by Natalie Wrye
I can still feel his anger thirty minutes after the last pitch.
Yesterday’s high is obliterated by today’s lousy game and the team who beat us. The Bruisers literally put a bruising on us, and whatever momentum the Chicago Cougars had going after last night’s win, whatever magic mojo actually helped us beat one of the best teams in our conference by one point, is plenty gone just twenty-four hours later.
And it’s all my fault.
My head isn’t in the game, and it hasn’t been for a while.
Not with this paternity case on my conscience. And not with Emily on my mind.
I shed my shirt in the overheated locker room after the game, slamming it inside my locker as Sawyer walks up.
“God, I need a blowjob.”
“Could you not say that so loudly?” I don’t even try to open my eyes as the clothes-changing second baseman sidles up beside me. I glance over at him. “Or maybe re-think saying it so loudly in a locker room full of men?”
“Well, can someone tell me when we can leave this bloody aftermath and find some women? My flight back to Chicago lands before yours, and I can’t wait to get back.” Sawyer grumbles, his voice growing louder. “Losing a game always fucks up my mood, and right now, I’m too anxious to stay still and too horny to keep moving around. I mean, a stiff breeze at the right angle would put ‘little me’ into full-mast at the moment, and being around so many swinging sausages with zero lady-buns to put them between is depressing me even more.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say in my best announcer voice, eyes still on my locker. “Introducing you to Chicago Cougars’ ‘Pig of the Year’: Sawyer Kennedy.”
The baseman laughs, his deep voice artificially low. “Thank you, thank you. It’s not an easy job I’ll tell you, but someone has to do it.”
I finally give him my full attention. “We’re all smart enough to get the obvious point you’re trying to make here, Saw. Most of us did get college educations.”
“Pump your brakes, Sterling.” He rolls his eyes, his blue irises tumbling backward. “I wouldn’t say most of us. Can’t vouch for Mr. Failed-Underwater-Basket-Weaving over there.”
He motions towards our teammate James, who acknowledges him with the middle-finger salute.
I snort out loud, the sound mingling with the melody of Jim Morrison crooning throatily inside the singular headphone hanging out of one my ears. I slap a towel over my shoulder before fastening one around my waist. “And I know Lenny and I already schooled you on that back in college, Captain Swine. Having this many women on the road? Always a distraction. And not a good one.” I glance around the locker room and at the few down-mouthed teammates still occupying it. “As you can tell from the shit way we played today.”
Sawyer stands up straighter, a new glint in his blue eye. “Women have never been a distraction for me, thank you very much. I always play best post-orgasm.”
He slips on a clean shirt from his locker, sighing as he sits on the bench beside me, his body shifting the heavy wood. I hear the framework groan under his weight.
“Besides,” he blows out in one breath. “You’re one to talk, Sterling.” The glint in his eye turns full-on glimmer, a grin sliding across his face. “In case you’re forgetting, it was only hours ago that I caught you on top of that sexy brown-haired piece.” He leans forward. “Care to explain that?”
I wipe my face with the towel over my shoulder, hiding the flame that hits my face. I exhale loudly. “There’s nothing to explain.”
“Bull. You looked as nervous as I was in the back seat of my dad’s pinto on prom night with Gina Salvatore straddling me like one of my granddad’s prized stallions.”
“I’m guessing this Gina chick was good enough with her mouth to warrant a trip down memory lane?”
“Not even. I never got to experience her mouth. I was so damn nervous and drunk I threw up in the back seat.”
That little revelation finally removes me from my little music-filled reverie. I pull the lone headphone (and the sounds of The Doors’ lead singer’s raspy voice) out of my ear. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of pulling a repeat right here, right now…”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one who looks like he’s going to lose his lunch at the mention of that pretty brunette.”
He keeps talking.
“Listen, man, I get it. You’ve got yourself a little secret…”
My mouth turns dry as I wait for Sawyer to finish that sentence.
