by Kate, Jiffy
“No, you don’t,” I reply flatly.
There’s a moment of silence and I’m getting ready to ask him if there’s anything else when he begins to speak again. “I’m sorry for the phone call…I just wanted to hear your voice and the favor was a good excuse to call you. I could’ve put it in an email, but sometimes those start to feel even more impersonal than fucking text messages.”
“What’s your deal with text messages anyway?” I ask, partly because I want to know and partly because I want to keep him talking for as long as possible. Especially now that I know he called because he wanted to hear my voice.
“Hate them.” He doesn’t even hesitate with the reply and I feel like there’s a story there but I won’t pry. I know Ross, and if he wants to share, he’ll share. And if he doesn’t, he won’t. “I think they leave too much room for misunderstanding. And don’t even get me started on all the acronyms and one-letter replies.”
“And an email is so much better?” I retort, knowing I’m playing devil’s advocate and loving every moment of it. When Ross Davies is passionate about something, it’s a total turn-on. Not that I need to be any more turned on by him than I already am, but whatever.
He laughs and it’s literal music to my ears. “Oh, an email is so much better.”
“I’m going to need something to back up that claim,” I tell him, perching on one of his barstools and wishing he was next to me… in front of me, behind me…inside me.
Stop, Casey.
“First, when you have something substantial to say, it’s ridiculous to send a text message. No one wants to read a fucking book through text message. I’m not huge on small talk, so typically, if I have something to say, it’s better suited for email.”
Nodding, I reply, “Good point. I’ll accept that. But what about when you just need to send a simple, short reply?”
“Well, then it falls back to principle.” There’s a rustle of sheets in the background and my mind is officially picturing Ross naked, in bed. “I can see where text messages have their place, but since I’ve taken such a strong stance against them, I feel it is my worldly duty to uphold my position and therefore only send emails. It’s like when you pick a baseball team. No matter how much they suck, you have to support them. If you don’t, you’re a fucking fair-weather fan and nobody likes those bastards.”
Now I’m laughing and wishing we were having this conversation face to face… in bed, naked.
“Team Email,” I say, punching a fist in the air. “Solidarity.”
“Make fun all you want, but it’s my loyalty that’s so attractive, admit it.”
For whatever reason, speaking about his attractiveness makes my cheeks flame.
“That’s not the only thing attractive about you,” I say, my voice dipping an octave.
Who the heck is that seductress and where did she come from?
Ross Davies’ bed, I hear the voice in my head reply. And she’s not wrong. Ever since our night together, my hormones have felt like they’re firing on all cylinders. All I think about is Ross and sex. And even when I’m not thinking about one or the other, a mere mention of something related to him or sex has my mind jumping right back in the gutter. I feel wound up tighter than an eight-day clock, which is crazy. After having the best orgasms of my life, you’d think I’d be good for a while, but no. Ross has turned me into a sex fiend and without him here to get my fix, I’m a mess.
I obviously need a little me time… tonight… in Ross’s bed.
“Casey?”
“What?”
He laughs and I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning at the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth.
“You were saying…”
“Oh.” My cheeks flush again. Actually, my entire body flushes. “Huh,” I laugh nervously. “Well, it’s not like you need me to tell you that you’re attractive.”
“Oh, but I do.”
Standing from the barstool, I begin to pace his kitchen, fanning my shirt. “It’s hot in here. I think your air conditioner is on the fritz. Maybe I should call the repairman…”
“You’re at my house?” he asks.
Glancing around his kitchen, I nod and then remember he can’t see me. “Yes, I’m at your house. Phil just left and I was finishing up with paperwork in your office… and probably staying the night. If that’s okay with you.”
He told me when we made the arrangement that his house is my house while he’s away. Even though I have a perfectly good house I share with my sister, it’s nice having a place to myself, even if it is only for a short time. Besides, Charlotte is on her way to see Bo. Since her schedule is so flexible, she can do that.
Don’t think I didn’t consider hopping on that plane with her, but since no one knows about me and Ross, I didn’t think it’d be a good idea.
“Charlotte’s on her way to Florida,” I add, because if he’s not going to talk, I feel the need to keep explaining myself. “And Phil has been coming so early. It’s just easier if I’m already here…”
Ross grunts and then speaks, his voice sounding gruff. “I love that you’re at my house.”
“Are you sure?” If he’s uncomfortable with me being here, all he has to do is say the word and I’ll go back home. “I just thought… well, you said—”
“And I meant what I said.” There’s a finality to his words that does things to my insides. I love gruff Ross… and sweet Ross… demanding Ross. Actually, there’s not a version I’ve seen so far that I don’t love.
“Okay.”
The phone goes silent again and once again I’m left wishing he was here.
“I would just rather be there with you.” His confession comes out just barely above a whisper and I close my eyes as I fight back another smile. Ross Davies knows how to turn me inside out with just a few words and I’m not even sure if he realizes what he does to me.
