17. Cops Just Wanna Have Fun

SEVENTEEN

"We"re going to get in trouble." My hushed whisper held a hint of a giggle as I followed Parker to where he was climbing the stairs to the press box. His long legs took them two at a time and I rushed to keep up. The fall sky above us had turned dark hours ago. It was an extremely inappropriate time of night to be playing baseball, but it was tradition. At least that's what Parker had insisted when he called me from the driveway telling me to get dressed and come outside.

"It should be right here." He fumbled around the door frame to find the piece of siding that screeched out of place to reveal the key we'd copied after stealing one from the maintenance closet in high school. "Got it." He turned to me and all I could see was white teeth reflecting what little light was pouring out of the old buzzing street light as his lips curved up in a cocky smile.

"Parker, we shouldn't turn the lights on. I can't run like I used to." I looked around in the dark searching for any sign of headlights coming our way. Roe's baseball field was located on the far edge of town, surrounded by cornfields on three sides and a gravel road on the other. The field itself was redone a couple years ago when Parker donated the money for a renovation, but the press box stayed the same. I wondered more than once if Parker had a say in that.

"You had no hesitation breaking in when we were younger." I could hear in his voice that he was rolling his eyes at me.

"Well, that was before we could get arrested for real."

He scoffed. "We're not gonna get arrested. I have connections."

"Ohhhh," I drew the word out. "I should have known the great and mysterious Parker James doesn't face consequences." I'd always felt untouchable by his side when we were in school because to know Parker was to love him. Those beautiful fucking dimples worked miracles.

"I'm pretty sure my name is the one on the scoreboard, isn't it?" His tone dripped with arrogance.

I hated to admit that he had a point. Parker and I never got in trouble in high school. We had plenty of fun but managed to avoid getting caught. The one time I went to a party without him though, the cops were called and I got driven home by the sheriff—who'd been friends with my dad. My mom had a conniption even though I hadn't drank anything… yet. The cops rolled up just after I arrived. I got a slap on the wrist for breaking curfew and kept my clean record.

"There's still a curfew."

He ignored my statement and fit the key into the padlock halfway up the door. It unhooked with a click and Parker slipped it in his pocket.

"Come on Peach, break the rules once in a while. The Del I knew wasn't scared of a little trouble." He took my hand and pulled me through the entrance. I held onto his sides and followed him into the small dark building about the size of a train car. I knew the light switch was clear on the other end.

"You're not still scared of the dark, are you Dellie Girl?"

Before I could respond to his question he turned and lifted me to sit on the edge of the slim counter. I could feel the heat of his breath against my neck. It made a shiver of anticipation run down my spine as his hands rested on the tops of my thighs.

I tried my best to sound unaffected. "How many girls did you take here in high school?" My stomach soured at the thought.

Parker huffed a rough laugh. "I'd tell you…" He paused and used the heel of his hands to push my legs apart and create enough space for him to move in close. His warm fingertips traced over my thighs, then skirted over the thin material of my legging clad torso until they reached the hem of my cropped sweatshirt and teased the vulnerable line of smooth skin. I couldn't see anything in the dark. It heightened every other sense I had. His mandarin musk washed over me, and I inhaled, savoring the way it made my stomach clench in a familiar want. I felt his body shift over me and one hand left my skin cold in its absence. His mouth drew closer and his lips met the shell of my ear. The faint touch had me leaning in like a desperate addict aching for the next hit of his attention. "But then I'd have to kill you." His low words barely registered before he reached around me and flicked the light switch on. I was blinded by the bright fluorescents.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "You're an asshole!"

When he stopped laughing at my expense, he tilted my eyes to meet his with a gentle finger below my chin. "That's right, Peach. Get mad. I wanna see if you can still throw hard enough to make my hand hurt. Think you can hit a homer while picturing my head as the ball?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Tempting you is number one on my list of personal goals." He vacated the space between my legs and headed back outside without waiting for me. "You coming, slow poke?"

The man was infuriating. He knew I was attracted to him and planned to take full advantage of it.

Despite the earlier tension, Parker and I fell into an easy routine of warming up like we used to. After a few minutes of launching the ball at each other we tugged off our sweatshirts and discarded them on the turf. I didn't think anything of it until Parker's was removed and I saw the ratty old cut off he was left in. It was so contradictory to what he wore in the Nike commercials. There was nothing clean or polished about it. He looked like he was more likely to be roofing a house in Texas heat than playing major league baseball. That, and it was cut so low on his sides that I could see glimpses of his tattoos when he moved.

He caught where my attention had gone, and his eyes flashed with heat. "What? Am I not to your liking?"

It was uncanny how much Parker was to my liking. His personality aligned better with mine than anyone else I'd met. He pulled when I pushed. Parker and I could talk about anything for hours on end and never get bored. He was thoughtful, open minded, and entertained my ridiculous theories. I didn't know if there was a god or if this was all some kind of simulation, but someone somewhere was thinking of me when he was created. If he had the skin of a killer, I was Bella Swan "unconditionally and irrevocably in lov—"… obsessed with him.

