Free Single (Stockton Beavers #1) by Collette West

snarky side emerges, striking out full force at whatever target's in front of me. Even when it's a nice, unassuming guy like Luke Singleton.
    But his eyes crinkle with merriment. "I'll have you know I work out, so my ass isn't saggy or wrinkled, but this isn't about me. It's about my mom—and her saggy ass."
    I will my hand to stop shaking as I put my cup down. I've been dealt a lot of tough breaks in life, and I survived with a sharp enough tongue to prove it—but that doesn't give me the right to go around insulting people.
    "Luke, I didn't mean—"
    "I know you didn't." He smiles at me, placing his cup next to mine. "But now that you mention it, today was a major wake-up call for me, in more ways than one. And there's something I need to ask you."
    "Okay…"
    Here we go. You knew this was coming. So just breathe… breathe …
    "Roberta, do you think I can hire you to move in here and take care of Mom?"
    Breathe …
    If I don't tell him who I am now, there'll be no going back to fix it later. If he ever finds out, he'll never forgive me for deceiving him. But he'll never find out, right ?
    I stall. "Is it so you can play? Because I don't think—"
    My eyes unconsciously travel to the side of his neck, while his gaze remains fixed on me, not wavering in the slightest.
    "I'm not afraid of getting hit again, Roberta, if that's what you're thinking." I stare at him, letting him know that I know he's bluffing, even if he wants to believe what he's saying is true. "It's just a reflex, my brain trying to protect my body, that's all. But the more at-bats I get, the quicker I'll adjust. You'll see."
    "Luke, with the type of injury you sustained, no one would blame you for—"
    "For what? For giving up?" His eyes darken considerably. "Well, you're too late. Your boyfriend already talked me out of it."
    I run my hands through my hair, agitated. "If you mean Landry, then you can relax. I'm not going to tell him about your mom."
    "So he is your boyfriend?"
    "God, what does it matter?"
    He gets to his knees and rests his hands on both sides of the pillow I'm sitting on, caging me in with his arms, arms that are strong, sinewy limbs of corded muscle. I know; I felt them yesterday.
    Meeting my eyes, he states, "It matters because I need to know if I can trust you."
    I raise my chin at him. "Well, if you already believe every single rumor there is flying around about me, then how do you expect me to trust you ?"
    He sighs, "Roberta, he's my boss. So if we're going to be living together, I feel I have the right to know if you're dating him or not."
    "Well, I'm not," I retort. "So does that answer your question?"
    He sits back on his heels. "You're not?"
    "No, I'm not."
    "Wow, that's great!" he blurts out, nodding his head. "I mean, it's good…that there's no conflict of interest when it comes to hiring you."
    "And I guess I don't have to ask you about having a girlfriend." I smooth the robe down over my thighs. "Since you already answered that one for me yesterday. They don't call you Single for nothing, huh?"
    He blushes. "Point taken. No more personal questions, I promise," he responds, placing his hand over his heart.
    "So you consider yourself married to the game, is that it?" I ask, lifting my eyes to his.
    "I do. And with your help, I intend to get back to where I was." He removes his hand from his heart and offers it to me, and something about that simple, yet meaningful, gesture touches me deep down inside. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"
    I press my palm to his and hope to God he can't feel it trembling. "Deal."
    Little does he know that once upon a time I was married to the game too. My name just wasn't Roberta Bennett. Oh, no, back when I was young and trusting and foolish, it was Bobbie Jo Nichols. Making David—the guy who almost ended his career, the guy who almost killed him—my ex-husband.

Chapter Nine
    Luke
    It's happening again .
    I'm falling, and I can't see a thing. I flail through the air, but there's nothing