“It isn’t like I’ve haven’t found myself in a married woman’s bed a time or two.” He shrugs. “I was young and reckless. And I haven’t been that way in about ten…”
He glances down at the large-faced watch on his wrist.
“Hours?” I interrupt, smiling hard.
“You laugh now, but I’ve grown since we were in college.”
I toss him a pointed look. “You’ve grown?”
“Sure have. My cock is much bigger now than it was then.”
He grabs his Cougars gym bag, as the rest of the locker room clears out behind him. “Is that why you’ve been abstaining, bro? Got your mind on the secret brunette?”
He nudges me, and I shake my head, finally slamming the locker and locking it so I can head for the showers. I shrug off the chill that travels down my spine. “Nah, that’s not it.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows rise. “But you’re not screwing anyone. Clearly.”
“That’s because I want to keep my focus on the game. Until we meet up with the Bruisers at least. I’m going to need every bit of my focus if we want to beat those fuckers. And for your information, I don’t plan on pulling a repeat of your prom night, so to speak.”
The bearded player starts to nod, but then he stares out the open doorway as a few players leave the locker room, rendering it empty. He looks over at me, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You sure about that ‘not repeating prom night’ part?”
I glance out of the open doorway beside him, finally catching sight of what has his undivided attention.
My tongue turns to sand.
It’s hard to miss the long dark hair swaying there…along with the body that’s attached to it.
Two familiar faces stare out the entryway, and I have to fight as my gaze flicks from one face—Naomi’s, to the other.
Emily stands in the doorway, wearing one of her famous skirt suits fitted over her curvy frame, her soft hair pulled back into a ponytail.
Eyes narrowing, I stretch to my full six-foot-three height, my headphones in one hand and towel in the other.
With the lyrics to “Break on Through” by The Doors still playing softly in my mind even without the earphones, I can barely move as several sets of eyes settle on me.
I try to walk, but find myself unable to move. So Sawyer does instead, stepping forward to greet our unexpected guests.
I watch Emily’s hazels widen noticeably, her gaze sweeping to the towel around my waist and back. She crosses her hands in front of her waist with a proud lift to her chin.
“Sevin.” Just that. Just the one word… And the sound of it coming from her full, pink lips leaves my blood pumping straight between my legs.
“Emily.” I offer in response. I glance at my assistant. “What are you guys doing here, Nome?”
She raises a well-defined eyebrow. “We have to talk to you before the flight back to Chicago. And since I know you’re always the last to leave the locker room, I figured it wouldn’t be such a hassle to come meet you here.” She peers around the empty locker room. “So? Are you going to let us in or not?”
Sawyer chimes in, giving Naomi a hard time. As usual. “Depends. What’s the password?”
“Um, I don’t know…” She crosses her arms across her ample cleavage. “Move?”
He takes a step towards her, one side of his face pulling into a half-smirk. “Guess again.”
But Naomi meets him toe for toe, her hard glare challenging Sawyer behind a pair of spectacles thicker than plate-glass. She
cocks her head.
“Seriously, Saw? Could you be a bigger prick right now?”
“Is that a rhetorical question or would you like me to answer honestly?”
“Please. Don’t say a word. I already know the answer.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you know me so well.”
“I wish I could say the same on my end.” She smiles semi-sweetly, and Sawyer finally steps aside, smiling as he unblocks the doorway, bowing at the waist.
“You may now enter. Uptight princesses first, of course.” He starts to exit, waving over his shoulder. But he notices Emily before he disappears around the corner, one steady finger pointing in my direction. “I’ll see you back in Chicago, Sterling. Looks like we’ll have a lot to talk about. I’ll make sure of it.”
And I know I haven’t seen the end. Not of Sawyer’s question or his badgering. I know both will be waiting for me back in the Windy City.
With Sawyer out and my spitfire assistant leading the way, the two women enter the locker room.
