Changing the Game

She laughed. “Are you serious? We just got pretty damned close.”


“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

She snatched her skirt and climbed into it. “This is ridiculous. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

And he still stood there naked. Arguing with her. Naked. Damn him anyway. She grabbed her blouse and pulled it over her head, then slipped into her shoes and searched for her purse and keys.

“You do realize I’m not going to let you drive in the rain.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my father. You don’t control me.”

“I’m not trying to control you, Elizabeth. But there’s one hell of a storm out there. If you’d pull your head out of your ass and think logically you’d realize you shouldn’t be out there driving in it.”

Ignoring the punctuating thunder and bright flash of lightning that was trying to prove his point, she dug into her purse for her keys. “I’ve driven in rain before. I’ve lived in this city for a while now. I can handle it.”

He didn’t say anything so she pulled the door open and was immediately blasted by a harsh, cold wind and flash of rain that soaked her. Shivering, she stepped outside and tried to pull the door closed, but the wind battering her prevented it.

“Goddamn it, Gavin, would you help me out here?”

“Sure.” He came over, jerked her by the arm and pulled her inside, then shut the door and locked it. “You proved your point. Don’t be an idiot.”

She dropped her purse and keys and swiped her soaked hair out of her eyes. “I forgot my jacket anyway.”

His lips curled. “Yeah, that would have helped a lot.” He took her hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you upstairs and into a hot shower.”

He led her upstairs and turned on the shower. And okay, even though Castle Grayskull was a giant medieval mausoleum, the bathroom was modern and roomy and, oh, thank God, had a heater and a spacious shower with multiple jets. Gavin stripped her of her soaking wet clothes and threw her in the shower, soaped her up with this great-smelling honey soap, and even washed her hair for her.

Afterward, while she dried off and blow-dried her hair, he went downstairs and made her hot chocolate with real whipped cream. She slipped into the fluffy bathrobe he left out for her, and they crawled into his bed. He’d turned on the fireplace in his bedroom and it was warm and toasty, so the last of her chills had dissipated.

She sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed sipping hot chocolate, feeling foolish for her childish tantrum earlier.

“Why do you continue to put up with me, Gavin?”

He shrugged and took the cup from her, sipping the hot chocolate. “You’re a challenge, Lizzie. I do like a challenge.”

“I’m a giant problem for you.”

He handed her cup back. “Yeah.”

She laid the cup on the nightstand, took off the robe, and slid under the covers with him. He turned off the lights and opened the drapes. The storm had died down now, and the only thing left was the low thunder and occasional lightning. The rain had lightened to just a patter against the French doors of the balcony.

He pulled her against him, and she laid her head against his chest and stared outside.

“I think you’re worth fighting for, Elizabeth. Even if I’m fighting you for you.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

No one had ever fought for her before.

She didn’t think she was worth it.





FIFTEEN


“THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A HOME RUN IN ATLANTA THE other night, son. The entire bar erupted in cheers. We sold a lot of beer after you hit that grand slam.”

Gavin grinned as he helped his dad loosen some nuts on the lawn mower. “Thanks, Dad. It was a big hit.”

He’d come over after his weeklong road trip to help his dad with some repairs. His father was sweating over the lawn mower, trying to remove the wheels.

“Dad, let me do that.”

“I got it. Just get that one in the back, and then we can get these wheels off.”

Gavin dug in and cranked the wrench, muttering a litany of curses in his head when the rusty bastard wouldn’t budge. Finally, it gave and he got the nut moving. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he said, “Dad, why don’t you just get a new mower? This beast has to be older than me.”

“Hey, don’t be tossing out the old shit. It still works. Just needs a tune-up.”

“It needs a burial. You could get a riding mower. Or one of those that are self-propelled.”

His father’s face turned nearly purple as he pushed the wrench. Gavin held his breath, waiting for his dad to collapse right there trying to get the rusty bastard to let go.

“Goddamn this old thing needs some WD-40.”

“It needs the junkyard.”

His dad got up slowly from his position on the ground and hunted around in the garage. “You kids just want to toss everything out as soon as it doesn’t work anymore. You just need to give it a loving hand.”

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