Did you know ribs have muscles on them that can be defined by shredding and working out like a maniac? Neither did I until I saw Cory’s side.
No wonder he’s one of the absolute best in the game, his name already stamped and ready to be voted on when it comes to the Baseball Hall of Fame. He’s a first-round pick for sure, and it’s because of his consistent hard work, which was showing this afternoon.
After we joked around some more and he winked at me—oh God, he winked—I made an excuse to run to the bathroom and escape the magnificent view that is Cory Fucking Potter.
Leaning forward, I splash some water on my face and then dry my skin with the hand towel, taking a few deep breaths. The entire day has been an emotional roller coaster and we still have some time left on this boat, some cruising with booze, and all I can think about is even after we’re done here, I have to go back to a hotel room with him.
Staring into the mirror, I whisper, “You got this. He’s hot, yes, but hot means nothing. You’ve seen hot people before.”
But hot and kind? That’s a deadly combination, one I’m not sure I can handle.
“No,” I say. “You can handle this. You are to treat him as a friend and when you get back to the hotel, you’re going to find a man to make out with because you need to loosen up.” I shake my shoulders and blow out a long breath. “Loosen up. Loosen up.”
It’s been a while since I’ve had sex . . . like a really long fucking time thanks to Ansel’s cheating—and you can bet I got tested immediately after I found out. Thankfully I’m clean. But now as I’m stuck on an island with probably the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on, it’s doing funny things to my lady parts—like getting them inappropriately excited while playing cards, aching when he holds my hand under water, or twinging with need when he throws his head back and laughs.
See, I need to get laid.
Fluffing my hair, I take a deep breath, dig up some courage, and walk back to the top deck to join the girls where I sit next to Dottie.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Oh yup, everything is great. Just wonderful,” I say, my voice more high-pitched than I would prefer.
And Dottie detects it.
“Cory with his shirt off giving you some feelings?”
I glance quickly at Milly who’s talking to Emory, both of them lost in their conversation. “Can you please keep your voice down? I really don’t need anyone knowing I find him attractive.”
“Please, everyone on this boat, including the men, find Cory Potter attractive. No one would be surprised.”
“Still, keep your voice down.”
“Sure, now tell me what you two were talking about up on the top deck. We could hear you laughing from the ocean.”
“Nothing much. Just that we’re going to treat this vacation as a friend-trip.”
“What?” Dottie hisses. “You’re putting yourself in the friend zone?”
“Firmly,” I say with a nod.
“Why the hell would you do that? Have you lost your mind?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m thinking clearly. This is not up for discussion because I have a plan.”
“You have a plan?” Dottie asks with cynicism. “What kind of a plan?”
“A get Natalie laid plan.”
“You want to get laid?” Dottie asks, louder than I appreciate, drawing the attention from Milly and Emory.
“What’s this?” Emory asks, her cute belly starting to show. Not sure when she’s due, but what I do know is she’s one of the cutest pregnant ladies I’ve ever seen. “You want to get laid?”
I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment.
“She does,” Dottie answers for me. “Apparently, she’s ready to shuck her pants on this vacation.”
“Oh.” Emory rubs her hands together. “Who should we—” She pauses, and a giant smile crosses her face before she elbows Milly in the arm. “You should hook her up with your brother. They’re sharing a room already. God, how easy would it be to share a bed too?”
From the corner of my panicked eye, I see Dottie’s face morph into what I can only describe as a smile the Grinch is famous for. “Oh yeah, you should hook her up with Cory.”
If I could slam Dottie’s head against the side of the boat and get away with it, I would right about now. The temptation is real.
Before Milly can say anything, I say, “No. Not Cory. Not my type.”
Milly’s expression is unreadable while Emory’s brow pinches together in confusion. “Not your type?” she asks, surprised. “How on earth is he not your type? I’m pretty sure he’s Knox’s type.”
