Finish What You Started

by Alexandra Evans

  “Did you tell anyone? Ask them to pay you back?”

  “No. That would have been rude. But the next season, we had a lot fewer tickets available when they asked. We had to. We just couldn’t give up that much money anymore. We were trying to save for a house, although God knows why.”

  “So, Tyler bought these seats for us…”

  “I have a feeling he paid for a seat for you, and I was just an extra.” Her mom nudged her. “I think he likes you.”

  Harper rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I barely know the guy. This was just for helping him improve his writing skills. But I shouldn’t have taken them. This is so not cool. What if his grade goes up and someone thinks I was bribed by tickets to a game?”

  “Then you tell them your dad was a player, and this was a courtesy to me,” Elizabeth said, her mouth firmed into a thin line. “It’s not a big deal, Harper. The tickets were for me, and you just came along.”

  She knew her mother was right. She’d never let something like this sway her into upping someone’s grade. But Ty might not know that. She had to make that clear to him after the game. Grades couldn’t be bought. At least not from her.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t even know who my dad was,” she murmured. She certainly hadn’t mentioned it to him in the couple of times they’d met, as if there were even a reason to. Her father had been dead for a decade now and for all intents and purposes, gone from her life a decade before that.

  Her mom patted her on the shoulder. “Just try to enjoy the game, please? You used to love coming to the park.”

  Harper settled back into her seat and took a bite of her dog. Yeah, the operative words were “used to.” It’d been years since she’d watched a game.

  “I will,” she promised. She would do her best. For her mom.

  Ty had had a decent game. Throwing to second for a double play in the third, a line drive double in the sixth that brought in two runs… He felt good. He felt like maybe Harper Manning was his good luck charm. His knee didn’t even hurt. Much.

  The pitcher, Chuck Warner, smacked him on the shoulder with his glove as they left the field. “Great game tonight. You saved my butt with that throw to second.”

  “My pleasure.” As the guys filtered off the field, Ty stood at the warning track, searching for Harper in the stands. He’d gotten them the best two tickets still available, just to the third-base side of home plate. But everyone was leaving all at once, making it hard to see if she was still there or had already left.

  Then the area cleared out, and there she stood, her mom at her side. They waved, and Ty motioned them down toward the field.

  “Hey,” he shouted. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for the tickets,” Harper’s mom replied. “Great seats.”

  “Yes, thanks.” Harper’s voice was so soft, he could barely hear it over the background noise, but her smile was sweet, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He wondered why. Was it because she really hadn’t wanted to come but had felt boxed into it by him and her mom? Did she hate baseball? Or was it just him?

  He jumped, grabbed one of the rails and pulled himself up, then pommeled over onto the concrete walkway. He’d pay for that tomorrow. He could feel it in the ligaments surrounding his knee joint already.

  Harper took a step back when he landed beside her, as if startled. Then he flashed her his patented grin, the one all the fans loved when they took their selfies with him. “Oh, sorry. Just the fastest way up. You know?”

  She laughed nervously. “I guess so.”

  “So what are your plans now? Are you two up for an early dinner? My treat.”

  “I have to be going,” Elizabeth, if he remembered correctly, replied. “But Harper doesn’t have any plans at all this afternoon, do you, dear?”

  “I…” Harper glared at her mother, and Ty had to stifle a laugh at Elizabeth’s raised eyebrow and quirky grin. Harper narrowed her eyes and supplied a grin of her own. “I didn’t drive, Mom. You did.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Tyler would give you a ride home.” Her mom turned to him. “Wouldn’t you?”

  He took the bait, more than willing to spend more time with the bristly Harper, get to know her better. He already liked her mom. “Of course.”

  “I don’t think I should do that.” Harper held her hands up. “You’re a student, and… Don’t you get fed by the team after games?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not as fun as going out with a pretty woman to grab a meal,” he teased, wondering briefly how she knew a little detail a lot of people didn’t, let alone a non-fan like her. When her cheeks reddened, Ty added, “You’d be doing me a favor keeping me away from those guys. They’re always up to no good.”

