Anything but Minor Read Online Free

quickly walked over to him. He whispered in her ear then looked to me. “I’ll have something else delivered. You’ll like this. I promise.”
    “Th-thanks,” I said, taking my hands away from Rafe, who still held them as he stared down at me with the same amusement.
    “Sorry again.”
    “It happens,” he said as he wiped his face with the only clean part of his shirt.
    “Forrest Gump,” I said with a laugh of my own.
    “Sorry?”
    “Uh, just that part where...never mind. Sorry...again.”
    Rafe gave me another curious look before he and Andy made their way to the bar. I slumped into my seat and waited for my new drink. Congratulations and back pats were passed around as the guys took a seat and fresh beers were delivered to them along with a soaked bar towel and a fresh Swampgators t-shirt for Rafe. I held my breath as he ripped off the soiled shirt and saw his tan skin, and the barely visible etch of tattoos on his ribs below his arm and muscular back. I let out a sigh of approval as I pushed the bowl of peanuts away.
    I drank down the delicious pineapple concoction set in front of me and tried to breathe through my embarrassment. I could do a lot of things well, but flirting had never been one of them. I’d never really had a chance to practice the art. Once my humiliation passed, I sat alone, a silent observer of what looked like a ritual at the bar.
    I’d been doing it my whole life...watching crowds that belonged together congregate before my eyes and feeling like I didn’t belong. I’d left the bitterness behind with my schoolgirl age. It was a whole new world for me. As an adult, I realized I had a choice to mingle and try to find my own people or blend, and due to my bitter beer and peanut explosion, I decided that night to blend.

Dutch never had company. In the years I’d been playing at Anchor Park, I’d never seen a single person sit next to her. I was used to the noise she made, but when I saw a pint-sized woman with a loud mouth echo next to her, I almost blew my first pitch. That had never happened...until tonight.
    I glanced over my shoulder to see she was still there. She looked comfortable but alone. I studied her for a spell. Her blonde hair was a mess under that red hat. Underneath were large doe eyes and suckable, plump lips. I’d watched her chest heave when she’d panicked and saw a perfect quarter sized set of nipples strain against her tank.
    I’d spent the first twenty minutes at the bar trying to ignore the image of those nipples and failed.
    “You pitch like that this season, there’s no stopping you,” Andy said as he sipped his beer and looked in the same direction I was with a smirk. “She’s out of your league.”
    “And you think that because?”
    “She has manners. She said crud, not shit . She’s reserved and doesn’t have her legs spread. Not your type.”
    “Just because you have a hard-on for your help doesn’t make you a saint,” I said with my own smirk as Andy’s face hardened. He glanced over at the bartender, Kristina. Relief covered his features as he realized she hadn’t heard then he gave me his death glare.
    “So you changing your mind or what? You still have good years left.”
    “Nope, this is it, so you better make it good,” he quipped. “As soon as you get the call, I’m out.”
    “You’re just going to brew beer and run this bar for the rest of your life.”
    “I’ve played my seasons. It’s time,” he said with conviction.
    “You’ll miss it,” I stated with the same certainty.
    “Maybe...Fuck, I know I will.” He shook his head in aggravation. “My mind’s made up. Let it go. The focus is on you this season. They’re going to call.”
    “Let’s just put it out there,” I said, aggravated. “This is my last—”
    Andy cut me off with a look of understanding and his signature “Fuckin’ A.”
    I clinked glasses with him and turned back to look at the blonde who made me more curious by the minute.
    “Fuck it,