Read Online Reaching First by Mindy Klasky - Free Book Online Page B

didn’t kick anybody else out. I just keep thinking about my clients, about the women I was supposed to help.”
    “You did help them as much as you could, for the time you were given. And now you’re helping even more people with Minerva House.”
    He thought he heard her sniff. Shit. He’d been trying to make things better, but he’d made her cry instead. But she said, “Thank you. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
    He made his voice as gentle as he could. “You should. You should be easier on yourself.”
    Yeah. She was definitely crying. Dammit. “Or what?” she whispered.
    “Or I’ll catch the next plane out of Kansas City and come home to repeat it until you decide to listen to me.”
    Home . Raleigh wasn’t home. Not yet. But she didn’t know that. She said, “Is that a promise?”
    “Do you want it to be one?” He caught his breath, waiting for her answer.
    “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
    God, he wanted to be on that plane. He couldn’t do it. They both knew that. He had to settle for saying, “It’s late back there. Go to bed. Get some sleep. And things’ll be better in the morning.”
    “They’re already better now.”
    The words filled him with pride. This wasn’t the easy accomplishment that came from the game, from hitting a ball over the fence, from digging for a nearly-impossible catch and coming up clean, with the ball in his glove.
    Hearing Emily’s words, picturing her smile, was like sex. Like he’d played her body, found the specific things that drove her wild, made her shout his name as she came harder than she’d ever come before.
    But he’d done it without laying a finger on her. He’d done it without giving in to the dozens of dirty dreams she’d given him for the past week. And there was something about that power, about that trust that made him want to solve all her problems for the rest of her life.
    “Good night,” he whispered, because he didn’t trust himself with what he’d just discovered.
    “Good night.”  
    They both laughed when neither of them hung up the phone.
    “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.
    “I’ll be waiting.”
    He counted to three, and this time, they both hung up.
    So he called her on Thursday. Friday and Saturday too. They talked about the games he’d played, about a problem Will was having with the floorboards, about reserving a power sander to finish the job. They talked like they’d known each other for years instead of for weeks. And when Saturday night turned over to Sunday morning, when they were both biting back yawns and pretending they weren’t talking through set jaws, she said, “Come over here tomorrow. After you get home.”
    “It’ll be late. Maybe midnight.”
    “I’m a big girl. I can stay up late.”
    “Nothing’s changed, Emily. You’re still going to tell me this is a bad idea.”
    He could hear her breathing, and he wished he’d just kept his mouth shut. What was the big deal? He’d go by her house. Get laid. He’d done that plenty of times before, without turning it into a federal case.
    But that was exactly the problem. It was a federal case. Or a state one, anyway. A state case, in front of a state judge, who had handed responsibility for his sentence to Emily.
    “It’s a bad idea,” she agreed at last. “But a lot has changed. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    He hung up the phone before she could change her mind. One night. One game to play. One flight across country. Tomorrow night was never going to get there.  
    He pounded his pillow and told his imagination to stop spinning out its reels of Emily fantasy footage. Shit. He might as well take a cold shower. Otherwise, he wasn’t falling asleep any time soon.
    * * *
    Emily looked at the clock on her nightstand. 11:57. Exactly three minutes since the last time she’d checked.  
    She picked up her highball glass and tilted her head back to get the last drops of vodka around the ice.  
    How many drinks was that? Who was counting?