  “Why not?” her mother said. “Tomorrow is Sunday. The last day of the weekend, and you’re only young once. Live a little. Right, Tyler?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He felt a little guilty for Harper being put on the spot like that, but he didn’t want to rescue her. He wanted to win her over, and that couldn’t happen with her mom there, and it wasn’t like he saw her every day in class. His course was online. If he hadn’t had the two meetings with her in the past week, he’d never have even known what she looked like.

  He gave her mom a conspiratorial wink. “I’d be happy to give you a ride home. I know this little hole-in-the-wall Thai place downtown. Or we could do barbecue. Do you like barbecue?”

  “Does she like barbecue? Does a pig—”

  “Mother!” Harper lifted her shoulders in defeat. “Okay, I’ll go. Just this once.”

  Ty gave an internal Yes! holding himself in check from an actual fist pump. He gave Elizabeth a nod of acknowledgment, since she’d engineered the whole thing for him. Practically pushed them together. She’d done a good job of it, as if she had loads of practice. “Okay, just let me do some stretches and grab a quick shower. Fifteen minutes? I’ll meet you at Gate Four.”

  Harper nodded, and she and her mom turned to leave. “Thanks!” he shouted, then headed for the locker room. Ty laughed to himself as he imagined the conversation going on between the two women, Harper hopping mad and her mother grinning the whole time. That was what made her challenging, and he loved a good challenge. Because women who were prickly like Harper were also usually deeply passionate underneath, and that was what he wanted to bring to the surface. He could get past the prickly to discover her desires.

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in his Jeep Grand Cherokee to find Harper and her mom both waiting outside the gate. Elizabeth walked off with a wave and got into a small sedan parked nearby. Ty parked and went around to open the passenger door for Teach. When she was tucked safely inside, he hurried and got in the driver’s seat, pulling out onto the street and heading out of the parking lot onto Central Avenue.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be there,” he said. “Your mom kind of put you in a tough position.”

  “It’s rude to back out on something when you’ve already said you’d do it,” she replied. Okay, he’d remember that. Never back out when he promised to do something with her. He wondered who’d backed out on a commitment to her before, but opted to leave that question for another time.

  “I thought we could go to Central BBQ downtown, and then maybe go on over to Beale Street to listen to some music? If you’re game, I have a friend whose band plays at Rum Boogie on Saturdays. They’re pretty good.”

  He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he knew she was still hung up on the professor/student thing, and he didn’t want to push it. But it was hard not to when she sat there, smelling again like oranges and bergamot, or at least that was what he thought the spice was when he’d googled Bath and Body Works. Ty held out hope he might find out exactly what scent it was sometime in the future. For now, he was content having her sitting in the car beside him, agreeing to share a meal and some music.

  He pulled into the public parking lot on Huling and they talked as they made their way the block and a half to the restaurant on Butler. Much to
his surprise, Harper reached out and tucked her hand in his. Maybe it was the foot traffic and she was a little uncomfortable with the hustle and bustle. Whatever the reason, he squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she looked up at him, a smile playing at her lips. His heart skipped. She looked so sweet, and so different from the pent-up professor he’d met only a week or so ago. He wanted to make her genuinely smile, to coax the fun out of a woman who was so serious, so strict with her students, and, he was sure, with herself as well. He’d bet she was even more beautiful when she laughed. He would make that his personal challenge on this non-date.

  “So… I saw this book in your office. All about vampires and burials,” he started as they crossed the intersection. Remembering his niece’s fascination with some vampire romance book, he asked, “Are you team Edward or team Jacob?”

  “No sparkly vampires, please.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, a smirk playing at her lips. “I’m more of a Christopher Lee kind of girl.”

  “Christopher Lee?”

  “Only the scariest Dracula ever. Much more frightening than Edward.” When they stepped up on the curb, she asked, “Didn’t you watch scary movies as a kid?”

