Stealing Home: A Reverse Grumpy-Sunshine College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play Book 3)
Stealing Home: A Reverse Grumpy-Sunshine College Sports Romance: Chapter 7

EVEN AS WET as a sewer rat, Mia di Angelo is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

My heart rate, which jacked up the moment I heard her scream—that very fucking familiar scream, one that I’ve heard in my nightmares and my dreams alike—slows as I take in the scene. I grip the doorframe, willing myself to breathe normally.

She’s not hurt. Not being axe murdered. Just soaked, standing in nearly a foot of mucky water in this tiny dorm room, surrounded by all the belongings I’d once been familiar with from the suite she shared with Penny. A bead of water runs down her cheek. She wipes at her face furiously, her chest heaving.

Relief runs through me in a torrent. She’s scowling. Practically snarling. She looks like an angel, her beautiful dark eyes shining with emotion. She reminds me of Tangerine when Cooper gives her a bath, petulant and displeased with the entire situation, but at least she’s physically okay.

I give her a grin, since I figure that’s the most likely way to get a reaction from her. “Go for a swim, di Angelo?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

She gives me a once-over. I tense momentarily, remembering the feeling of her lips on my Celtic knot tattoo—the symbol over my heart that I share with my brothers.

When she speaks, her voice is as dry as a desert breeze. “Shirtless?”

“Let me help you.”

“Who were you doing?” she asks, derision in her tone. “The bubbly bitch upstairs with a voice like a dolphin?”

“Oh my God,” Regina says, peering through the doorway. She hops from foot to foot as she hands me my shirt. “This is disgusting.”

Mia crosses her arms over her chest. “So predictable, Callahan.”

Was that a flicker of hurt in her expression? I’m probably imagining it. I pull my shirt on and wade through the chilly water. I nearly trip over something but manage to steady myself on the bed frame. A big water droplet hits me in the face. “Let me help you get this stuff out of here.”

“Thank God this didn’t happen on my floor,” Regina says.

“Oh, sure, good for fucking you,” Mia snaps.

Regina blinks, but before she can come up with a retort, I say, “Regina, call the housing office and tell them they need to send someone to shut off the water to the building.”

“But—”

I squeeze her arm. “It’ll be a big help.”

She flutters her eyelashes at me. “My phone’s upstairs.”

I give her my best smile, the one that makes old women giggle and girls my age want to take me to bed. “Please?”

She leans in and kisses me, her hand cupping my jaw. She even nips my lip, the action full of possessiveness. “Only for you, Sebastian.”

Before she leaves, she adds, glancing at Mia, “You’re so sweet to help this poor girl. Don’t be too long.”

I’ve seen how Mia looks when she’s contemplating murder, and I would say her current expression definitely qualifies. She practically bares her teeth as Regina flounces off. The moment we’re alone, however, she bites her thumbnail, worry breaking through her mask.

“Fuck,” she says, her voice cracking. “What am I going to do?”

I take in the wet mess of clothes and shoes and other belongings. A beautiful black jacket lined with silk, one I pulled off slowly not too long ago, is no doubt damaged beyond repair. “Like I said, let’s get this stuff out of here. I’ll grab my gear bag, it’s big enough for at least some of the clothes.”

“I’m not putting my clothes in your disgusting gym bag.”

“No offense, but they’re already disgusting.” I pick up a lacy bra, letting it dangle from my fingertip. She gives me a stony glare. “Come on, once this is all out of here, we can figure something out.”

“I have my car,” she says. “I’ll put it in there.”

“Let’s grab the bag anyway.” I start down the hallway without glancing back. She might not want anything to do with me right now, but she’s smart. She’ll take the help I’m offering. “I’m sure they’ll have somewhere else for you to stay.”

She snorts, but follows along. “Maybe. A lot of the dorms are being renovated this summer. Guess they should have added this one to the list.”

“What about your laptop?”

She peers into her bag. “That was in its case, so it’s fine. And my phone seems okay.” She inputs the passcode, frowning at the screen.

“That’s good.”

Her laugh sounds reedy. “Thank God. I don’t have the money to replace either of them right now.”

I unlock my car and root around in the trunk for my bag. It’s filled with the bats I’ve been using, my glove, and a couple other pieces of gear, but I just dump it all out. “I’m sorry about the clothes and textbooks.”

She’s biting her thumb again. “Thanks.”

It takes a couple trips, but we get all her stuff from the flooded room to the backseat of her car. Some clothes just need to be washed, but she throws out the jacket, plus that pair of suede thigh-high boots I know she adores. The water ruined some of the textbooks beyond repair, which must hurt. The books I need for my history major make a big dent too. I know better than to offer to replace them, though. She’d just chew me out, and now that I’m with her again—however brief—I don’t want to waste it.

I can practically hear Cooper’s voice. Whipped for a girl who won’t give you the time of day?

I can’t keep the worry at bay as I look at her. She has dark circles underneath her eyes and a pinched edge to her face. She deserves somewhere nice to stay this summer while she’s focused on her research, and at least right now, she doesn’t have that. I watch her shut the car door, swiping her hand—with that bitten-down thumbnail—through her damp hair.

The absurd urge to invite her to stay at my house rises, but I tamp it down just as quickly. She wouldn’t want that help either, and I can’t give it, anyway. You don’t invite a girl to live with you while you’re trying to get over her. That’s like deciding to quit smoking and immediately going to buy a new vape.

I keep my gaze on the maintenance truck rolling into the parking lot. The crew will have a hell of a job getting rid of all the water, much less fixing the plumbing and ceilings. We peered into the bathroom next to Mia’s room, and sure enough, it had flooded as well.

“Wasn’t sure I’d see your underwear again, di Angelo.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she gives me a tiny smile.

I nearly pump my arm in victory.

“Sebastian,” she says, sighing as she leans against her car. “I… I appreciate your help. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. You sure you’re good?”

“I guess I’ll stop by the housing office. Ask if they have another room I can move to.”

I nod, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun. From this angle, the sunlight acts like a halo, accentuating the lighter shades of her hair. It’s curling at the ends from the water, calling up a memory. Showering together at my place after one of our rare hookups there. Smelling my shampoo in her hair, watching her redo her makeup in the bathroom. I hugged her from behind, and she giggled—actually giggled—as I kissed her neck.

Fuck it.

I can’t have that again, but despite what happened, I’m her friend, and friends help each other. Even if the friend in question is prickly as a cactus and hasn’t spoken to you in over a month.

“If they can’t get you in somewhere else, come and stay with me.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. “No.”

“It’s just me in the house right now. Me and the cat. You could stay in Izzy’s room, there’s a private bathroom.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, giving me a glimpse of her belly button. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She smirks, masking whatever’s going on inside her brilliant head. “You know that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“We’re friends.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Are we?”

Enjoy watching me leave, Callahan.

Whatever connection we might have shared, she doesn’t want to explore it anymore. I might hate it, but I can’t force her to be with me, even if I feel the urge to take her into my arms and kiss her like a physical ache.

“See you around,” she says finally. “Good luck on your game tomorrow.”

I watch as she gets into her car and pulls out of the lot. Despite her question—are we, are we, are we—I need to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. She knows I have a game tomorrow. She’s paying attention, at least on some level.

Are we?

We better fucking be.

Regina texts me, asking where I went.

Then she sends a picture. That orange sundress is nowhere to be seen.

I get in my car instead.