Love is a Battlefield: Games of Love, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

should do it. Adrenaline—not the result of activity, for once—pounded through his body, making it difficult to clear his thoughts for longer than a few seconds at a time.
    “Whatever you say, Jules. But don’t take too long—I need to grab a bite before we get all gussied up for the night. I swear, I’m so hungry I could eat a leg of the lamb of God. All four of ’em, actually.”
    Julian didn’t doubt it. Michael could put away more food in one afternoon than a whole family could in a week—and almost all of it was protein. They’d once come across a rafter of wild turkeys out here on the practice field, and Michael had chased one of the damn animals around for a full hour, armed with his hammer and driven by grand visions of a turkey roast right on the edge of the parking lot. But wild turkeys proved a little smarter than their domesticated counterparts, and they’d ended up eating at a hospital cafeteria instead. Three broken toes from the misplaced blow, the doctor had said, and lucky for Michael it hadn’t been worse. The hammers weighed sixteen pounds each.
    “Food later,” Julian commanded. His stomach was the least of his concerns right now. He strode across the field until they reached their throw point, flexing his free hand, the sore muscles sending a flood of feeling up his arm. The tension was familiar, comforting.
    Michael was right behind him, dogging his footsteps and his thoughts. “I haven’t seen you act like this since you had a crush on that waitress at the steakhouse in Phoenix. You must really like this Kate girl, eh?”
    Julian paused. “She seemed nice.”
    She did seem nice, and Julian didn’t mean the way the curve of her ass shaped the pale orange fabric of what looked an awful lot like a nightgown, or the way her thighs were so cool to the touch when he’d stopped her from running right over the edge of the cliff.
    At least, that wasn’t all he meant.
    “You shouldn’t have encouraged them, though,” Julian added. “If they’re going to start showing up here on a regular basis or trying to use the park for themselves, it’s going to cut into our practice time. We can’t afford to be distracted right now, Mikey. The Games are in a month.”
    “I’m not the one who agreed to drinks,” Michael pointed out, picking up his hammer. “Besides, that one was awfully small. You think she’d be able to do much in the way of interrupting? You could probably snap her in two.”
    Maybe not snap but bend. In a variety of different positions.
    “Not everything can be measured by size,” Julian muttered.
    “That remains to be seen, my good fellow.” Michael winked. “My size has always been a good indication of my worth.”
    Julian gave him an obliging laugh, but the sentiment behind it didn’t go very deep. There were a lot of things he needed to focus on right now, the hammer throw being one of them. A woman like that—high maintenance down to her very shoes—was exactly what he tried to avoid before one of the Highland Game events. Hell, she was the type of woman he avoided almost all the time. A man who followed the bagpipe like he did had no time for clinging. Dress, women or anything in between.
    “One drink,” Julian vowed, more to himself than to Michael, whose attention had wandered to the curve of his own bicep. Julian had agreed to the evening without even thinking about it, a purely natural reaction to a beautiful woman flushed all over with nerves, embarrassment, pleasure—who knew for sure? All he cared was that it was some sort of emotion that stirred in his gut and piqued his interest. To have turned her down would have been tantamount to kicking a puppy.
    He nodded firmly. Yes. A puppy or a little baby kitten. Julian was a lot of things, but he was never cruel to animals.
    A few kids had gathered on the far end of the field, straddling their bicycles and looking at the pair of them with large, expectant eyes. They’d become regulars of a sort,