“I had nowhere else to go.”
“What about your house?”
He snuggles under the blanket, trying to get warm. I reach for the remote to turn the fire up, knowing that it won’t take much time to raise the temperature of the room.
“It’s crazy there. The press is camped out front. They’re always talking and have their lights flashing into my windows. People walk by and scream at me, calling me names. I can’t do anything or go anywhere without them following me. I can’t even order food without it being on television.”
Anxiety starts to overtake my thoughts. “So they followed you here?”
“No; I snuck out my back door and took the alley. I needed to get out of there.”
“But why here?”
Travis looks at me with his disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow. “Because you believe me.”
His words are heart crushing and cause me to choke on the air I was exhaling. I try to make my cough sound like an ailment and not a reaction that I’ve been caught off guard. He pats my back as I cover my mouth, waiting for the tickle to subside. I reach for my glass of cider only to realize there is hardly a drop left.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I’m off the couch in a flash, not waiting for him to answer.
“A beer or something very hard so I can forget everything.”
I ignore his request and brew us both a cup of coffee instead. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night of sitting around, with minimal talking and a lot of thinking. With two mugs in my hand, I offer him one. “Sorry, I don’t drink.”
“Really? Since when?” I know he’s remembering our night together. We drank a lot that night, and neither of us was in any shape to drive, but I did.
“It doesn’t matter. Alcohol is the last thing you need right now.” He takes the mug and brings it to his lips, sipping quietly.
“Is Lucy sleeping?”
“Yeah, she is.” Most of my clients have met Lucy. We’ve attended a lot of the family events that teams hold or she’ll go to games with me. I try not to let family and work mix, but there are times when it can’t be avoided.
“Look, about earlier today—”
“I know,” I say, cutting him off. He doesn’t have to tell me that the heady kiss was a mistake. I already know it was and can’t happen again. The fact that I’m attracted to my client is a no-win for me, and I really need to find a way to overcome the desire I feel for him.
“You know what?” he asks, meeting my gaze.
“That what we did was a mistake.”
He chuckles, reaffirming my feelings. At least that’s what I think he’s doing until his laughter almost sounds sarcastic. Travis sets his coffee cup down on my table and sits back against the couch, running his hand through his damp hair. “Nothing about what happened today, with us, is a mistake, Saylor. I like you a lot, in case you haven’t figured that out yet, and short of skywriting it, I don’t know how else to show you.” He’s looking at me as if he can see right through me.
I swallow hard, and my hands tremble as I try to pretend that he doesn’t have any effect on me, but he does, and I hate it. He makes me feel both weak and desired. Both are emotions that I shouldn’t feel when I’m around him.
“We can’t.”
“I know, you keep saying that, but I don’t understand why. I know you feel something for me.”
Why can this man read me like an open book? I’ve tried to stay shut off from him, avoid being the PR member that has to deal with him, unless directed by Jeffrey. And yet, here I am smack-dab in the middle of his biggest crisis, eager to help him, desperate for his attention, and determined to keep him a mile away from me. “It’s not about what I feel or don’t feel, Travis. It’s unprofessional for us to be involved.”
“So I’ll use another firm.”
I shake my head and place my mug on the coffee table. “Switching now would not be beneficial to your career or the case pending against you. Drastic measures such as that usually lead people to think you’re guilty, and that’s the last thing we want. Besides, who’s to say we’d even work out as a couple? You like women far too much.”
He looks away, unable to deny my statement. The last thing I would ever do is enter into a relationship with him, knowing that he has a wandering eye and hands that can’t seem to stay at his sides.
I take our mugs back into the kitchen and busy myself with washing them, even though they can go into the dishwasher. Being away from him allows my mind to clear and my body to stop trying to pull him near. I jump when a strong arm wraps around me and the other shuts off the water. I’m cocooned in a blanket of warmth as he presses into my back. My traitorous body sags against his as he nestles into my neck.
“Travis.”