“I would rather that too…” I confess. “Not going to lie. When Charlotte told me she was flying out today, it took all I had in me not to insist on going with her. I mean, I normally do… she wouldn’t have thought anything of it and I could’ve just gotten my own room. And maybe we could’ve…” I let my words drift off before I get too far ahead of myself. “But I’m here, taking care of your affairs. That’s what you hired me for and if nothing else, I’m responsible.”
I hear a loud sigh and I wish I would’ve kept all of that to myself. Ross needs to be focusing on baseball. He’s had enough on his plate and he definitely doesn’t need me complicating things.
“Not going to lie,” he starts, throwing my words back at me. “I wouldn’t hate it if you showed up. But…”
Of course, there’s a but. He knows as well as I do that if we were seen together it would spike a media frenzy. Not only is he recently divorced, but I’m already connected to the team through Charlotte and Bo. No telling what the tabloids would make out of the two of us being together.
I’ve seen the damage paparazzi can cause. They made my sister’s life a nightmare and put her life in danger. I wouldn’t wish that on my mortal enemy, so there’s no way I’d want that for Ross.
It’s better if we keep whatever happened between us behind closed doors, a secret between the two of us.
“But it’s better if I don’t,” I finish for him.
“Probably.” He sounds regretful and I feel that regret deep into my soul, wishing things were different. If he was just Ross Davies and I was just Casey Carradine and we didn’t have any of our other defining characteristics, I can see us being something special.
There’s definitely a connection here.
I can feel it and I hope it’s not one-sided.
I hope he feels it too, if for nothing more than to know that there will be someone else out there for him. He might be a little banged up, but he’s not broken. Life might have thrown him a curveball, but he’ll recover.
Chapter 9
Ross
Standing on the mound, I wipe the sweat from my brow as
I wait for the sign from Mack.
When he drops two fingers, signaling for a curveball, I shake my head in disagreement. I know Mack is banking on Hager chasing it, but after his last swing, I’m leaning toward a two-seam fastball.
Mack, on the same page as usual, signals for the exact pitch I was thinking.
Nodding, I take my stance, drifting past the balance point as I lean toward the plate and release the ball, which meets Mack’s glove in less than half a second.
Don’t blink, motherfucker.
When the ump calls the strike, Hager mutters something I can’t hear, but I see the smirk on Mack’s face as we leave the field, which tells me everything I need to know.
“That was some easy cheese,” Mack says, hitting my arm with his catcher’s mitt.
We’re at the bottom of the fourth, which means that was probably my last pitch of the game. Since we’re still in the fourth week of Spring Training, I’m slowly working my way up to a full game, but not quite there yet. Give me another week or two and I’ll be ready to go all nine innings.
Glancing up into the stands before I step into the dugout, I lock eyes with Charlotte Carradine.
Most people don’t realize the famous rockstar is here but that’s because they don’t recognize her. She’s currently rocking a ginger wig full of curls tucked under a Revelers baseball cap. The big sunglasses hide her insanely identifiable face, so I can’t see her eyes, but she gives me a small wave as I pass by.
Smirking, I give her a nod in return.
She’s been at Spring Training more days than not. I don’t think she and Bo made it three days apart before she was booking a flight to Florida. Every time I see her, I can’t help but think of Casey.
But then again, the fucking red dirt makes me think about Casey.
The bright blue sky makes me think about Casey.
My right hand makes me think about Casey.
“Nice heat,” Buddy says.
“Thanks, Skip.”
Taking a seat on the bench next to Bo, I grab a cup for some Gatorade. “I see Charlotte’s here again.”
Bo can’t fight the smile that breaks across his face at the mention of her. “Yeah, I tried to get her to stay for the last two weeks, but she said she needs to be in the studio. She’s working on some new music and producing for someone...”
“It’s about time we get a new Lola Carradine album.”
“Yeah,” Bo says, running a hand over his barely there hair. “I just hate that with every new song or album comes a new onslaught of media attention.”
“I thought that was getting better.”
The paparazzi put Charlotte through the wringer for years, but after it all came to a head a year or so ago, they’ve laid off and given her a little space.
“It is,” Bo says, nodding as his eyes drift up, like he can see her behind the dugout. “But until the day they leave her alone for good, I’ll always worry. I want to protect her from every evil, you know?”
I do know what he’s talking about. I’ve felt that way before. I felt that way about Felicia. When she was mine, I would’ve done anything to protect her. Even after the divorce was final, I still struggled with letting go and reminding myself she was no longer my concern.
It wasn’t until I ran into her around Christmas and saw her with someone else that the tether broke. She isn’t mine and probably hasn’t been for a lot longer than I realize.
Our conversation comes to an abrupt halt as Sanchez blasts one out of the park, giving us two more runs. Even though these games don’t technically count, it doesn’t mean we still don’t want to win, but it does make the atmosphere more relaxed.
When Sanchez enters the dugout, we all stand and salute, then everyone breaks out into a ruckus—stomping feet, high fiving, back-slapping… it’s a spectacle, but nobody cares. This might be a job, but deep down, we’re all still a bunch of kids playing our favorite sport.
“Come out with us tonight,” Bo says as we make our way into the clubhouse, after we beat LA by four runs. “Charlotte has to fly back home in the morning and I know she’d like to see you.”
