Making a Comeback

by Kristina Mathews

  Yes. Exactly.

  “Annabelle.” He said her name again. But he was very serious. “You are so much more than a pretty face.”

  Her hand went to the side of her not-so-pretty face. She winced as her fingers grazed the stitches.

  Cooper bent his head and brushed the lightest of kisses on her left temple.

  Her eyes fluttered closed when he moved his lips across her cheek. Finally his lips found hers. He was very serious now as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

  She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his. There was nothing silly about what was happening between them, nothing superficial. Oh no, things were about to get very deep.

  Annabelle reached up to pull him closer, clutching his hair in both hands. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, taking control of the kiss. She wanted this. Needed this.

  His arms circled her waist. Slipping his hands beneath her T-shirt, he caressed her lower back, careful not to bump her ribs. She arched into him, wanting to get closer. Wanting to feel him, to feel everything.

  Cooper broke the kiss. “Are you sure you want this?”

  She answered by capturing his mouth, kissing him harder, deeper than before.

  “I’m not this great guy you think I am.” He pulled away again, his breath ragged. “I’m not a hero, you know.”

  “You got my kids to eat vegetables.” She moved in to nuzzle his neck. Enough with the I’m such a bad guy stuff.

  “Annabelle.” He groaned when she flicked her tongue across the skin just behind his ear. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. If I get a job… I could end up moving across country. Or even…”

  She tried to shut him up by kissing him on the mouth. He gave in for a moment but pulled back again.

  “I’m not looking for anything long-term, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She realized they weren’t going to get anywhere until he was sure of her expectations. “Hell, my divorce isn’t even final, so…”

  “You’re a married woman.” He took two steps back, but it might as well have been two miles.

  “Only on paper.” She shook her head. “My marriage has been over for a long time, but the state of California hasn’t figured that out yet.”

  “Look, I can’t… I can’t be that guy.” He moved toward the door. “I’m sorry, Annabelle.”

  This time when he said her name, it was with such regret she wondered if she’d ever see him again.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Cooper stood at Annabelle’s front door four heartbeats away from panic. He’d knocked three times and rang the doorbell twice. No answer. He was about ready to call 9-1-1 when he heard footsteps behind him.

  “Cooper, can I help you with something?” Annabelle was coming up the walk, her face a little flushed. It could be embarrassment over what happened last night, or maybe it was from exertion.

  “I thought you might need me to drive Sophie and Olivia to school.”

  “They take the bus.” She tilted her head slightly.

  Right. He knew that.

  “Oh, okay.” He stood there waiting for her to tell him to get lost. She didn’t need him anymore. Not after last night.

  He started down the porch steps, but only got as far as the sidewalk that ran in front of both of their places.

  “Hey, about last night…” He turned back, putting one foot on the bottom step. “I’m sorry.”

  He waited, hoping she wouldn’t tell him to go to hell.

  “I’d invite you in for some tea, but I’m all out.” She gave him an apologetic smile.

  “Annabelle.” Just saying her name made his heart do this funny little stutter. It was almost like coming into a game with runners on and nobody out. He could save the day or he could end up making things worse. “Can I explain?”

  She shrugged and unlocked the front door.

  He followed, part of him wishing he didn’t give a damn. He’d had the chance to make love to Annabelle Jones. But he’d blown it. He was just trying to do the right thing and he’d ended up hurting her.

  “So…” She tossed her keys into a colorful bowl on the side table. “Explain.”

  Where did he start? He glanced at the bookcase. Scattered amongst the many paperbacks and knick-knacks were photos of the twins. Their smiling faces, so innocent and trusting, staring back at him.

  “My parents split up when I was eight.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “My mom left. She left me and my sister and my dad to run off with some guy she’d known only a few weeks.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Annabelle shifted, leaning toward him but not quite reaching for him.

  “I can’t be that guy.” He hated how much it still hurt. And pissed him off that she’d chosen some stranger over her family. Her kids. She’d chosen a guy she ended up leaving for the next guy. And then the next…

  “I didn’t leave my husband for you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I married him for my father. Stayed with him for my daughters. But leaving him? That was something I did for myself.”

  She turned her back toward him.

  Yeah. He’d just made the situation worse. Like hanging a slider right over the plate.