  “Some,” he replied. “But usually I like the books better. I’m woefully ignorant about sparkly vampires and Christopher Lee.”

  “You knew about Edward and Jacob,” she said. There. That was the grin he was hoping for, but not quite as much as he wanted. “I’ll bet you’re a closet Twilight fan.”

  “Aw, hey, was that Teach cracking a joke at my expense?”

  “Could be.” Then he heard it. The laugh he was waiting for, and he high-fived himself inside as he watched her, lips spread wide, crinkles at the corners of her eyes, just as he’d imagined. She bumped him with her shoulder as they approached the restaurant’s door.

  “You should do that more often,” he told her. “You have an awesome laugh. You even snorted a little.”

  “I did not.”

  “Oh, you snorted, all right, Professor Smarty-pants.” He pointed at her, and she slapped at his fingers. “I’m never going to let you forget it.”

  He held the door for her, and as she passed him to go inside he said, “It’s a gorgeous sound, that laugh. Just like its owner.”

  Harper felt herself go all melty inside at the compliment. He liked the way she laughed. It was stupid, but there you go. It’d been a long time since someone had told her they liked something about her, and she soaked it in to keep for lonely times.

  As they walked into the restaurant, she noted the dark wood tables and chairs, and a long row of stools at the counter. Industrial-looking pipes hung from the ceiling, all painted black. The counter was surrounded by sheets of corrugated aluminum, topped with laminated plywood. Memorabilia covered the walls, everything from metal beer advertisements to pictures of Elvis.

  They stepped up to the counter. “Know what you want?” he asked.

  “I think I’d like the regular pulled pork sandwich, chopped, and can I get fries instead of slaw? Oh, and a slice of peanut butter pie, and could you bring that out with the meal?” She turned to Ty. “I’ll pay, since you gave us such great seats for the game.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied. He already had his wallet out and a credit card in his hand, which he handed to the woman taking their order. “I’ve got this.”

  He ordered a pulled pork plate with mac and cheese and cole slaw, and an appetizer platter of sausage and cheese. Where he’d put all that food, she had no clue. It wasn’t like baseball was a hugely active sport, as far as she knew. But his flat stomach and sculpted abs, which she could make out even through the fitted T-shirt he wore, as well as his butt and muscular thighs, told her he did a lot more than just play a game in order to keep in shape. Maybe all the players did. Ty probably used all the calories he consumed in his workouts. She wouldn’t mind running her hands down those abs. Six-pack be damned. She’d be willing to bet he had more than that under his shirt.

  Yep, he was attractive for sure. He’d been generous by giving her mother tickets to the game, and even now as he’d insisted on paying for their dinner. That was only money, and he had plenty of that. What was the real Tyler Johansen like on the inside? She already knew he was quick to give a compliment. Was that a practiced move to get women into his bed, or was he being genuine when he said those things about liking her smile?

  Harper shook those thoughts about Ty from her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about something that couldn’t happen now, and might never happen. Instead, she needed to make one thing perfectly clear, to herself as well as him. “This can’t be a date. You know that, right? My mother is just a busybody who can’t help herself trying to find someone for me. I—”

  “Okay,” he said, saving her from further explanation. Then a half smile appeared. “For now we’ll just have dinner and skip the music and dancing.”

  She started to correct him and tell him not later either, because she had no desire to hook up with a ballplayer, but for some reason, she didn’t. She loved dancing and blues. After he was no longer her student, anything was possible, and she couldn’t deny her physical attraction to him, even if she’d known him for only a few days. It wasn’t like she was going to marry the guy. But until the semester was over, she had to maintain a strict student/instructor policy.