"Just thinking you might get cold. You're used to playing in warmer climates now."

Parker had a knack for making me feel about as transparent as a wet paper towel. His jaw worked while he scrutinized me. "Well, I'm just an Iowa boy at heart, Delilah. A little cold won't bother me." He crossed his arms in a defiant pose that only made the corded muscles of his biceps and forearms more pronounced.

Someone needed to give me a Xanax.

I'd gone from barely thinking about sex to actively having to stop myself from picturing Parker naked. I was beginning to understand why people wore a rubber band around their wrists and snapped it to kick bad habits. Parker was becoming a constant in my life again. It was as comfortable as it was nerve wracking. I hoped I wasn't prey being lulled into a false sense of safety.

"Claim that all you want but it's been almost a decade since you've lived here. I doubt your driver's license even says Iowa."

Parker hissed as he caught the ball. "Oh baby, don't age yourself." His golden tanned arm extended and released to send the ball whizzing past my ear and smacking perfectly into my glove. "It's only been seven years."

"Feels like eons." I shrugged and returned the ball easily.

Parker faked a wince and removed the glove to shake his hand out like he always did. He and I both knew he played catch with players who threw a million times harder than me. It was a tease, his way of lightening the mood.

"Easy, killer. You're working with prized possessions over here." He ran his hand down his non-tattooed arm.

"Then what's the scar from?"

I'd noticed it when he had his shirt off at the gym, and I thought he would say something about the perfect slice of pink that cut across his shoulder and top of his bicep. I'd been distracted then. It was pink enough that I could tell that it wasn't an old wound, but healed enough that he had full movement of his arm.

"Surprised it took you this long to ask." His next throw had just enough bite to it that I knew he wanted to show that it wasn't hurting him. The ego on this man.

"That why they sent your ass home?" Maybe it was harsh, but I wasn't used to censoring myself around Parker. "Sorry, uh… aren't letting you play."

He chuckled, and it was a deep rumble that sent the butterflies in my stomach soaring. The flapping little bastards needed to take a break.

"Partially."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He considered me. "Delilah Howard not being pushy? This is different."

"Trying my best." I tossed a small smile his way. "It doesn't come naturally."

"You don't have to be anything but yourself with me." He sighed and scratched the back of his neck shyly. "It's not something I want the media to get a hold of, but yeah, I was ice skating for my niece's birthday and got plowed over by a couple high school kids. I shouldn't have been on the ice anyway."

"Niece?" I was seriously confused because as far as I knew, Holly didn't have any long lost children.

"Oh right, yeah. My buddy Noah has two girls, Anabel and Stassie. Stass is three and Ana just turned one. Noah plays for the Seattle Wolves, so they rented out the arena but it got double booked. Hence the getting run over and needing a few stitches."

"They pulled you because you needed a few stitches?" It seemed a little dramatic to me.

"Well, I breached contract by getting on the ice in the first place and… I hit my head. Slight concussion."

"Parker!"

"Yeah, it was a bad idea."

"Are they even going to take you back?" I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice. Baseball was Parker's life. It was what he'd spent years dreaming of and working hard to achieve. He'd done it. Millions of people dreamed of playing professional baseball but few ever actually did.

"I really hope so." He said it quietly like he might have been admitting he wasn't confident for the first time. "They gave me time off to reassess my priorities."

"Ouch. Were the other guys there?" I knew he and Brett were close but the rest was a mystery to me.

"Yeah, but I told them not to say anything. The team didn't need to lose four starters all at once. I was the only one foolish enough to get hurt."

I was slowly getting a glimpse into the life Parker had in Seattle while we'd been apart. It was different than I expected.

"How are Brett and Peter?" I met them both multiple times when visiting Parker in New York. They were good people I genuinely enjoyed spending time with. Peter was always game to help me make fun of Parker and drive him crazy. Brett was Peter's polar opposite with his quiet confidence and southern charm. Both were crazy talented and deserved the praise they received.

"Brett's good, the same. We spend a lot of time together. He and Peter live together. I have no idea how it works. Peter has a revolving door of women in and out of the apartment."

"Indulging in his fame and youth?"

"Yes, definitely. He likes the older ladies. He even hit on my mom a few times. Dad thought it was funny and challenged him to arm wrestle for her."

I laughed. That was on par for Parker's dad. "You're kidding me." I could believe it, though. Bob was fiercely in love with his wife, but had a great sense of humor. He knew what he had and was proud of it.

Parker's dimples were on full display as he shook his head. "No, I'm serious. Dad won too. Peter didn't say another word about it. Walked around like a kicked dog for an hour though."

We chatted easily and he filled me in on everything I'd missed out on. His eyes lit up, and he spoke animatedly as he told me stories about his nieces. It was obvious that he was a big part of their lives, and his ease with Lily made more sense. He was genuinely excited for us to meet everyone.

