somehow lost the cat—I won’t be able to forgive myself.

I knock on Izzy’s door. “Mia! Is Tangerine in there?”

She says something, but it’s muffled. Maybe she’s in the bathroom. I try the doorknob; it’s unlocked, so I push the door open. “Have you seen the—”

“Get out!” Mia shrieks.

I freeze—because there’s a very naked Mia di Angelo standing in my sister’s room, towel drying her hair.

The ache that erupts in me nearly makes me see stars. I’ve gone weeks and weeks without seeing this body, and for a moment, all I can do is stare. The sight of the soft curve of her belly, her wide hips, her gorgeous full tits, the birthmark on her ribcage, makes every single memory come rushing to the forefront of my mind. The way my hands spanned her waist. The little gasps she gave me when I sucked on her pert nipples. The taste of her, rich and edged in salt, and how she loved when I bit her inner thighs. Kissing her while my hands wound through her soft, dark hair until we were both breathless.

I miss her.

My heart thuds, keening, wishing I could hold her close enough to feel her heartbeat right alongside mine. I miss her body, and I miss having the privilege of touching her and tasting her, but I miss her—her snark, her intelligence, her fire—most of all.

Even though we didn’t hook up until January, the feelings started the moment I saw her at the movie theater last fall. Cooper couldn’t resist cutting the line to talk to Penny, and Mia and I shared a look at the sight of our friends flirting. The feelings have only deepened since. Until a couple days ago, I barely saw her for weeks, but that just made them grow on a steady diet of yearning, the roots curling around my heart and digging in.

Reality comes crashing down in an instant. Friends don’t look at each other naked. She hasn’t magically decided that I’m allowed to see her like this again, which means I’m violating her privacy with every second I stand there, blatantly taking in that beautiful body.

I spin around, swallowing hard.

Friends. I can’t convince her—or myself—to be friends if I do shit like this.

“What the hell were you doing?” she demands.

“I’m trying to find Tangy.”

“She’s not with you?”

I manage to resist glancing over my shoulder. “No. Is she with you?”

“No,” she says.

Fuck. I can’t help but turn around. Mia has wrapped the towel around her torso. She still looks supremely annoyed, but worried too, as the implication about Tangerine sinks in.

“Let me get dressed,” she adds. “I’ll help you find her.”

“Coop will kill me if I let anything happen to this cat.”

She snorts, grabbing a pile of clothes off the bed and retreating into the bathroom. “And Penny will kill me,” she calls. “Unless you told Cooper, she doesn’t even know I’m here right now.”

I check Izzy’s room while she gets dressed, but I don’t see her amid the throw pillows or the clothes in the closet. She’s not underneath the bed, attacking the dust bunnies, either. I rub the back of my neck as I survey the room, eyes peeled for just a hint of that orange fur.

Mia emerges from the bathroom in skinny jeans and a t-shirt that shows off a sliver of her belly. When she passes by, I catch the scent of jasmine, delicate and enticing. She shoves her feet into a pair of leather sandals. “You didn’t see her at all today?”

I shake my head, following her downstairs. “I checked downstairs already, too. She hasn’t touched her food.”

“Fuck.” She runs her hand through her hair. “Do you think she got outside last night?”

“Maybe,” I admit, even though the thought makes me want to squirm. That’ll be a fun call with my brother. Hey, how’s the road trip? By the way, your cat is running around the streets of Moorbridge by herself.

We poke around the living room, calling for her, and check the closets and laundry room one more time. She’s not in the half-bath, or hiding behind the love seat and the window, or buried in the little castle-like bed next to the television that Izzy insisted she needed.

Mia straightens, a grim expression on her face. “We have to check the backyard.”

I grab a couple cat treats from the pantry before we step into the backyard. The breeze smells of honeysuckle, and even this early in the morning, the heaviness in the air makes it clear that it’s going to be another hot one. We fan out, poking around the bushes, trees, and fire pit. I have my head stuck underneath a chair, getting dirt all over my hands and knees, when Mia speaks.

“Seb,” she says. “Over there.”

She’s pointing at one of the trees, a gnarled old thing with several sweeping branches. Nestled in the crook of one of the branches is Tangy. She stares at us unblinkingly, seemingly annoyed by our presence when she’s the one who spent the night in a tree.

Relief rushes through me. At least she’s here, not squashed by a car on a road somewhere. I brush the dirt away. “How did she get up there?”

“I guess she followed us outside.” Mia frowns. “Will she get down on her own? Do you call the fire department for this?”

“I have no idea if that’s real or just something the movies made up.” I take a couple steps in the direction of the tree, considering it. “She could probably jump, but maybe she’d hurt herself. Wait here, let me see if there’s a ladder in the garage.”

On the way to the garage, I pull out my phone. I have a string of texts waiting from Hunter—although fortunately none from Coach Martin yet.

HUNTER

Where are you? Conditioning started half an hour ago

Coach is doing that silent annoyed thing

We have a meeting before this afternoon’s game FYI

Are you still with Mia?