But my eyes aren’t focused on the first woman to step inside.
No. They’re on the perfect brunette ambling behind her.
And even at this distance, I smell her perfume. The sweet, understated smell of lilies and honey combined with something indiscernible that makes my formerly soft dick harden underneath my heavy towel almost to the point of pain.
I close my eyes, counting to five until she finally stops.
Luckily, prayers do work. My rising dick dies down.
I lower my hands with the other towel to cover it. Just in case.
I exhale. “So, how can I help you, ladies?”
It’s not long before Naomi fills me in all the new details emerging from Deborah Jett’s upcoming meeting with The Firm and me back in Chicago tomorrow. My flight back to Chicago is tonight but tomorrow is absolutely booked with this blackmail crap. Emily listens intently, making no indication that just nine hours ago, I’d been seconds away from devouring her body into ecstasy.
She nods, her face calm and collected. Even when Naomi finishes up with a sentence that puts a ball of tension in my throat.
“So it’s settled then?” Naomi prods.
“What is?”
“We’ll turn over Charlie to Deborah. Have you sign away any fiscal and custodial responsibility. And get Deborah to move forward with the non-disclosure agreement. No muss. No fuss.”
My eyes drill Naomi. “And Deborah agreed to all this?”
“Yes.” She nods. “Surprisingly.”
I plant a hand against my locker. “Sounds like a trick.”
“Honestly, I don’t care what it sounds like,” my dutiful assistant responds. “As long as we can get this crazy woman out of our lives. Kayla’s met up with her in New York and she’s finalizing all of the details before they meet us in Chicago tomorrow.”
I inhale. “So, that’s it, then?”
“Pretty much.”
“And we don’t want to do any paternity tests?”
“Why?” Naomi’s pretty face scrunches behind her glasses, her brown bob swaying. “Did you want to?”
I’ve never known Naomi to be callous. But this entire case is so business-like, so straight to the point.
Normally, this would be what I want from her. It’s why I hired her.
But now? Now, the thought of treating Charlie and this paternity suit like business is making me feel like Sawyer on his prom night.
Sick to my stomach.
I peek over at Emily, who says nothing. “And you agree with doing all of this? Just…moving forward?”
Emily’s amber-green eyes burn into mine, the fire there duller than ever before. She clasps her hands. “Yes,” she utters stolidly, her jaw unmoving. “That was the job, really. To get this paternity-blackmail case behind us without any affect on your personal or professional career. And if this is the way to do it…” She trails off, her voice throaty. “Then I’m on board.”
A moment passes between us as we stare at each other.
But Naomi doesn’t notice. She’s too busy writing notes and texting Kayla to tell her that the Chicago meeting is still on.
But me?
I notice everything. I notice how uncomfortable Emily is, standing there, pretending that this—us, Charlie—is just business.
Naomi finishes tapping on her phone just as Emily breaks eye contact. My eyes pull back to Naomi reluctantly as she clucks out loud.
“Perfect. That’s all I needed.” She glances over her shoulder. “But now I need to get out of here. Charlie’s just around the corner, making friends with the mascot. Gotta go take her to get some ice cream before she implodes. She’s taking your guys’ loss pretty hard.”
I grunt, and the words “Like father, like daughter” die on my mouth. I swallow. “Yeah, she’s pretty invested in the game.”
Naomi reaches out to squeeze my arm. “And she’s not the only one.” She tightens her grip once. “Don’t take the loss so personal, Sev. You’ve bounced back from worse.”
She has no idea.
I nod, and Naomi turns, heading out of the empty locker room, leaving Emily and I alone.
But I can’t look at her.
A rage that has nothing to do with today’s loss beats inside my chest.
She calls my name, but I’m already crossing the locker room quickly, heading to the showers.
I reach one hand inside a curtain, turning the shower head on, and the stream of water barely starts spraying towards the tile before I hear her voice behind me. Closer than before.