  “I’ll go.” He took a step toward the door.

  “No. Wait.” She placed her hand on his arm. But it wasn’t the friendly touching she’d done last night. “I really am out of tea. And I need to pick up some milk and cereal and a few other things. I could use one of those online grocery services, but I like to be able to check out the produce for myself and…”

  “I need to head to the store anyways.” He felt like he did when the long ball he’d just dished up sailed foul by just a few inches, relieved to get another chance. “You can tag along.”

  “That would be great.” She tried to fake a smile, but it seemed like too much effort. Especially with the stitches on the left side of her face.

  “When do you go back to the doctor?”

  “I’ll make an appointment for later this week to get my stitches out.”

  “Let me know what time.”

  “I can find another way…”

  “I don’t mind.” He hated the realization that he’d pushed her away. “I’d be more than happy to take you.”

  “You’re not afraid I’ll think you’re some kind of hero?” Her smile returned, the real one. The one that had just a bit of devil behind the face of an angel.

  “I think we both know I’m not.” He moved toward the door. “So when do you want to head to the store?”

  “How about now?” She gave him a challenging stare. “I’ll just grab my purse.”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you in my driveway.” He let himself out so he could grab his car keys.

  He was somewhat relieved that she still needed him. She couldn’t possibly want him, not after last night. But at least she still needed him. And there was a part of him that preferred it that way.

  Once upon a time, he’d had no problem with hooking up with a woman for short term mutual satisfaction. No strings. No promises. He was a relief pitcher—come in on short notice, get the job done, and get out as quickly as possible. It worked for baseball and it worked for women. Or it had.

  Now he’d completely lost his mojo. He couldn’t let things take their natural course with a beautiful, willing, if not quite single woman. And until yesterday he couldn’t even pick up a baseball.

  He’d tossed the ball around with Annabelle’s daughters. Not that it was in any way physically challenging. But he’d gotten past a mental block. He didn’t feel bile rise in the back of his throat at the smell of glove leather. His fingers didn’t burn when he touched the raised red stitching on the ball. And his vision didn’t blur when he brought the two together. Ball to glove. Glove to chest. Shifting his weight to make the motion that had once come as natural as breathing.

  If he could manage a game of catch, maybe he could manage to spend the next few
days with Annabelle. Just until she got back on her feet.

  Then he could focus on his game. His career. Then he could get back to his real life.

  When Annabelle didn’t appear within a few minutes, he started to worry, and walked up the back steps, ready to knock on the kitchen door. He peeked through the window and saw Annabelle on the phone. Relaxing, he went back to wait for her at his car. He leaned against the black Escalade as if he had all day.

  Hell, he did have all day. He had less than a month before teams would start reporting to spring training. Without him. He should have taken Toronto’s offer. But at the time, three million had been a slap in the face. If he hadn’t screwed up, he could have easily asked for five. If he’d been healthy and clean he would have gotten it, probably before winter meetings had started in December.

  He had plenty of time on his hands. Time in which he might have to start thinking about a second career. Music seemed the obvious choice, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to ruin it by turning it into a job. He enjoyed playing an occasional gig, but really his music was something he did to relax, to relieve the pressure of a long season in the bullpen.

  “Sorry.” Annabelle swept down the steps wearing her trademark oversized sunglasses and another form-fitting warm-up suit. This one was a pale pink, softly hugging her every curve. “My agent called and I needed to get him up to speed.”

  “No problem.” He knew what it took to keep an agent from freaking out, especially when having to report a physical setback. “How did it go?”

  She stepped back. He almost expected her to retreat into her house.

  “He wished me well and he pretended not to hear the part about my face being scarred beyond repair.”

  “You might heal just fine.” They both knew that wouldn’t be the case. She’d still be beautiful, of that he had no doubt, but hardly photo-worthy. He had a better shot of re-signing with the Goliaths than she did of getting another modeling job. “Maybe there is some kind of cream or oil you could try to eliminate the scarring.”

  “I’ll never be the same.” She brushed an imaginary strand of hair off her face. “But I guess I’ll just have to move on.”

  “Annabelle…”

  “Don’t say my name. Please. Not like that.” She stood, waiting for him to unlock the passenger door.

  “What should I call you then? Hey you? Ms. Jones?” he asked. “Or should I call you Mrs. Barry?”

