Crush

by Jen Doyle

  Hanging at Lakeside, he replied. U should come! I’ll grab you a seat.

  So here she was.

  And there Drew was, sitting at a table in the corner with a variety of Romanos and Duvals, which was enough to give any Santa Christa native pause. It was kind of like Romeo and Juliet had been a romance rather than a tragedy, and now the Montagues and the Capulets got together for weekly barbeques and babysat each other’s kids. Mind blown again.

  It was mostly the Romano brothers and their wives, although one of them was, in fact, Claudette. Who was now a Romano, Maggie realized. And Samson Duval was there, too. But Sam was sitting next to Olivia Anderson, one of the few girls Maggie had ever felt entirely comfortable with as she was growing up, so Maggie decided to take that as a sign that Santa Christa was ready to welcome her back. She headed on over, trying not to show her surprise when Drew waved and looked genuinely happy to see her and indicated she should take the empty seat next to him.

  Which she would have done immediately had not Olivia given a huge grin and exclaimed, “It is so great to see you here! Are you really moving back?”

  Maggie was in the midst of looking over her shoulder to see who Olivia was talking to, all the while wondering who else was moving back, when she was suddenly engulfed in a huge hug.

  She was the one Olivia was talking to.

  It was her Olivia was happy to see.

  Returning the hug with maybe a little too much enthusiasm, Maggie felt giddy laughter bubble up inside of her. This was the right decision. She was coming home and it was going to be okay.

  She pulled away from Olivia, gave a huge smile to everyone else at the table, and then hugged her brother and sat down next to him. Twenty minutes later they were well into a discussion about the Giants’ chances in the playoffs when Reid Romano’s face broke out into a broad grin. “Hey, there,” he said to someone over Maggie’s shoulder. “Want to join us? There’s room for one more.”

  13

  Maggie turned her head and even before she actually saw who he was talking to, her breath caught. It was as if her body sensed Alejandro’s presence before her brain did. He glanced down at her, his smile setting her entire being on fire. Which wasn’t a good thing—not if they were no longer going to be seeing each other, at least. Was this what it would be like every time they came across each other?

  She was glad he was saying hi to everyone else because her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it would jump right up through her chest if she spoke, and she had no interest in giving her true feelings away.

  But then he pulled a chair up between her and Savannah, Reid Romano’s wife, and put his arm across the back of Maggie’s chair, raising the eyebrows of every single person at the table, Maggie included. She turned to look at him and had to fight the nearly overwhelming desire to lean into him. “What are you doing here, Alejo?” she whispered.

  She’d never called him that before. It felt too familiar and she’d always been too off her game around him to feel anything close to that. Yet tonight the name spilled from her lips as a whole host of emotions thundered through her.

  As if that hadn’t been enough, when his eyes came down to meet hers and she saw that same something darkening his gaze, it didn’t matter that she’d been deluding herself about there being chance this could work—or that they were in the middle of a conversation with her brother and his friends, for that matter.

  “This,” he said, a split second before his hands went through her hair, and his mouth was claiming hers with so much heat that all she could see and feel around her was the shimmer and roar of flames.

  As she came out of her daze, she realized it wasn’t just her. Everything had come to a standstill, in fact. He’d caught the attention of pretty much everyone in the bar and they’d all frozen in place.

  Well, everyone except her brother, who was suddenly stammering, “What…? You…? How do you even know each other?”

  Just like that, the flames were doused. Maggie could feel all her prickliness come out as if forming a protective shield. “His mother is Mom’s maid.” It wasn’t what she should have said, of course. But lashing out with her ice cold whip was what she did best, unfortunately.

  “She is,” Alejandro confirmed, his eyes not leaving hers.

  Although she knew she should care about this ending up on Facebook, she didn’t. She didn’t even look around to see if any of the senior brigade was present. She was on a roll and she just couldn’t stop. “And because Dad said something horrible to him and he’s been thinking I was hiding him away because I didn’t want to be seen with him,” she went on.