“I only want to hold you,” he says, his words ghosting over my shoulder. I can give him this moment while we’re protected in my home, but nothing else. My heart would never survive being broken by him, but right now he needs some comfort. And I rather enjoy the way his arms feel around me. I wrap my arms around his, and he squeezes me tighter. His body sighs, while mine goes a mile a minute, reminding me that he isn’t wearing any pants, and my lady bits scream out for attention.
Earlier in the gym, I let him get the best of me. From the moment I saw his sweat-laden body, mine craved his, and I think he knew it. When he kissed me, I gave in to temptation, submitted to the desire that I feel for him each time he’s near, and more so since I’ve seen him more in the past few days than I have in months.
He turns me in his arms, and his erection brushes against me. Travis’s hand cups my cheek as his lips descend onto mine. The kiss is tender but full of emotion, and when his tongue enters my mouth, I whimper.
I want more when he pulls away. His thumb caresses my lip as he smiles, even though there’s sadness in his eyes. I want to take it all away for him, but I can’t.
“I would never hurt you, Saylor.”
Believing him, trusting him with my heart, would be stupid. I did that once with Lucy’s father, and while I may have won in the end with the birth of Lucy, the heartbreak was almost too much to handle.
“I want to believe that is true.”
“I’ll prove it. If you give me a chance.”
I shake my head, causing him to drop his hand from my face. Instead of stepping away and asking him to leave, I guide him over to the couch and pull him down next to me. I can be here for him and provide him comfort, but opening my heart to someone like him is impossible.
It’s late, and I know I have a busy day ahead of me, but the thought of leaving Travis alone doesn’t sit well. Reaching for the remote, I turn on the television and flip to a movie channel that I know won’t show anything about the scandal.
“I think I’ve seen this one,” he says, causing me to look at him. “The wife had an affair, and the other wife goes after the mistress’s husband.”
My mouth drops open as I look at him, and he shrugs.
“What?”
“You watch Lifetime?”
“Of course—how else do I know what women want?” He kisses me again, quickly, even though he knows nothing will ever come of it. I shake my head and laugh. Who knew that a guy like Travis Kidd was in tune with his feminine side?
Nine
Travis
Sneaking out of my house is something I’ve never had to do, even when I was a teenager. My parents didn’t care what I did, as long as my grades were kept up and I wasn’t breaking any laws. At other people’s houses, I’ve definitely jumped out of windows and shimmied down drainpipes. I even busted my arm sliding off the roof of a house of some girl I met at a basketball game. That act alone almost ruined my chances of playing ball my junior year of high school.
When you’re running because you’re trying to escape parents who came home too early, there’s an exhilaration that courses through your body. Your adrenaline pumps, and you feel invincible. That all changes when you’re forced to sneak out of your own house
to escape the onslaught of media and the names being hurled in your direction from onlookers. It makes you feel worthless.
Walking the darkened streets of Boston, hidden under a baseball cap with my jacket pulled up against my face to thwart off the wind and rain, I felt hopeless and found myself staring at Saylor’s apartment building. I had been here a few times before, but only as far as her door. The night she left me opened my eyes. I didn’t want her to be a one-night stand, or even two nights. I wanted to get to know her, and not only in the carnal way.
If I ever thought that Saylor was a sure thing, I would’ve been fooling myself. She’s far more mature than I am. She’s career minded and focused on raising her daughter. And determined to keep me on the periphery of her life. Even as I sit next to her, with my arm resting on her shoulder and my fingers playing idly in her hair, this is as close as she’ll let me come. With the exception of what transpired earlier today and the kiss we shared in her kitchen.
She yawns, and I use this opportunity to adjust the way I’m sitting and pull her closer. Never mind the fact that she’s fully clothed and I’m clad in a somewhat damp T-shirt and my boxers. There’s something definitely wrong with this picture. It’s like my role in life has been reversed. Usually, it’s me who is fully clothed and about to walk out the door, leaving behind a barely dressed woman. But something tells me that this is the way it needs to be, even if she won’t tell me why.
