Listen Pitch

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  I just knew he wouldn’t be impressing him for that much longer—at least not when it came to my position.

  “It feels okay,” Sterling admitted. “The first two days it hurt like a motherfucker. Then Ruthie made this salve shit and pasted it on there. I left it on for like an hour, and I could already feel a noticeable difference in the swelling. It was a miracle.”

  “Why didn’t she do that for you when you got hit in the groin?” I teased.

  “Because, apparently, it’s not allowed to go on places that have ‘orifices.’ Or so she likes to tell me.” He grunted.

  I grinned and walked to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and draining half of it before I commented.

  “Tell me what happened, man,” Sterling said. “Swear to Christ. When I heard that on the fucking news, I was scared. I thought you were a goner, and the next time I’d be seeing you was in an open casket.”

  “I wouldn’t have done an open casket. My sister’s under strict orders to cremate my ass so that my mother can’t play the poor, pitiful me card,” I explained.

  He grunted in reply. “That’s not an answer.”

  Grinning, I leaned my hips against the counter and told him.

  “Not much to tell, really,” I said. “I was driving my bike to the convenience store for something to eat when a van pulled out of a driveway and I ran straight into it. From there, I can’t remember much of anything. The police said eyewitnesses jumped into action. There was a nurse and a doctor that just happened to be riding together home from a hospital retirement party. They got me stable, and the doctor did CPR on me until paramedics arrived. From there, it was touch and go.”

  Touch and go meaning I’d nearly died so many goddamn times that it was unreal.

  “I heard that you have a blood disease that kept them from doing further surgeries.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s not really a secret. The media found out about my hemophilia when that ball hit me in the nose, remember?”

  He grunted. “Yeah, I remember. You had to go to the hospital to get something—a clotting agent if I remember correctly—because it wasn’t stopping.”

  “Yep,” I agreed. “That kept them from doing anymore surgery on me even though they needed to. They were able to get a drain in place to relieve the pressure on my brain. But honestly, your guess as to why I’m alive right now is the same as mine. All I’m able to come up with is it being a divine miracle.”

  “A divine miracle in the form of a woman that sat at your bedside for a full two weeks. A mail carrier.” He chuckled.

  The image of Henley in her mail carrier uniform started to stiffen certain parts of my anatomy. God, she was fucking cute in that uniform!

  “I didn’t know she was a mail carrier when I met her,” I told him honestly. “When we first met, Ol’ Bruno the bodyguard stepped on her transmitter. She’s deaf and the transmitter is the mechanism she wears that allows her to hear.”

  Sterling grunted. “Where was Ol’ Bruno when you got gang-banged by the van?”

  I grunted. “Pissed off that I left him behind. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing that from the league as soon as I get back. Apparently, his sole purpose in life now is to make sure that I’m okay. He hasn’t left my place since it happened.”

  He was in the goddamn RV I’d parked out back, but I had a feeling the big fucker was sitting on his couch right now monitoring everything I did. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had around the clock surveillance on me.

  “Why do you have a bodyguard anyway?” he asked. “You were supposed to call me the night of the accident and tell me.”

  We’d played Sterling’s team the night I’d had the accident, and he was right. I was supposed to tell him.

  “The league thinks I have a stalker. They suggested I have a bodyguard to protect me from said stalker.”

  I didn’t have a stalker.

  I had an Uncle Pablo. They just didn’t know that.

  “So, tell me more about this girl…”

  Chapter 14

  I can’t tell if I have free time or I’m just forgetting everything that I was supposed to do.

  -Rhys’ secret thoughts

  Rhys

  Two weeks later, twelve weeks after my accident, I felt almost as good as new.

  As long as you didn’t count the screaming headache that I got when I became too tired, or I started working out and my heart rate got above one sixty.

  Any other time, I felt right as rain.

  Well, kind of.

  The other time I didn’t feel all that well was when my dick made itself known that it wasn’t dead.

  And that only happened when she was around.

  Over the last two weeks, as my idea took root, I became more and more attuned to her every move.

  I watched her when I was sure she wasn’t watching me, and I planned.

  Planned for how I was going to ask her what I wanted to ask her…which I knew that she’d likely refuse right off the bat.

  But, I was waiting.

  Waiting until I could find out more information on her. Find something that she wanted, to offer as an incentive, to get her to agree to what I wanted.

  It was unconventional. It was crazy…and I wanted it.

  Bad.

  It was the only way.

  And she was the only woman that I knew wasn’t after me for anything like money, or fame.

  Because, for a person like her to sit with a man she didn’t even know for as long as she did with me, it meant that she was selfless, kind, and overall a good person.

  And I needed that.

  In the worst way.

  I needed someone that I knew would be there for me. That I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about cheating on me or screwing me over. That I also knew wouldn’t fuck me over and hand me off to Uncle Pablo the first time he dangled a carrot out in front of her.

