Thankfully, he was helped quickly and easily, his meds were changed, and I’d only been an hour late to my meeting at Landsharks’s stadium.
Dad playfully bumps my side when I turn to open the fridge. “How are you?” he asks.
“Good.” Two can play this game. I take out the vanilla creamer. I am good. Mostly.
“Glad to hear it.”
We sit at the square pine table. The kitchen is the largest room in our quaint three-bedroom house. With a TV on the counter and a bay window above the sink that overlooks our backyard garden, we spend most of our time here. Or at least I do, working on my laptop or phone from this very spot. I pour the creamer into my cup. Once my coffee is sufficiently blond and sweetened, I take a sip.
Dad cuts into his pancakes. I watch him eat a few bites before digging into my own. I like when he has an appetite. He’s lost fifteen pounds over the past few months. Further complications from his disease can include blurred or double vision or even blindness. I push away the unwelcome fear.
“What’s on your agenda today?” I ask.
“Carol and Ron invited me over to watch the Chargers play the 49ers.” Jillian’s parents are the closest thing we have to family besides my aunt Becky who lives in New Jersey.
“How much did you and Ron bet this time?”
“Fifty bucks says my Chargers will crush his team.”
“Want me to drive you over there?”
Dad’s eyes, the same flaxen color as my own, narrow. “No thanks. I told you I’m good.”
“Just thought I’d offer.”
He sighs. “And I appreciate it, but I promised you I’d ask for help if I need it, and I’ll keep that promise.”
“I know. It’s just sometimes…” I’m still scared to death about letting him out of my sight.
His hand covers mine. “I will never let you down, sweet pea. Not if I can help it.”
I nod and get out of my chair to hug him. He gave me his shoulder to cry on after Leo broke up with me. He listened to me prattle on about Finn and how excited I am to have this assignment. (I left out the part about how goose bumps have found a brand-new path over my skin whenever Finn smiles at me.)
And he’s right—he’s the one man I can always count on no matter what, so I’m not about to doubt him or myself right now.
Chapter Five
#OutInLeftField
Finn
At the sound of the doorbell, I swallow down the rest of my morning shake in one gulp. If I had to rate this morning on a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a three. That’s like a batting average under one fifty. The reason for this low number? My brothers.
“We got it,” they call out in unison, practically tripping over each other to get to the front door. Sammy is fast on their trail, her barks of excitement pulling a smile out of me. She’s the best buffer to Ethan and Drew there is.
“Uh, hi,” I hear Chloe say.
“Hello,” my brothers chime before introducing themselves and checking Chloe out. How do I know they’re checking her out? Because that’s the whole reason they’re here, the degenerates. If they make her uncomfortable I will get them back tenfold.
It started the other night at dinner when I mentioned the Landsharks had hired me a social media manager. Ethan and Drew found this fascinating and asked about Chloe. Something must have shown on my face because their next question was whether I’d checked out her social media accounts. I hadn’t, so they jumped on Instagram.
Drew let out a low whistle. “Dude, she is smoking hot. And she’s got over fifty thousand followers.”
“Wow,” I’d said, the idea she had a large following churning my stomach. What? Did you think you’re the only person who gets to look at her?
“She’s got a sexy athletic thing going on,” Ethan said, staring down at his phone. “No wonder you blushed when you talked about her.”
“I don’t fucking blush.”
Ethan glanced up. “Not normally.”
“You may have a problem,” Drew said, engrossed in his phone screen. “I’d venture to guess the Landsharks aren’t her favorite baseball team. Looks like the Angels and Padres rate higher given some of these shots.”
I snagged his phone and almost swallowed my tongue. There was Chloe in a tight, V-neck T-shirt wearing a Padres hat. Chloe smiling in the stands like it was the best day ever. Chloe at the beach in a bikini top and white cut-off shorts. Chloe in an Angels baseball jersey at a fund-raising event. I looked more closely. The jersey was number seven. I clenched my jaw. She was wearing Hayden Clemons’ jersey, the second-best center fielder in the majors and the guy who hit the go-ahead run to win the World Series when the ball rolled out of my glove.
Is he her favorite player?
Drew easily grabbed the phone back. “I’m gonna follow her.”
Great.
“We should meet her,” Ethan said.
“No you shouldn’t.” I don’t know why I bothered to argue. It was inevitable they would. If Chloe wanted the real me then that included my family.
“Know if she has a boyfriend?” Drew asked.
I felt my blood pressure rise. Out of the three of us, Drew is the one who prefers to have a girlfriend. He likes to be in a relationship, always looking for “the one.” He hasn’t found her yet, and is currently single, hence the annoying question.
“She’s off-limits,” I asserted.
Ethan and Drew exchanged a look before they both grinned like they’d won the fantasy baseball league for the first time. (They’ve never beaten me and it bugs the crap out of them.)
“Finn and Chloe, sitting in a tree…” Drew sang, off-key.
“Real mature,” I’d said with a shake of my head.
Sammy barrels around the corner and into the kitchen with a dog bone almost bigger than she is in her mouth, jerking me out of my recollection. Chloe and my brothers are right behind.