I know my reputation scares her. Fuck, it scares the shit out of me. Branch Singleton, the Renegades’ designated hitter and one of my good friends, has often said I was going to end up in trouble. Well, the fucker was right, because look at me now—dealing with what I never thought would happen: a rape accusation that I can’t even defend against yet, and other women claiming the same thing. Irvin says we have to wait and see if the district attorney is going to proceed with bringing charges against me. Until then, I’m supposed to keep a low profile and stay out of trouble. What better way to do that than in the arms of my publicist?
But here I sit, holding the woman that I have a massive crush on, and who keeps telling me we can’t be together. I can’t tell if this is some twisted irony or a wicked, shitty hand being dealt my way. Either way, I don’t want to give up the fight. Deep down, I know it can be a number of things; my job and schedule aren’t exactly conducive to dating, but her job affords her the ability to be at my games. My reputation and my antics off the field aren’t doing me any favors. I know that Saylor needs someone who is going to put her first—hell, even put her daughter first—and I want to be that person. I’m not sure how, though.
At some point during the night, Saylor leaves me on the couch. The house is quiet, and the fireplace is still glowing, letting off enough heat to keep me warm. With the quilt wrapped around my shoulders, I walk over to one of her two floor-to-ceiling windows and look out over the city. While Boston isn’t Vegas or New York City, we still have the ambience of a city that never sleeps. Lights dance off each other, guiding early morning travelers to their destinations while off on the horizon, the sun is starting to rise, and horns blow in the harbor as boats prepare for their day’s journey.
My arm brushes their Christmas tree, and my fingers pull on the needles. It’s fake, but who cares? The fact that she has one up speaks volumes. It’s been years since I’ve even seen a tree, because I spend most of my Christmases on my parents’ yacht in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. I reach down and plug the tree in. It sparkles as the white lights glow throughout Saylor’s quaint living room. Compared to my house, her apartment is small, but I feel more at ease here than I do in my own. I can feel the love that has been poured into this place to make it a home.
Above the fireplace, Lucy’s school picture is front and center. Her toothless grin is contagious, and I find myself smiling back at her. I pick up another framed photo and run my thumb over Saylor’s face. She and Lucy are posing with a reenactment solider, and they look happy. And I want that. I want to be a part of something where love is given unconditionally.
I look back at what became my makeshift bed and notice my jeans are folded and resting on the arm of the couch, and my shoes are sitting on the floor next to it. I should dress and leave before Saylor wakes, but I want to see her. I want to be part of their morning routine and see if I can fit in with them. It’s selfish of me to stay, but I need the normalcy. It’s also presumptuous to think that someday I’ll be here permanently, but I have hope. And right now I need a lot of hope to get me through the day.
I dress quickly, shocked to find that my jeans aren’t stiff like cardboard, and slip my shoes back on. Folding the blanket, I slip it under the sofa to ward off any ideas that Lucy might have about me being here and pull my phone out to order breakfast. It’s the least I can do for Saylor after she opened her home to me.
Once I have breakfast laid out, it’s only a matter of time before they both wake up. After I ordered, I stood in her doorway with the door cracked, waiting for the deliveryman. The last thing I wanted was for him to knock and wake either of them. Not only was Saylor up late with me, but it also probably would’ve scared the shit out of her.
The aroma of the pancakes, bacon, sausages, and eggs makes my stomach growl. I rush to the couch and turn on the television when I hear a door open. I don’t know who it is, but I’m hoping that whoever comes around the corner is happy to see me. I try to keep my eyes focused on the news, but I can’t. I’m watching the doorway like a hawk.
“I expected you to be gone when I woke up,” Saylor says as she ties the belt of her bathrobe into a knot. The sight of her in a fluffy robe to ward off the chill really turns me on. Who would’ve thought that thick winter wear would be a turn-on?
“I didn’t want to leave your door unlocked.” It’s a lie, but a good one.