  That person was Henley.

  I knew it, and soon she would know it, too.

  I just had to do a little research first…right after I took care of my erection.

  ***

  Two weeks later, fourteen weeks after waking up from a coma that could’ve claimed my life, I wished for death.

  But not because I actually wanted to die, but because I was finally back at practice…or at least weight training.

  My trainer, Sway, was there, but also my personal trainer, Cedrick, as well.

  Cedrick was twice my size, incredibly in shape, and intimidating as hell.

  Especially when I was looking at him from under three hundred pounds of weight on my barbell.

  “One more,” he said in a thick, Scottish accent.

  See, Cedrick was from Scotland. Cedrick was also one of those motherfuckers that threw trees—aka cabers—for fucking fun.

  He was brash, abrupt, and didn’t like anybody.

  He was my favorite person in the world.

  Until about thirty minutes ago when he said, ‘one more round.’

  Now, I just wanted to be done with this torture so that Henley would allow me to lay in her lap while she rubbed my head—something she’d started doing two weeks ago when she knew that I was still having headaches after any kind of exertion.

  But, while she seemed to help one ache, she only caused another.

  Another that wasn’t anywhere near as satisfied when I tried to take care of it on my own.

  Yes, I was getting quite attached to the girl, and I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

  “You’re not trying!” Cedrick bellowed.

  I gritted my teeth, pushed even when all I wanted to do was cry—yes, grown men could cry when their trainers tried to make them lift more than their body weight their first day back at weights—and did what I was told to do. Do one more rep.

  Then another.

  And another.

  And another.

  Until moments later, I literally had nothing else to give.


  Cedrick, sensing this, squeezed my shoulder with a rough palm.

  “Good boy, boyo.”

  I snorted at his use of ‘boyo’ and ‘boy’ in the same sentence and got up from the machine.

  My arms literally felt like fucking Jell-O, and tomorrow I likely wouldn’t even be able to do a goddamn push-up.

  But it’d be worth it.

  “All right, well, since you’ve gone through your rounds with Cedrick, now it’s my turn.” Sway, the athletic trainer, as well as our catcher’s wife, clapped her hands excitedly. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back!”

  If anything, she was just as excited as I was.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Just don’t hurt me too bad.”

  Sway snorted. “It won’t be too bad.”

  Forty long, agonizing minutes later, I was walking out of the Lumberjack complex and thanking God that Henley was there to pick me up today, because if I had to drive, I might surely die.

  “Thank God you’re here,” I whined as I dropped down into my seat.

  She stared at me like she’d never seen me before.

  “You’re wearing shorts.”

  I looked down at my legs.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve never seen you in shorts.”

  I frowned.

  I didn’t often wear shorts at home because I liked to keep it cold…and I didn’t really like wearing shorts all that much anyway.

  But, when I was working out, shorts were acceptable because I was going to get hot.

  Which I did.

  I was drenched in sweat, and swear to God, I couldn’t think about anything but my fucking Jell-O legs and arms.

  Which was a lie.

  Something in which I figured out moments later when the skirt she was wearing started to ride up her thighs.

  She wore skirts often.

  She also wore shorts…and sometimes no bottoms at all.

  But, that was because for some reason she had an aversion to them.

  Seriously, the one and only time I’d seen her in pants, actual fucking pants, was when she’d gone to work one of the times before my accident.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure the woman even owned any that she could comfortably wear around the house.

  “What are you thinking about?” Henley asked, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re looking mighty ferocious over there.”

  I grunted. “I’m thinking about whether I should get you to run me over to Sam’s or not.”

  Lies. So many lies. And they were always there when it came to her.

  It wouldn’t do to tell her that she was getting on my every nerve—those nerves not doing anything but turning me on even more.

  I was so going to hell.

  “Sam’s isn’t going to be too much for your Jell-O legs?”

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t fuckin’ care,” I said. “I need the protein. Can’t get the protein without going, because I only know it by the shape and color of the jug.”

  She looked at me oddly, then only shrugged. “Whatever.”

  I should just confess to my sins now…but I was getting too deep.

  I wouldn’t be able to crawl myself back out if I continued down that path for too long.

  Subjecting a woman to my world was a bad idea. Women tended to die.

  However, for some reason, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could protect this one.

  That I could protect Henley and would do it with my life if it came down to it.

  Chapter 15

  I had such a great weekend. I didn’t see anybody I knew.

  -Henley to Rhys

  Henley

  There was a time and place for everything.

  Except, that was, my crush on the man that I was supposed to be helping.

  However, it’d been exactly three months since he’d gotten out of the hospital.

  That was six weeks past when he really needed me, and at this point, it felt like I was twiddling my thumbs during the day.