“Hi, Finn,” Chloe says.
“Hey. Good morning.” The scent of wild berries hits my nose. I think it’s her shampoo, not that I’ve taken a whiff of her hair when close enough or anything. “How was your weekend? You had a bachelorette party, right?”
“It was great. Yours?”
“Not bad.” The pain in my collarbone has finally let up enough to notice. Thank the baseball gods.
Once again Ethan and Drew look at each other like they’ve won something. “You guys are on your way out, right?” I suggest.
“They don’t have to leave on my account,” Chloe says, sitting at the breakfast bar. “In fact, I’d love a picture of the three of you.”
“We do lend ourselves to making Finn look good,” Drew says.
Chloe laughs. “Only good?”
“She’s got our number already,” Ethan says, taking another sugar-free banana muffin off the plate of muffins Sylvie baked for us this morning.
“Hmm…” Chloe glances around the room. “How about by the fireplace? Could you light it first, though?”
“I got it.” Any chance Drew gets to please a pretty girl, he’s on it.
It’s a cold and dreary November day so it’s not a bad idea. What is bad is my mind racing to a picture of Chloe and me sitting in front of the flames, my mouth on hers.
We take a few pictures, Chloe’s satisfied smile lighting up the space like she’s invited the sun into my home. She decides on the best photo and posts it with a clever line: “Mondays are always brighter from behind smiles.” #Auprincebrothers #offseason #triplethepower
Thankfully, my brothers do have jobs to get to and with their curiosity about Chloe appeased—for now—they say goodbye and see themselves out.
“They’re nice.” Chloe leans against the kitchen counter.
“Relatively,” I joke.
“You guys are close. I can tell. You’re lucky.”
I shift my gaze from Sammy lying under the coffee table and chewing on the bone Chloe brought for her to the woman I want to know better. The clues she shares about her life aren’t enoug
h to slake my interest. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No. It’s just—” She stops abruptly, catching herself from revealing more. Long, black eyelashes sweep over high cheekbones. Seconds tick by, and then I’m hit with remarkable pools of gold and caramel.
Whatever she sees in my expression, it’s enough for her to continue. “It’s just me and my dad. My mom passed away.”
My stomach twists. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. So—” she claps her hands together, the gesture a means to release us from the unhappy strain “—this morning is all about you and coffee. You do drink coffee, right?”
“Only Tuesday through Saturday.”
Her brows knit together.
“I’m kidding.”
“Good thing.” She moves around the counter. She’s wearing a zippered pink hoodie, black leggings, and white Vans. Her blond hair hangs over one shoulder in a side braid. Ethan was right. She definitely has the sexy athletic thing going on. She’s also comfortable looking through my cupboards.
I’m comfortable staring at her ass.
“Which is your favorite mug?”
Firm, round cheeks, more than a handful, but I’d need to confirm that with a hands-on approach and—
“Finn? Your favorite?”
My eyes jump up to hers, peering at me from over her shoulder. If she noticed where my attention strayed she doesn’t call me on it.
“I don’t have one.”
“Come on. Everyone has a favorite. That one mug that makes the coffee taste better.” She continues her search.
I reach above her, my chest brushing her back and shoulder blades. The soft hair on the top of her head tickles my chin. My arm span stretches well beyond hers to the top shelf, where I locate my most valuable mug. I’d forgotten about it until she reminded me.
Her breath hitches, from our closeness or from the bright rainbow of ceramic colors, I don’t know. It takes all my strength to step back rather than bury my face in the slope of her neck and trail kisses along her skin.
She spins around. Neither of us speaks for several moments of pure electricity. I swear we could power Landsharks Stadium with what passes between us.
But as fast as it rippled, it disappears. She studies the mug instead of me. “Did you paint that when you were young?”
“Drew did actually. He made one for me and one for Ethan for Christmas one year. I think he was five, maybe six. He was really proud of himself.”
Chloe’s head tilts to the side. “That’s so sweet you’ve kept it.”
“I can’t take all the credit, or much of it, really. My mom somehow made sure it stayed with me. She’s sentimental about the things my brothers and I made growing up.”
“You still could have gotten rid of it.”
I inspect the mug, a wave of nostalgia washing over me. I’ve kept this small token of my brother’s affection to remind myself of what matters. Despite having more money than we could ever spend, my mom kept us grounded, her humble beginnings never far from her mind. She taught us to value the small things, she didn’t spoil us, and made sure my brothers and I always had each other’s backs. I blink and reconnect with Chloe, her soft eyes watching me. She’s only got her father. As much as my brothers and I give each other a hard time, we’d also jump in front of a moving train for each other.
“And miss out on the opportunity to tease Drew with it?” I finally say. “No way. I’m glad this morning brought it to mind. It’s definitely staying out now.”
“Okay, so this morning’s photo op is for Men and Coffee. They’ve got several hundred thousand followers on Insta and they’ve agreed to feature you. I’m not sure we want to use Drew’s mug, though. We want to keep the focus on you. I realize I’ve contradicted myself, but we’ll use his gift in another photo.”
“I’m yours to focus on however you want.”