Things I don’t want to happen: Milly knowing I actually have a crush on her brother because Lord knows, she’d tell him, and being questioned why he’s not my type, when in fact he’s so my type that it hurts to even look at him most of the time.
“You know, maybe we change the subject. How about all those fish?” I ask. “What are they called? A school, right?”
“Don’t distract us with colorful fish talk,” Dottie says, making me want to take back my blessing of her dating my brother. “Tell us why Cory isn’t your type.” God, she’s so evil.
Clearing my throat, I play with the corner of my towel and say, “Well, you know, I’m . . . a . . . I’m partial to uh . . . you know . . .” I point my finger. “Just too many abs.”
Nothing.
Not one single word from the mouths of the three pair of eyes staring at me. Just the occasional shocked blink, as if what I said was the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever heard.
Because it was.
It really freaking was. Who doesn’t like abs? Whoever complains about a person having too many abs? Me . . . apparently.
Finally, Emory asks, “Natalie, this might be a personal question, but have you ever had sex with someone who has abs like Cory’s?”
I twist my hands together and say, “I’ve only ever had sex with Ansel.”
The girls all gasp, even Milly. “What?” Emory whispers, looking around. “You’ve only had sex with one man?”
“Well, we met in middle school, and we were together until we married. I never had a chance to explore other men.”
“Did Ansel have abs?” Dottie asks, her voice a little softer, possibly more understanding.
“Um, not really. His stomach was flat but there wasn’t any definition. He did have nice knuckles.”
“Knuckles,” Emory deadpans. “He had nice . . . knuckles?” She snorts, before covering it up and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but did you really say knuckles?”
I laugh too, trying to assure the girls it’s okay to joke around me. I’m a fun person. “I mean, they made his hands look mature. It matters when he was all over me with them. Nothing like seeing a youthful hand on your thigh to kill the mood. Old-man knuckles is where it’s at.”
“Oh God.” Dottie covers her mouth and laughs. “You’re kind of a freak and I like it. Okay, let’s be on the lookout for old-man knuckles for our friend here.” Dottie asks Milly, “Does Cory have old-man knuckles?”
She shrugs. “No idea. I know he has knuckles, at least.”
“Enough with the knuckles, we need to talk about having sex with a man with abs,” Emory says looking me straight in the eyes. “You need to know what it’s like to look down the man who’s driving his pelvis into you and see the flexing and contracting of his tight, perfectly defined abs. It’s positively the sexiest thing ever. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
Given the expanse of sculpted and roped skin that sits only a few feet away, I can only imagine every girl sitting around me having a positive opinion on the matter. I glance behind me to take a quick look at the men sunbathing on the boat. The best bodies I’ve ever seen lined up in a row, neon bathing suit trunks spanning over their crotches, like a sign, pointing at their penises, telling exactly where to look next after you’ve gotten your fill of their corded torsos.
Milly and Dottie both nod their heads at Emory’s question.
“Abs aren’t everything,” Emory continues, “but let me tell you, they’re a very nice added bonus.” I shrug, as if it doesn’t matter to me. And it doesn’t, but I mean, if the guy has abs, I’m not going to ask him to put them away either.
Stepping in, Dottie says, “Okay, so Cory is not your type.” She gives me a look, and I know she’s calling me out with her eyes about me being a liar. That’s fine, as long as she keeps using her eyes and not her mouth. “Let’s see if we can find someone on this island who will light up that dusty flower you have between your legs.”
“Can you not call it dusty . . . or a flower for that matter?” Emory says with a disgusted look. “But I do like the idea of finding an island romance for her. There are a lot of employees at the resort we could flirt with.”
I smile at the girls and say, “Or how about we spend our time here, sunbathing and relaxing?”
“Or . . .” Dottie says with a smirk, “we can hook you up with Cory.”
Good God, woman.
“I like that idea too,” Emory adds.
When we all look at Milly, she shrugs, but doesn’t say anything. Instead she picks up her drink and sips from it.