“Oh,” she says, looking at the door. Is that my cue to leave? Probably, but I was acting dense, like I wasn’t following.
“I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for you and Lucy.” I point over to her island where mounds of takeout containers sit. “It’s a peace offering for letting me stay the night.”
Now would be a good time to leave, but instead I stand and go over to the island and open one of the containers. “Do you want me to fix you a plate?”
“No; you need to leave before Lucy wakes up.”
I nod, knowing this. I close the container and make my way toward her. She steps back, shutting me out in an instant. “Thank you for last night, Saylor,” I say. I want to kiss her goodbye or at least feel the softness of her cheek against my fingertips. As slowly as I can, I head to the door, knowing that she’s following me. She unlocks it as I slip on my jacket.
“Will I see you later?”
She nods but doesn’t make eye contact with me. I sigh and step out of her apartment. She shuts the door, and then I’m met with a series of noises indicating she’s locked it. I rest my hand on the thick piece of wood and imagine she’s doing the same, even though I have a feeling she’s not. After a long minute, I make my way down the hall only to realize that I’ve forgotten my hat. In an instant, I’m back at her door and knocking.
“What?” she asks, opening her door in a huff.
“I forgot my hat.”
She steps away, leaving her door open and giving me a chance to watch her walk around. Lucy appears in the hallway, claiming that she’s starving and asking her mom what smells so good. I can’t help but smile because I know that I did that.
Saylor freezes when she sees Lucy. She looks back at me, to my hat in her hand, and to her daughter. Saylor quickly stuffs my hat into her pocket before facing her daughter.
“Hi,” Lucy says, giving me a small wave. She’s dressed in a light-blue nightgown with a princess on the front, and her hair is a crazy mess of brown locks.
“Hey, Lucy. Do you remember me?” I’ve had the privilege of meeting Lucy a few times during the Renegade family functions or when Jeffrey has a party and invites me. I’ve also seen her in the stands, stuf
fing her face with pink cotton candy and pretending to give a shit about baseball.
She shrugs and walks toward the door, but her mother stops her before she gets too close. “Maybe. What’s your name?”
“Travis,” I tell her. “I’m on the baseball team.”
Lucy pretends to think about it, which makes me laugh. Little kids are the cutest, and honestly I wish we had more of them around. I’m looking forward to Cooper Bailey’s twins being older so I can play with them. Right now they sleep, eat, and shit, and when they aren’t doing any one of those three things, they cry.
“Oh yeah—I remember. Do you want to have breakfast with us? We’re having…” She pauses and looks up at her mom. “What are we having, Mom?”
“Um…”
“Breakfast sounds great. I’m starved.” It’s evil, and I know Saylor will kill me for it, but I invite myself back into their home. I take off my jacket and hang it on the hook next to Lucy’s. Seeing it there reaffirms my desire to be in Saylor’s life. I know it’s random to think of myself as part of their little family, but I want to. I want to feel secure, loved, and needed. I also know in order to do that, especially where Saylor is concerned, I need to get my shit together and stop acting like a college kid with a walking fucking hard-on all the time. She deserves better.
Lucy meets me halfway and walks me toward the kitchen. I know better than to look at Saylor, because if I do, I’ll see how angry she is. I know I should’ve told Lucy no, but who in their right mind can say that word to a little girl who looks like a miniature version of the woman you want to get to know? Hell, maybe I can find a way into Lucy’s heart, and Saylor will open up to me.
“Come on, Mom,” Lucy says as I help her climb onto the stool.
“Yeah, come on, Mom,” I add with a wink, and am rewarded with the most epic eye roll. Saylor marches into the kitchen and makes a cup of coffee with so much force that Lucy whispers to me, “She’s grouchy without coffee.”
Duly noted, kid. Next time, I come with coffee. Something tells me that if I can get Lucy to like me, she’ll spill all the secrets about her mother. All’s fair when it comes to love, right?
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