Morning sex only works if you plan for it

I just ignore him; I got plenty of shit from him and Rafael when I took Mia home from the bar. I wish it was morning sex that caused this. Wouldn’t that be wonderful.

She looked so goddamn beautiful just now. I could stare at her for ages, take in every angle, every detail, and never get bored.

In the garage, a cramped little space I’ve only been in a handful of times, I do find a ladder. I haul it over my shoulder, carrying it back to where Mia stands below the tree, having a staring contest with the cat.

I grin. “Who’s winning?”

“Shut it, you’ll distract me.”

“I found the ladder.”

Mia reluctantly tears her gaze away. “Oh, good. You should probably be the one to climb it, she’s more familiar with you.”

“I think she likes you more than me. She never wants to sleep in my room.”

“Maybe she just likes Izzy’s room, not me specifically.”

I give her a look. “Get on the ladder, di Angelo.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, her expression turning stony. “Get up on that rickety old thing and break my arm?”

“I won’t let you fall.” I brace the ladder. “I’ll spot you.”

Gingerly, she hauls herself onto the ladder. I hold it as steady as I can on the uneven ground, studiously ignoring how close we are—and how, as she climbs, I have a nice view of her firm ass in those dark wash jeans. She takes a deep breath once she’s balancing on the top step. Tangerine shifts, but she’s not so far away that Mia can’t reach out and scoop her up.

“Mia?”

“Shut up and let me concentrate.”

“Just grab her quick.”

“Give me a second,” she says, sharper now. “I don’t like heights.”

“Space is up very high, you know.”

“That’s different.” She huffs out a breath, reaching forward and wobbling. “You would never climb on a ladder to get into space.”

“Come down. I’ll do it.”

“No,” she says quickly. “I can do it.”

“You don’t have to be so stubborn—”

“I can do it,” she interrupts. She reaches out again. I wrap my arm around her back, securing her in place. She’s trembling.

I bite back a curse. Too fucking stubborn. “I wouldn’t have made you get on the ladder if you just told me that you didn’t feel comfortable.”

“It’s not about comfort. Come here, Tangy.”

“If you actually communicated instead of holding everything inside, then—”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with that!” She rises onto her toes, snatching Tangy from the tree and hauling her into her arms. She wobbles again, in a much more precarious position than before. “This is just about the damn—”

“Mia, watch—”

She falls right off the ladder.

I wrap my arms around her instinctively as her body hits mine, sending both of us sprawling onto the grass. Tangerine promptly starts yowling. She claws to get out of Mia’s arms. Once she’s free, she bolts, settling a few feet away. I turn my head to the side, eyeing her as I pant. At least the ladder fell on its side instead of on top of us.

I hug Mia tighter, trying to quell my racing heart. Her hair is in my mouth, and instead of honeysuckle, now I’m smelling jasmine again. “Are you okay?”

“I hate ladders,” she says vehemently. She struggles to get out of my grip the same way Tangerine just did with her, panting too as she sits up. She looks down at me, her hair falling into her face, her skin flushed. The thin gold chain around her neck sways.

She’s straddling me.

She could lean down and kiss me, just like this.

I sit up on my elbows. She blinks. A beat passes, then another, as we stare at each other.

This is a different sort of staring contest. I don’t even dare reach up to brush her hair back, for fear she’ll run away and use this moment as another excuse to strengthen the barrier between us. I can feel my body reacting to the comfortable weight of her on top of me.

I’ve already lost her. I know that. But every single atom in my body is yearning for that kiss, and for everything that could come after.

“Callahan,” she starts.

A beeping sound fills the air.

She grimaces, pulling out her phone and answering it. “Hello?”

“You have a ringtone? James is the only other person I know with an actual ringtone.”

She just presses her hand over my mouth. “Yes, I’m on my way. My, um, tire was flat. I had to change it.”

I lick her hand. She digs her knees into my sides. “Yes, I understand. It won’t happen again.”

I manage to pull her hand away—she’s stronger than she looks—long enough to say, “You’re such a dork.”

“I’ll kick you in the balls,” she threatens.

“An actual ringtone,” I say. “Do you use a cassette player too?”

“Sebastian.” Her voice is sing-song sweet. “I have a big brother and more boy cousins than I can count. Don’t test me.”

I roll her over, so I’m the one holding her down instead. Her eyes go wide. I take her wrists and pin them to the ground on either side of her head. She bucks, but my weight holds her in place. Now it’s my necklace—my father’s necklace—swinging between us.

She’s so gorgeous my breath catches. I’m always out of breath around her, and this is no different.

“Admit we’re friends,” I say.

She glares at me. “Let me go. I’m late for work.”

“I’m late too.” I just settle my weight on top of her more comfortably. She adores it like this, after all, even if she’d never say it aloud again. “But say we’re friends, and we’ll both be on our way.”

She glowers. “What does it matter?”

“It matters. We need to be friends, even if it’s just for Cooper and Penny.”

Somehow, this is the wrong thing to say. I see the change in her immediately; the way she stiffens, her expression taking on careful blankness. “Let me go.”

There’s enough poison in her voice that I do.