Home has never been a place to me. Not the space where I sleep or the walls that surround me, but instead, the people that surround me. The ones that make me feel like me. Like I don't need to hide. My brothers, my best friend. It's a small bubble, sure, but one I'm damn happy with. I might be a little lost at times-I mean, who isn't?-but I always know where to go when I need to find myself. It's safe, comfortable, familiar. My home.
Until he falls into my lap. No, literally. Into my lap. That beer I spent the last of my money on? Gone. All over me. Dammit. I'm wet, and I'm...oh.
Oh dear God.
Tall and broad. That surfer hair and those sparkly blue eyes. Cheeky grin and southern drawl that makes a girl wanna drool. All those rippling, tattooed muscles. Oh, yes.
Mitchell Hudson, baseball superstar, you may fall into my lap any day, kind sir.
Except then he starts making a home inside my heart, and that vital organ? Well, I'm not sure we're ready for what he has to offer. His home is tied to a place thousands of miles away, and mine? Well...mine's right here.
The man hits more home runs than I can count, and that's exactly what I'm afraid he's going to do: run home, and take a piece of my heart with him when he goes.