  The smile left Alejandro’s face. Voice gravelly and low, Alejandro said, “I did.” Reaching for her hand, he added, “I was wrong. And I am desperately, all-consumingly sorry.”

  Annoyed that tears came to her eyes the moment he touched her, Maggie said, “You started this…us…as a way to prove something to my father. It was never about me.”

  She wanted the words to come out in a cool, unemotional way. Her sniffling rapidly wasn’t conducive to the vibe she was going for. That was for damn sure.

  Lacing his fingers through hers, Alejandro leaned closer. So close she could practically taste him. “I saw a beautiful woman in a bar,” he said. “A beautiful woman who had haunted my dreams for four years. If I’d been honest with myself about why I wanted her, I would have had to admit I’d already fallen for the one girl I’d never be good enough for.”

  “‘For whom.” Maggie sniffled. “‘For whom’ I’d never be good enough.”

  When he raised his eyebrow at her, she mumbled, “It was only the creative part of creative writing I could never figure out.”

  Alejandro just stared at her for a minute, and then he burst out in a laugh. His hands went back to her hair and he leaned in again, getting right up close. “I am in love with you, Magdalena. I think I always have been.”

  Now the tears were streaming down her face. Why she couldn’t just let it go at that, she had no idea. But it wasn’t who she was. “I’m worth more than my trust fund ever was, Alejandro. And I have no intention of giving it all away.”

  He tensed a little, but he didn’t give up any ground. “I can charge that much for my mosaics,” he responded, smiling.

  He couldn’t, of course. There was no way he’d ever make the kind of money she had. But if that was his way of saying he could get past it, then, well…

  “I fired thirty-two of my closest friends without blinking an eye.” Yes, she’d told him that already, and yes, she was pretty sure he had a sense of the kind of woman she truly was. She just wanted to be clear, however.

  “But you cried for hours as soon as you were alone,” he answered.

  She felt her eyes go wide. How…?

  “My favorite dessert is crème brulee, mi amor,” he said, which seemed like a major non sequitur if you asked her. But then he added, “Underneath it’s beautifully brittle shell is all of that sweet cream.”

  “Dude,” Samson said from off to Maggie’s left. “Did you really just say you like to eat her cream in front of her brother?”

  Sending his glare Samson’s way, Alejandro snapped, “Do you mind?”

  Samson grinned as he took a sip of his beer. He tipped his chin up. “Sorry. Go on.”

  Having recovered a modicum of dignity thanks to that brief interlude—and despite the subject of their conversation, for heaven’s sake—Maggie was happy the tears had finally stopped. So she hit Alejandro with what she figured would be the biggest whammy of all.

  “I’m in love with you, too.” Nope, tears were back in full force. “I’ve planned our wedding in my head at least ten different times.” No response. “I want at least three kids and I want to have them before I’m forty so I need to start soon.”

  Nothing she said seemed to be fazing him in the least. It actually seemed like he was trying to hold back a grin.

  She took a deep breath. “You did hear what I said at my mother’s, right? T
hat I’ve decided to come back to Santa Christa to stay?” Since that didn’t seem to concern him either, she pushed it, adding, “I’m heading back to New York tomorrow afternoon, but only for a few days. No more hiding, Alejandro,” she added. “No more pretending you’re not what I want. If you aren’t okay with that, then we need to be over.”

  Finally, finally, he reacted. And, yes, Alejandro froze—then he pulled away and stood up. It was only then that Maggie realized there was dead silence in the room. Someone had even shut off the music so the people in the back could hear. But she wasn’t going to run this time. She wasn’t about to run away from this.

  “Tell me, Alejandro,” she said, even though she was blinking back tears. “Just say it so we can move on.”

  “Okay,” he answered, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand and pulled her up to standing. Puller her right up against him, his other arm wrapping around her back. “You, Magdalena. I want you.”