  However, I had a healthy bank account balance, and Rhys let me watch my niece whenever my sister needed help. I was back on a schedule that didn’t give me constant migraines. I slept when normal people slept, and honestly, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Everybody loved him.

  Including me.

  Yes, you heard that right.

  I was in love with my employer.

  The only thing I could say I had going for me at this point.

  I was back at my own place, doing a whole bunch of nothing.

  I was also highly aware that the man watched porn at night.

  Why, you ask, was I aware of that? Because I could see him through my bedroom window.

  The way that the duplex was positioned, the layout of the house had the master suite on the end with a small shared covered porch area with a private entrance. Both doors from each suite faced each other…and neither of us had blinds.

  His bed was up against the wall that bordered the back porch with his TV on the wall across from it. My bed was up against the larger wall, because during the winter, the opposite wall was freezing.

  Meaning, I could see his TV, and he couldn’t see me watching.

  I wasn’t sure if he knew what was going on, and whether or not I could see him…but it didn’t matter.

  I found him and his porn fascinating.

  Lucky for me, when I took the transmitter off at night, I couldn’t hear a single thing. Including the moans that I knew probably spilled from his mouth each night.

  Damn, I was so going to hell.

  At half past eight, I made my way over to Rhys’ side of the duplex and waved at his bodyguard.

  His bodyguard didn’t wave back.

  He tilted up the shaker bottle he had in his hand and drank heartily from the bottle. It looked disgusting. Like snot mixed with something that swirled brown.

  His eyes made me feel weird, too. They were always on me and didn’t miss a single thing.

  Like the way there were bags under my eyes.

  “Get a good look last night?”

  My face flushed.

  Luckily, I didn’t have my transmitter on today because during the scuffle—or masturbation break—last night, I’d dropped it between the bed and the headboard while thinking about Rhys’ reaction to what was on the television.

  Then, this morning, I’d gotten out of bed to look for it only to realize it wasn’t where I’d put it. After a short search, I’d found it…but hadn’t been able to reach it.

  To get it back out, I’d have to have some muscle, which was what I was getting as I headed over to Rhys’ place an hour earlier than I usually did.

  Ignoring the bodyguard, I knocked on Rhys’ door, gave it ten seconds, then let myself inside.

  My eyes scanned the rooms as I made my way throughout the small space.

  “Rhys?”

  It always confused me when I came in here. I mean, if a man like Rhys, who could afford damn near everything, was living here…there had to be a reason.

  I mean, we had the police commissioner on the opposite side of the street from us. On the other side, there was a district attorney, and the other was an emergency room nurse.

  Behind us was a couple of doctors, but they were so young that it was a surprise that they were able to get a mortgage with all the debt they owed obtaining their doctorates.

  Seriously, this was a middle-class neighborhood, and I couldn’t figure out why he was here. He could live anywhere.

  Yet, he chose here. In a duplex, in the middle of one of the most boring suburbs in Longview.

  “Rhys?” I called out again.

  Though, I honestly didn’t know why.

  He might’ve already answered and I wouldn’t even know it.

  I rounded the final corner to his spare bedroom—I wouldn’t be going into his bedroom without his consent—when I ran into a hot, sweaty chest.

&n
bsp; I hit him with an ‘oomph’ and gasped, my hands going to his belly to steady myself.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I apologized.

  Then I got distracted by his body. His chest, and his abs.

  He had a cross tattoo in the middle of his pectorals. If he was wearing a rosary, the cross of the rosary would be almost identical to the placement of the tattoo.

  Then there was the crow on his side, and it always seemed to be staring at me, mocking me.

  And God, he was wearing gray knit pants—my favorite pair.

  Why were they my favorite? Because I could see everything in them when he got hot and sweaty.

  Everything.

  And he was sweaty. The normally light gray fabric was stained a dark gray from the sweat that was accumulating in the waistband, and the arc extended all the way down past his, umm, unmentionables.

  I was so busy staring at everything there was to stare at that I got distracted.

  At least until I felt him press his hand to my throat and angle my face up toward his.

  He was staring at me with amusement and concern in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, touching the side of my ear with his free hand.

  His other was still wrapped around my throat.

  He didn’t move it, and I didn’t complain about its placement.

  I actually kind of liked it there.

  I shivered.

  His eyes missed nothing, too.

  Which promptly caused me to blush.

  “I can’t get my transmitter!”

  He frowned.

  I must’ve said that really loud.

  Shit.

  “Where is it?” he asked.

  I read his lips and then started to have naughty thoughts about those lips.

  I wonder if I could read his words on his lips when they were pressed against my skin?

  He put slight pressure on my throat, and I blinked, looking back at him.

  “It’s behind my bed.”

  His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t hesitate in following me out of his front door, past his bodyguard who seemed to have choked down the rest of that disgusting concoction, and then into my own half of the duplex.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rhys wave his hand absently at the bodyguard, who had apparently tried to follow us.