Ten bucks says she relays this entire conversation to Cory before dinner tonight. Twenty bucks says that he’ll roll his eyes at his sister and say thanks, but no, thanks. Because Cory Fucking Potter doesn’t need any handouts. All he has to do is look a girl in the eyes, and they’ll be his for the night.
* * *
“Think Jason will let me snuggle on him if I ask?” Cory says, coming up next to me at the back of the boat, where I’ve been sitting for the last half hour, taking in the vast array of clear water. The couples—as they will now be referred to as—are all at the front of the boat, lying on the mesh netting, snuggled up together. It was really cute, but also nauseating, so I went to the back to take in the wake we’re leaving in the ocean. Totally riveting. Not. But it is peaceful, and that’s not a bad thing.
“Pretty sure Jason would kick Dottie off the boat to have a chance to spoon with you.”
A low rumble of a laugh shakes his chest. “Is it weird that I enjoy his man crush?”
“It’s only weird if you give him blue balls and never give in to his outpouring of love toward you.”
“Ah,” he hisses and leans back on the lounger next to me. “I wouldn’t ever give the man blue balls, just playing hard to get.”
“He loves a challenge.” Leaning back as well, I say, “So tell me about Baltimore, what do you miss?”
“Do you want to make me cry?”
I tilt my head to the side to look at him. “Stop, you know you’re not going to cry.”
“Nah.” He playfully shakes his head. “But I do still feel raw about the whole trade.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. “You went through half a season with the team, and you’re about to start a new one.”
“Exactly. And yet I don’t feel like I really mesh with any of the guys.” He leans toward me but keeps his body facing forward, and I catch a quick indent of his pecs, before I lift my eyes back to his. Thank God for sunglasses. “Baltimore was routine. I knew everything, everyone. I had my favorite places to go, no one bothered me, at least not that much, and I was able to live a somewhat normal life with friends and play the sport I love. I don’t know, being blindsided and sent to a team that lacks the moral integrity I’ve based my entire professional career over hasn’t felt right.”
“You don’t feel like you can be yourself in Chicago, even though it’s where you’re from?”
He lets out a long stream of air and says, “Yeah, I guess I don’t feel at home, even though technically I am home.”
“I can relate to that, having your entire routine flipped upside down. It’s hard to start a new one, but you’ll get there.”
I pause and study him, watching him determine whether our circumstances are actually similar. He looks at me with such depth and sincerity. Just don’t ask me about Ansel.
“You get it, don’t you, Natalie? Takes time, yeah?”
I nod, because my throat’s tight from holding in my grief. Sometimes it just hits me. I wasn’t enough for my husband. He pushes his hand through his hair, making the ends stick up in every direction.
“There was this bagel place around the corner from my apartment. They had the best bagels I ever tasted. Crispy outside, chewy inside. It was rare that I would treat myself, but when I did, I’d get two, eat them in my car on the way to the stadium, and then hide the evidence, as if my nutritionist would inspect my car.”
“Was your car ever inspected?”
“No, or else they would find a few receipts for double bagel day in the console.”
“Double bagel day?” I chuckle. “Is that what you called it?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. It was a fucking treat for me. Once a month, I planned for it.”
“Looks like you need to find a new bagel place. Have you tried Oliver’s?”
“Yeah, good, but not as good as Geo’s in Baltimore. I don’t know if it was the stained, dirty tile that made the place so great, or the ripped wallpaper, but this place was fucking awesome. And they never paid attention to my celebrity status. They gave me what I desired and moved on to the next customer. I called their shop once after I was traded to see if they shipped bagels and they said no. So basically, I have a bagel-sized hole in my heart.”
“How devastating,” I say, playing along. “It wouldn’t have been the same though if they shipped the bagel. The dirty tile and torn wallpaper wouldn’t have been there.”
“Unless I asked them to ship a piece of their shop with the bagel, then I would get the full experience.”
“Dirty tiles and bagels shipped together . . . doesn’t get better than that.”