  He pulled her into a kiss so dizzying she didn’t realize she was actually moving until she felt Olivia shove her purse in her hands as Alejandro said, “Sorry, we have to go.”

  “I’ll bet.” Reid didn’t even bother to hide his grin as Savannah hit his shoulder and hissed at him to be quiet.

  Which he ignored. “Déjà vu all over again, Garcia,” he called out.

  Alejandro just gave a vague wave over his shoulder in response. And, without a word to the others, he headed directly for the exit, pretty much dragging her along with him. Not until they were outside in the cool night air did she manage to dig her heels in.

  “Wait,” she said, yanking him to a stop. “Where are we going?”

  Looking down at her, he stepped in close. “Home. My clock is ticking, too.” His hand went to her jaw. He bent down and touched his lips to hers. “Five kids, mi amor. Five.” Then he pulled away with a wicked grin. “Let’s go get started.”

  Epilogue

  Maggie eased out of Alejandro’s bed, slipping out the door to his balcony. The view from here was even better than from the patio, if possible, the rising sun just beginning to appear over the horizon but already picking up the brilliant color of the tiles directly below.

  “Magdalena,” she heard from behind her. She turned to see the most beautiful man she had ever met sitting back against the headboard, his skin an even deeper bronze against the rumpled white sheets. “I’m going to like looking at you in the light of day.”

  She smiled as she turned back to look out over the valley, hearing the rustle of the sheets as he got out of bed. “Just in the light of day?” she asked.

  “In the light of day when the sun paints its colors on the mountain,” he answered, coming up behind her. “In the dark of the night when the moon reaches into every corner.” His lips touched the base of her neck. “All the time and all the ways, mi reina.” His arms tightened around her as he rested his chin on her shoulder. His voice went rough as he added, “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

  She smiled as she settled back into his warmth. Pulling his arms even closer around her, she looked out over the valley to the mountains beyond, and to the sky above. Yes. The most beautiful day ever and a whole new world. She couldn’t wait.

  Thank you so much for reading CRUSH! There are two more novellas in this series coming soon! In the meantime, if you liked CRUSH, please read on for an excerpt of CALLING IT, the award-winning contemporary, small-town series from Jen Doyle.

  Excerpt from CALLING IT

  They were crucifying him on sports radio. Again. Tonight’s theme was NateGate: Is Baseball’s Hawkins Out For Good? and, considering that he was the Nate Hawkins they were talking about, he was an idiot for listening in the first place.

  “So the team’s doctors have just come out and said he’ll be fine to play in the spring, but I have to be honest, Jim. We’re supposed to believe that he’ll be good to go when pitchers and catchers report in less than a month? He’s not a twenty-two-year-old kid anymore. Bones that old don’t heal the way they used to.”

  That old? He was thirty-three, for fuck’s sake.

  “Marco, I’m not too worried about his knee…”

  Exactly. His knee was freaking fine.

  “What’s bothering me are the rumors I’m starting to hear about the Breathalyzer test results being faked.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  And now he was yelling at the radio.

  Perfect. Good thing it was practically the middle of the night and his was the only car on the highway. It would be just his luck to have someone snap a picture of him as he was yelling at his dashboard.

  “I mean, the guy’s SUV rolled, what, seven times? That doesn’t just happen. And we’re getting nothing from team management despite the fact that they’ve invested a bucketload of money in him, plus nothing from the man himself… Things are not adding up. Let’s go to the phones.”

  Listening to guys who were paid to stir up shit was bad enough. But the callers? Hell, no. He had to shut it off.

  And yet he let it go on for another fifteen minutes. It was like driving by a wreck on the highway: nearly impossible to turn your head away.

  So much for his adoring public. Christ. He was actually grateful to see the red-and-blue lights of a police car flashing behind him. He’d clearly sunk to a new low.

  With relief, he shut off the radio and pulled over.

  He was reaching for his license when a familiar voice came over the speaker. “You bringing your shitstorm to my town? Get out of the car, Hawkins.”