  She felt Ty’s warm palm at the small of her back as he led her to a four-square in a less crowded area of the restaurant. Harper now realized this keeping her distance was going to be harder than she’d thought. She enjoyed his touch. Maybe a little too much. They sat, and Harper was relieved this area of the restaurant was darker. They were less likely to be seen together by someone she knew. Some of her coworkers frequented Central, but mostly the midtown location. It wouldn’t do to be seen as on a date with— This isn’t a date! But his hand against her body through the thin cotton of her Blues T-shirt had sent tingles to all the right places. She shouldn’t have those tingly feelings at all, she reminded herself. If she were honest, though, she enjoyed the contact.

  I will not fall for a ballplayer. But she was doing it. Completely against her will. He was smashing down the barriers she’d carefully built. In record time.

  Ty pulled a chair out for her and made sure she was comfortable before he took his own seat. Sean did that sort of thing for her mother all the time, but Harper had never had anyone she dated make those kinds of gestures for her. Here was a guy she’d expected to be full of himself, who she’d figured would demand special favors when it came to his grades and assignments. He’d been anything but the self-absorbed jock she’d expected. First the car door, and the compliments he seemed to really mean, helping her into her chair, and his insistence on picking up dinner even though she’d made it clear there could be no date. When was the last time a man she’d actually dated been this attentive? Certainly not Kyle. Her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t recognize the word chivalrous if he had a dictionary turned to the C’s.

  God, she wanted it to be a date.

  “So,” he said, taking a sip of his iced tea. “When did you first decide you wanted to be an English professor?”

  Small talk. A subject about her, not all about himself. Ty Johansen kept ticking the nice-to-haves off her relationship checklist.

  “I suppose when I decided writing the great American novel wasn’t going to pay my electricity bill,” she replied. “That, and the thirteen rejection letters I had on a nail in my bedroom wall for the first book I wrote.”

  His look of surprise made her smile. “Stephen King fan?”

  So he knew about Stephen King’s nail on the wall? “Always. Are you a fan?”

  “Only since I was about eleven and saw Pet Sematary for the first time.” The sausage platter arrived, and he scooped a few slices onto an appetizer plate and sprinkled them with seasoning. “I figured you for a classics reader.”

  She ignored his assumption. He wasn’t far off. She did love the classics, but she had a penchant for horror, and preferred to write it
as well. “Your parents allowed you to see Pet Sematary at eleven?”

  “Hardly. I was staying at a friend’s house, and they had cable movie channels,” he confessed. “It was some Friday Fright Night or something, and we snuck downstairs and watched it. I can say it kept me from owning a pet for a very long time.”

  The more she learned about Tyler Johansen, the more she felt like she’d done him a huge disservice before when she’d painted him with the assumptions she’d always had about sports professionals. She’d judged him to be the same type of man as her father.

  She popped a slice of the sausage into her mouth, moaning as she bit into the spicy, greasy goodness. She asked, “Do you have a pet now?”

  “No,” he replied, a shadow crossing briefly over his features. “I just had to put my dog down a few months ago. Bloodhound named Beauregard. I haven’t had the heart to replace him yet, not that I ever could. You?”

  “No.” She tore a paper towel from the roll in the center of the table and placed it in her lap. “We had a cat when I was a kid, but when we moved to Memphis, he ran away. The people who bought our house said they’d keep an eye out for him, but he never showed up.”

  “Probably had a great life as a tomcat.” He smiled sympathetically.

  “I’m sure he probably did.” Their food was delivered to their table. Harper dipped a fry in a pool of ketchup before biting half off. “So, why do you want to finish your degree, Ty?”

  He stopped for a moment, considering her question before forking a mound of mac and cheese. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before, believe it or not. The guys just rag on me when I tell them I can’t go trolling for cleat chasers.”

  “Cleat chasers?”

  He chewed for a moment, then said, “You know, the women who dress up for the game, full face of makeup, waiting to get the attention of the guys after the game.” He shook his head. “That’s not my idea of a fun time, really. I love history, and when I was drafted and dropped out of college, my mom made me promise to eventually go back and finish up my degree so I’d have something to fall back on. I swore I would. I have two more classes to go.”