She grabs a plain white mug then tips the coffee pot, filling the cup halfway. “Let’s get a shot of you sitting at the table with your back to the French door.”
I take a seat while she moves around the room. She places the mug in front of me. She puts the plate of banana muffins beside the mug, thinks better of it, and returns the plate to the counter. She opens the French door, stands back and studies me, closes the French door. “Do you have a newspaper?”
“No,” I say.
Sylvie walks into the room with a laundry basket in her arms. She puts the basket down and then lifts up the potted succulent sitting near the block of knives on the kitchen counter and offers it to Chloe. “Thanks,” Chloe says, stationing the plant on the center of the table. “Great idea.”
Women have an incredible eye for detail. I’ve always been intrigued by their ability for quick analysis. If not for my interior designer, I’d still be decorating this house. If not for Sylvie, I’d walk out the door to a formal event with unsuitable shoes and the wrong tie.
“Anytime,” Sylvie says before resuming her trek to the laundry room.
“She’s nice, too,” Chloe says, standing in front of me and eyeing my hair.
“The nicest.”
“Is it cool if I muss up your hair some more?”
Chloe’s fingers in my hair? Yes, please. I just imagined us naked and her underneath me when it happened. “Have at it.”
Her short nails get to work. My eyes try to close but I will them to stay open. There will be no relaxing or enjoying this.
“Better.” She takes a step back, scoops her phone up off the table. Pharrell’s “Happy” begins to play. “Let’s do this.”
“You always play music when you work?”
“Most of the time, yes. It’s hard not to smile to this song. Now hold the mug in your hand, look at me, and show me those pearly whites.”
I do as I’m told. She takes a couple of pictures. “Now take a sip, eyes on me.” She moves around the table so I track her. I don’t think she realizes she’s dancing to the music, her hips swaying, shoulders bouncing. It’s unconscious, her seamless movements. Her joy. She likes her job. I know the feeling.
Watching her in motion is a total turn-on and I have to send a mental command to my dick to keep still. I’m wearing pajama pants. There’s no hiding my attraction behind the thin cotton. Stiff resistance, man. This morning’s focus is on morning joe, not morning wood.
She stops to scroll through the photos. “I think we’ve got enough here.”
“Great.” I put the mug down, relieved.
“Let’s move to your bedroom next.”
“I’m sorry. What?” I choke out.
“Wholesome Finn is done. Now it’s time for Sexy Finn. I’m not sure which we’ll use, but I’d like to have a choice. Posts with shirtless guys get far more engagement.”
“You want me to take off my shirt?”
“Yep.”
“So, this really isn’t about coffee is it?”
She laughs, then gets busy on her phone, hands it to me. “Take a look.”
“Now I get it,” I tell her.
“I should have shown you their profile first. Sorry about that. They don’t exactly match your brand, but Rena would like to see an uptick in female followers and this is one place to do that.”
“You girls are the bosses.” I push up from the table, give Chloe her phone back.
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
The strap on my sling cuts into the back of my neck. Frustration—with my injury, with being put on display, with feeling out of control—gets the better of me and I pull the damn thing off.
“What are you doing?” Worry lines crease Chloe’s forehead.
“I can’t very well take off my shirt with it on. Come on.” I start toward the stairs.
“Finn.” Chloe stays me with a hand to my arm. “We’re partners, remember? If there’s something you’re not comfortable with, all you have to do is tell me. I got some great shots of you here that I’m happy to choose from.”
I�
�m mad at myself for being short with her. She’s doing her job and she’s right, I’ve got the option to decline. (I think.) Either way, I don’t have to be a jerk about it.
“Although…” She strings out the word, letting it dangle like a fish on a hook so I’ll take the bait. “I thought a guy like you would love showing off his muscles.”
That’s where she’s wrong. I show off on the baseball field, period. Off the field, I’m far more reserved. I’ve had enough eyes on me, judging me, to last a lifetime. Rena and the team think in the here and now, though. They don’t know what my teenage years were like.
“Especially since Hayden Clemons took his shirt off for Men and Tattoos.”
Okay, now she’s got my attention. “Did he now?”
“Yep, and he got over fifty thousand likes. Let’s beat him.”
This is language I understand and am happy to comply with. “When you put it that way…” Sling in hand, I lead us out of the kitchen and to the stairs.
“I forgot the best way to communicate with someone like you is to make it a competition.”
“I can think of other good ways.” That don’t involve speech at all. I push open my bedroom door.
And one day I’ll show them to her right here.
Chapter Six
#CoffeeInBed
Chloe
I’m in Finn’s bedroom.
I’d like to say I thought this through, but I didn’t. Sometimes the synapses in my brain misfire when I’m around him and the intellectual properties in my head space out. Do I really need to take this shot in here? No. We could have done this on the couch or leaning against the kitchen counter, but my subconscious obviously decided I should see a shirtless Finn in bed, just to be sure we put our best photo forward.
To my credit, a lot of the Men and Coffee pics are between the sheets.
That doesn’t mean we have to, though. Gah. I’m second-guessing myself. Something I don’t normally do.
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