  Nate grinned at the familiar voice, despite the fact that the whole point of fleeing to his mom’s house was to go off the grid for a while. “Tuck,” he said, hand outstretched as they came face-to-face. “Last time I saw you…”

  The other man grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Thirteen years ago?” Tuck said. “Damn, you and Wash were on fire during that game. Don’t get me wrong, watching you behind home plate isn’t a chore. But seeing you on the court…”

  Nate worked hard at not letting his smile fade as he allowed the words to die their own quiet death. He had enough on his plate without inviting the past to edge its way in, too.

  After a moment, Tuck shrugged. “Guess basketball wasn’t the same without your boys behind you.”

  His ‘boys.’ Right. Wash, Jason, Deke and Cal, teammates who had been as close as brothers, but with whom Nate had barely spoken in over two years. New subject. “I thought you moved to Denver. I didn’t know you were back.”

  “No reason you would.” Tuck’s eyes dropped, a standard reaction these days. “You’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  That got a genuine—if harsh—laugh out of Nate. He leaned back against his car and crossed his arms in front of him. “Can’t imagine where you heard that.”

  Which was a joke, of course, the radio show being case in point. The car accident itself had been bad enough, but when you were the all-star catcher for one of Chicago’s baseball teams and had just recently signed with the city’s new expansion team in a record-breaking deal that bought you headlines nationwide.

  Tuck leaned against the car, as well. “Shit, Hawk. You okay?”

  Talk about a loaded question. The car accident in itself had sucked. His career being potentially over sucked shit. But to have his name still being dragged through the mud after it was all said and should have been done? He’d been in self-imposed exile for six fucking weeks and was still afraid he might just lose his shit and hurt someone.

  But he’d been in the public eye long enough to know that even one grumble made you come off like a spoiled, out-of-touch asshole. “I’ve had better months.” He forced a shrug and tried not to sound bitter. “So is this about the drinking and driving thing? You want me to walk the line? Recite the alphabet?”

  He’d even taken a Breathalyzer test, although that was the biggest laugh of all. One of the few things he remembered about the accident was that he’d been stone-cold sober. The results that proved it had
been released weeks ago—and yet as they’d said on the radio, there was a vocal camp stirring up rumors that he’d faked it. Because the story about his (now) ex-fiancée sleeping with his (now) ex–best friend wasn’t juicy enough.

  Tuck smiled. “No tests.” He nodded at the car. The limited edition Porsche Nate’s ex had given him. “This guy I used to coach apparently got himself one of these. Had to see it up close.”

  That one earned a genuine smile—it felt like ages since someone had just been nice. “It was an engagement present.” One he had no love for. Which was fine because, as it turned out, Nate apparently had to give it back. Pete, his attorney, had texted that little bit of info an hour ago.

  For a minute, Tuck just looked at him. Then, having obviously gathered Nate wasn’t in a mood to chat, he gave a slow nod before saying, “Heading out to your mom’s?”

  “It was a last-minute thing,” Nate said. “I thought I’d surprise her.”

  This time Tuck was the one crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Well, then, you might want to make other plans.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with my mom’s place?”

  Tuck shrugged. “This didn’t come from me, but I heard she had company tonight. I figure that’s not something you want to find out the hard way.”

  “Company?” Nate repeated, belatedly realizing what Tuck meant. “My mom? Who?” That was…disturbing.

  “Not my business.” Tuck straightened up and smiled, signaling an end to the discussion. “The boys’ basketball team is having a run that would make The Dream proud. You should stop by. They’d be over the moon.”

  Normally Nate wouldn’t hesitate—though he’d made his living playing baseball for the past twelve years, basketball was where it had all begun. But a packed-to-the-gills gymnasium wasn’t at the top of his Places I Want To Be list. He gave as noncommittal an answer as possible, said goodbye and then got back into his car, waving as Tuck drove off.