I’ve been making an effort to go out with my team every night. Part of Spring Training is strengthening bonds and I’ve always valued that aspect of the sport. Besides, my philosophy is balance—on and off the field. The past six months haven’t been my best months, but I’m trying to make up for that going forward.
“You can bring someone if you want,” Bo adds with a wink. “I’ve seen all the girls outside the hotel waiting to catch your attention.”
“Oh, Ross,” Mack says in a high pitched voice. “Let me make you feel better.”
“I’ll be the new Mrs. Davies,” Sanchez says, jumping in on the ribbing.
Salito walks by, chuckling under his breath.
“You’re the new most-eligible bachelor on the team and you haven’t even cashed in on it,” Jason Freeman says with a scowl. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Your dick to shrivel up and die?”
He’s only pissed because he’d like that title to belong to him, but he’s an asshole and everyone can smell him from a mile away, even the women.
“According to the gossip blogs,” Sanchez says, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, “he’s already on the rebound. There’s a new pic circulating with you and some smoking hot chick.”
My heart stops and feels like it drops out of my chest. There’s no way the gossip blogs know about Casey. That’s fucking crazy. We’ve only been together in the privacy of my home… and she’s really good about flying under the radar…. And there’s no way she’d—
“Oh, yeah, I saw that,” Mack says with a knowing smile and a quirk of his eyebrows. “Susan, the redhead.”
I close my eyes in what I hope appears to be annoyance, but in reality, it’s sheer relief that this has nothing to do with Casey. My guilty conscience was obviously getting the best of me and sending my paranoia into overdrive.
A few months ago, Mack was on a mission to get me out of my house and on the town. He set me up on a couple of blind dates. Both were awful. Susan, the red head, was the worst of all. She had arms like an octopus and I ended the night feeling violated.
That night, I went home, showered twice, and drank three glasses of Jack Daniels.
I also vowed that when I was ready to be with a woman again, it’d be on my own terms.
“Susan is the exact reason I won’t be taking anyone out tonight,” I deadpan, making eye contact with Bo. “But I will go to dinner with you and Charlotte.” What I don’t mention is that if I were to take anyone to dinner it would be Casey… his girlfriend’s little sister.
Yeah, I definitely don’t mention that.
Subject: Blind dates
Have you ever been on a blind date?
If not. Don’t do it. Worst idea ever.
Also, if you happen to read gossip blogs and see a picture of me with a redhead, that’s old fucking news. It’s also not news at all. Her name is Susan and she was a blind date Mack set me up on months ago. It was horrible and I spent the entire night playing defense. I swear, the woman had invisible sets of hands.
In other news, how are you? How’s the remodel going?
Did I mention my parents will be at my house for the first game? If not, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before now. If you don’t mind asking Alice to make sure the spare bedrooms and bathrooms are ready for company, I’d really appreciate it.
Ross
“So, Bo tells me Big Shot is back in business,” Charlotte says with a wink.
Groaning, I shake my head and laugh into my beer. “Did he now?”
She gives me a knowing grin. “He did, but you can thank Casey for the nickname. Seems as though she’s got all the insider information. Why don’t they use that during games? It’s so good… Ross Big Shot Davies.” Her eyes grow wide. “The ladies would go nuts.”
Bo just about busts a gut as he tries to hold back his laughter.
“They don’t because i
t’s in my contract,” I tell her with a leveled stare. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that little nugget to yourself.”
Her hands go up in surrender. “Fine,” she says. “It’ll just be our little inside joke.” She glances at Bo and then back at me, her lips twitching with a smile. “But I can’t promise my sister won’t use it in one of her mid-game tirades. You know how passionate she gets and when she’s in the moment, she can’t hold her tongue.”
Suddenly, my neck feels hot and I pull at the collar of my t-shirt, then chug the remainder of my beer and hold the empty mug in the air for a refill.
“You know,” Bo says, saving me from having to respond. “I’ve never seen someone get so heated without ever letting a cuss word fly. Have you ever heard her use anything stronger than freaking or flipping or shut the front door?”
His mimic of Casey is surprisingly good and the ache in my chest when I think about her grows. I also want to tell them I do know what it’s like when she gets passionate about something… or someone.
I know what it’s like when that someone’s me.
It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past month.
I’d also like to go on record and tell them Casey’s mouth can get filthy without ever uttering a dirty word.
Don’t even get me started on how X-rated those sounds she makes are.
“Are things working out okay with her working for you?” Charlotte asks after our waitress brings us all a refill. “She doesn’t say much about work, but I noticed she’s spent quite a few nights at your house. Usually, she goes there in the morning and gets things going, comes back to help me for a few hours, and then goes back to your house for the night.” Charlotte pauses and takes a sip of wine and I feel like she wants to ask me something, but instead, she just continues detailing her observations and I soak up everything she’s giving me. “I know for a fact when I’m out of town, she stays there. I bet it’s nice knowing someone’s keeping such a close eye on everything while you’re gone.”
“Yeah,” I tell her, nodding my head as I stare down into my beer, afraid to make eye contact. “It’s really helped me focus on Spring Training.”