I don’t turn, don’t speak, don’t move until the touch of a soft palm lands against my back, making breathing impossible. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before opening them.
“You’re an excellent actor, Miss Armand,” I speak, never facing her.
Her voice is strong when she replies. “Just trying to keep up with you, Mr. Smith.”
“I almost believed last night that you gave a shit about Charlie.”
“Don’t.” The word wavers, but is shockingly loud. The force of it hits my skin. “Don’t say that. Don’t try to pretend that I don’t care. You know I do. But you know as much as I do that I can’t change anything. I still have a career to protect. And I didn’t do such a great job of it this morning. And you have a career to protect, too, Sevin. Let’s not forget…” She stumbles before continuing, her tone softening. “You didn’t say anything to stop this either. You’re still trying to protect what matters to you.”
“And what if that’s changed?”
I swing around this time, slowly, shifting on my feet. My eyes cast downwards to stare into the face of what is easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known, and the words come out thicker than I expected, my throat clogging with lust and something else I won’t even admit to myself.
I haven’t felt this way about someone since…
Shit. I haven’t felt this way about anyone. Ever. Not even Kimmy.
The realization makes the words rush out of my mouth.
“What if what matters to me has changed, kitten?”
I’m tempted to grab her. To wrap my fingers around her neck and pull her into me. To drag her fully clothed with me into the shower and cause her to be soaking in more ways than one.
But the sound of footsteps approaching cause me to look up and I find Naomi marching towards us, her brown eyes wide.
“Okay, so ice cream has to be put on a back burner. Turns out someone is sick.”
My heart drops and I step away from the shower curtain, my throat squeezing. “Charlie?”
“Uh, no. Someone named Felix?” Her brows furrow. “I have no idea who this Felix is, but apparently they’re throwing up all over the place.”
A moment of silence fills the air. I know there’s so many items I have to cross off my checklist before tonight.
Meet with my trainer. Talk to Coach.
Get my actual shit together.
But everything that seemed like such a usual
priority slides to second-place in my mind.
The time I have with Charlie is limited. And I can’t afford to waste it.
Naomi presses me, her shoulders hunched. “And does anyone want to tell me who the hell Felix is?”
I peer over at Emily and find the same worried look in her eyes. I direct my gaze back to Naomi. “He’s a family member. One we apparently need to take care of.”
I reach around turning off the shower head. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 20
EMILY
Saturday evening
Who knew that bringing a sick cat aboard a flight could be such a big problem?
Using Sevin’s celebrity status to smuggle Felix in an oversized purse (vomit bag included) isn’t a hassle, but keeping a lid on the now noisy cat is definitely a struggle as we depart Arizona’s warm spring air to head back into the semi-winter chill of Chicago in March.
My meeting with Stephan tomorrow night looms in the back of my mind even when we land. And though I know I should warn Sevin of Stephan’s impromptu meeting with me and of the possible hiccups to come, I can’t quite form the words.
Even when we stumble into the back of Sevin’s hired driver’s truck, heading to the nearest vet with speed.
I pull my coat tighter, turning to Sevin in the truck’s humongous back seat.
“What do you know about this vet we’re taking Felix to?”
He hisses back, his voice too low for Charlie to hear. “Practically nothing. Naomi sent a few names over. I picked whatever I saw first.”
I whisper in his ear. “What a wise way of choosing. Remind me to never use you to play the lotto.”
“It was the only way of choosing. In case you got any better ideas…”
But I don’t.
I’m freaking out. I’ve never had a pet in my almost twenty-five years of living. Not even one of those pet rocks from childhood that did absolutely nothing.
Shocker.
Felix, sick as hell, cuddles inside Sevin’s muscular arms, and yet I’m the one feeling like I’m going to throw up.
I’m not good in an emergency. Not this kind, anyway.
And against my better judgment, I can’t stop blabbing. Can’t stop rattling off random facts about shit that makes no sense.