“I can taste the crispy bagel as we speak.” Growling in frustration, he points at me and says, “You owe me a trip to Baltimore for a bagel for bringing it up.”
I reach for my phone and say, “Let me cue up my private jet, I’ll have you there in no time.”
Chapter Eleven
CORY
“You’re being weird.” I poke Milly in the arm while we sit at the bar waiting for everyone else to join us for dinner. “Feeling okay after the boat ride?”
She nods. “Yeah, it’s just that”—she bites her lip and looks over her shoulder—“where’s Natalie?”
“In the room getting ready. I thought giving her some space would be smart. Why?”
Milly rarely has a hard time telling me anything, but she looks like she’s about to vomit with whatever’s sitting heavily on her heart.
“Come on, Mills, what’s going on? You look pale.”
“I just . . .” She takes a deep breath and says, “I think you should not focus on Natalie.”
Ohhh-kay.
“Well, we’re on a friend-trip right now. And I have zero plans of making a move on her because as we discussed, she’s in a different headspace than me. Why are you bringing this up? Did she say something?”
Milly rests her hand on my forearm and says, “I know you, Cory, inside and out, and when you give in to your feelings, you’re all in. It’s hard for you to hold them back.”
“Yeah, it’s why I’m trying to handle this situation with care and treat it as a friendship.”
“Okay, I think that’s smart.”
“Why? What did she say?” I ask, seeing there’s more to what Milly is saying.
“I don’t want to upset you and honestly, I’m not quite sure if I believe what she said, but I figured I’d warn you anyway.”
My pulse picks up. So Natalie did say something about me. From the pained look in Milly’s eyes, she’s treading with caution, probably because I’ve been against getting involved with anyone for so long, until Natalie came along. Not that it’s an option. I can see Milly trying to sugarcoat whatever she’s about to say.
“Just get on with it, Mills.”
“Okay, yeah, sorry. We were talking about Natalie needi
ng to uh . . . get out there.” Milly wiggles her eyebrows and I catch her drift. Natalie is looking for those flings she talked about. Okay, that doesn’t make me feel ragey inside at all. Not one bit . . .
“Emory suggested hooking up with you.”
I frown. “Yeah, I don’t want a hookup.”
“I know, and I wanted to say that, but I kept my mouth shut. But before anyone could say anything else, Natalie practically shouted that you’re not her type.”
“Not her type?” Milly cringes even more, looking so apologetic it’s almost comical. So comical that I start to laugh. Really laugh, full-on belly laugh, folding over, hand-to-stomach.
“What’s so funny?” She chuckles too, my laughter contagious. “Seriously, Cory.” She pushes at my shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know, just seems like the way I’ve caught her checking me out here and there, I’m at least not dog trash to her.”
Milly laughs a little louder and nods. “Yeah, I thought the same thing. I’ve seen her glances.”
“Not her type.” I shake my head and laugh some more.
“Yeah.” Milly’s voice lightens up. “She said she doesn’t like abs.”
That makes me laugh even harder to the point of tears. “Oh shit. Who doesn’t like abs?”
“Exactly. I thought it was weird, especially when she said she likes knuckles. Old-man knuckles.”
I snort so hard I strain the back of my throat, as I grip the bar, the hilarity taking over. “Old-man knuckles? Oh fuck. That’s amazing.” I glance at my hands and flash them at Milly. “What do you think? Should I put my knuckles on display tonight and see what happens?”
“Maybe rub one against her cheek, see if she orgasms.”
“Ha.” I guffaw so loud we’re starting to gather attention. “Now that’s something. Orgasm by knuckle. I know what my new goal in life is.”
“Hey,” Carson says, coming up next to us. “What’s so funny?”
Milly and I exchange glances and then laugh again while shaking our heads. “Nothing you need to worry about, bro,” I say, standing from my seat at the bar and offering it to him so he can sit next to his wife.
The Trade Page 13