We were quiet for a while, the only sound was the thump of synthetic leather smacking against nylon. Parker's brow was scrunched in thought. Even from 20 feet away I felt the itch to smooth the line under my fingertips. Without a doubt he'd have a wrinkle there in ten years or less.

"It's funny, you know, how you can think you want something so bad and then you get it and it"s great and perfect, but at the end of the day it was still just me alone in a big apartment. I love baseball, and I'm lucky that I'm good enough that it can be my job, but it's just not the same without… the people you love." He didn't make eye contact when he said the last sentence.

"Dreams take sacrifice to come true, Parker. You've said that yourself."

He nodded. "But at some point, you begin to wonder if what you're doing has any meaning."

We were silent in the wake of his admission. I hated hearing him talk like that, and I knew it took a lot for him to tell me.

He broke the tension first. "You know I wanted you to be there right?"

"What do you mean?" In Seattle, with him? On the road?

He lifted his cap twice, holding onto the brim to readjust it. It was a nervous habit. I'd watched him fidget with it when we were younger and on TV during games. "My start in Seattle. I was so nervous I thought I'd crap my pants before even making it to the mound. I honestly think I blacked out for most of it."

"I watched," I admitted. I always watched. It was the night I found out I was pregnant.

"Even though you hated my guts?"

"I didn't hate your guts." When he gave me a suspicious look, I amended my statement. "Okay maybe a little, when I saw the interview and you didn't text me back. At that point I was just trying to tell myself it wasn't a thing."

Parker exhaled. We'd been avoiding this conversation for weeks now. "Del, you rejected me. You quite literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it." He shook his head and spoke quietly like I was a bear that could attack at any moment. "I told you I loved you, Delilah. And you left."

"You didn't mean it. You were all sexed up on hormones and felt like you had to. I get it, I do. You felt bad. I was your friend and we weren't supposed to cross that line, but it's not like you stole my virtue or anything. I'm not fragile."

He rolled his eyes. "You are the queen of deflecting. I know you aren't fragile." His voice was laced with innuendo. "I don't say shit that I don't mean."

"You couldn't have meant it that much if you were so easily distracted in a new city."

He slammed his glove on the ground and stalked over to me. His hazel eyes were three shades darker as they glared down at me. "For being the smartest person I know, you are really bad at reading people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I crossed my arms and didn't back up from his intimidating form towering over me.

"This is an endless cycle, Delilah. We make each other jealous and pretend it doesn't kill us inside. Do you really want to keep doing that, or do you want to give in and be happy?" Parker's hand found the back of my neck and tilted my face so my lips were inches from his. His warm breath contrasted with the cold air surrounding us as he leaned in closer. "Fuck it. This needs to be done."

And then he was kissing me. Parker, my Parker, was kissing me. The boy I'd spent my whole life loving more than I should, was demanding I kiss him back with lips that were even softer than I'd imagined, and I'd done plenty of imagining over the years.

My hands slowly snaked up his chest to loop around his neck as I gave in. Parker felt me yield and took advantage. He picked me up by the back of my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. My back pressed into the chain link fence that surrounded the field as his hips came into contact with mine.

Parker nipped at my bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth gently. The motion caused my back to arch into him, and his warm hands roved over the freed up space while tugging me to him.

Parker kissed me like he was starved for my taste, like he couldn't get enough. I was too enveloped in him to be embarrassed of the needy way I kissed him back, used the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, kissed him back harder.

"Does this feel like I didn't mean it Delilah?"

Unlike our first time together, there was nothing tender and sweet about the way his hands tightened on my ass and rubbed me over the hard ridge of his cock I could easily feel through our clothing. We didn't want tender, didn't need it as my hand fisted in the long curls at the base of his neck, and my head fell back on a sigh. Times had changed. We weren't those people anymore, and as much as I had mourned the freedom that girl had, I was ready to be who I was now and stop pretending I could go back. After years of faking interactions and pretending to be interested, I got a taste of real connection, and nothing else was worth trying. Nothing would ever measure up to the feeling I got when I was with Parker.

I was so lost in him, in the feeling of finally, finally, feeling his lips move against mine that I didn't see the headlights shining from behind us before I heard Evan's voice.

"Thought I'd come join you tw—" The flashlight he was holding quickly whipped away from our tangled limbs and Parker set me back on the ground. "Okay, not what I meant, and I can see now what it sounded like, but this is not what I was expecting to see." He held up his baseball glove like it was proof he wasn't trying to make this a threeway.

"Evan, maybe just stop talking." Parker was apparently more in control of his words and thoughts than I was because I was still reeling from it all and what it meant going forward.

"Yeah, we were just going home. Sorry, it's late."

"Going home are you?" Evan teased.

I glared at him while collecting my tossed sweatshirt and packing up the equipment. "You know it isn't like that with us." I nudged his shoulder with mine as I passed. "Keep your mouth shut, Officer, or I really will end you this time."

Parker was still standing, watching our interaction with an unreadable expression on his face. He motioned towards the press box. "I'm gonna go lock up. Wait for me in the truck?" He tossed me the keys, and I went, eager to get out of the conversation with Evan.