  “Not that.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Anything but that.”

  “Okay…”

  “I never took his name.” She stared off over his shoulder. Or that’s where she seemed to be looking, it was hard to tell under her dark shades. “I used my career as an excuse, but I guess I always knew it wasn’t a sure thing. Our marriage.”

  It was none of his business, even if he felt less guilty knowing her marriage hadn’t been the happiest.

  He pressed the button to unlock the door and held it open while she climbed in. Then he went around the front of the SUV and got behind the wheel.

  “So can you get everything you need at Whole Foods or will we need to make more than one stop?” He stabbed the key into the ignition, not wanting to look at her. She was too beautiful. Too fragile. Too everything.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She clicked her seatbelt into place, wincing slightly as she strapped the belt over her hips.

  He checked the mirrors before pulling into the street. This was going to be one hell of a long day.

  * * * *

  That wasn’t as awkward as she’d feared it would be. Annabelle had stocked up on enough groceries to last more than a week, if the organic produce held up that long. Cooper had left her to complete her shopping on her own, but she’d noticed he never strayed too far. He kept enough distance that she didn’t feel like he was hovering, but he remained close enough that he could come to her rescue if she needed him.

  Fortunately, she was tall enough not to need his help reaching for items on the top shelf. And she even managed to keep from slipping in some spilled juice. No surprise that Cooper had immediately alerted the manager after she wheeled her cart around the mess. It gave her an extra five minutes to wander three aisles over and catch her breath. She hated being so dependent on him. But she couldn’t very well carry on with no food in the house. She had her pride, but her daughters came first. They needed fresh fruit and milk. They needed food for their lunches and afterschool snacks.

  “Do you need any help getting everything put away?” Cooper had insisted on loading her groceries in the back of his SUV and carrying all seven bags into the house.

  “No. I can manage.” She was more than ready for a little space. Especially since he’d made it very clear they could only be friends. The only benefits would be his chauffeur service. “I need something to keep me busy anyway.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything.” He stood near the door, acting as if he didn’t quite want to leave.

  “I know where to find you.” He was too close. She wished he would leave already, so she could stop trying to be brave and strong. “Besides, I have to call the insurance company, the doctor’s office…”

  “You will let me know what time your appointment is.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

  “Don’t you have things to do besides be at my beck and call?” She was starting to get irritated.

  “Nothing that can’t wait.”

  “I thought you were looking for a job.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping he didn’t notice her wince when she bumped her ribs. “Or are you trying to play me?”

  “I’m not trying to play you, Annabelle.” A look of regret passed over his face. “I would never use you like that.”

  He wouldn’t use her any other way, either.

  “Well, good.” She relaxed her stance, letting her arms fall to her sides. “Because if you’re hoping to get a piece of my fortune, you can forget it.”

  “I don’t want your money.” He moved closer, his voice lowering. “I could never take money I didn’t earn.”

  There was something about the way he spoke that made her wonder if he was talking more to himself. She knew he’d made a lot of money in his former career, but got the feeling he wasn’t proud of his wealth. Maybe he’d worked for a corporation that was involved in something he was morally opposed to. Exploiting child labor, for instance, or taking a homophobic stance on same-sex marriage.

  Or maybe he’d inherited his money, perhaps from the mother who’d abandoned him at eight years old.

  “Well, thanks again for the ride.” Annabelle knew she was in no position to press him for more information. Whatever it was, he was convinced it made him a bad guy, even though his actions had shown just the opposite.

  “What are neighbors for?” He gave her a half-smile and took a step back.

  Neighbors. She’d just have to get used to the idea that’s all they’d be.

  She sighed as she watched him head back to his place. He sure did fill out a pair of jeans. And the way he tortured that T-shirt, stretching it to the max. But she’d learned a long time ago that having a beautiful body didn’t guarantee happiness.

  Chapter 9

  “Coop! It’s about time you dragged your sorry ass down here.” Bruce Sanders met him at the door of Sanders Baseball Academy. He pulled Cooper into a hearty embrace and slapped him on the back a couple times for good measure. “I was starting to wonder if you were just blowing me off. Like my facilities aren’t good enough for you.”

  “I’ve been working out at home, mostly.” Guilt at avoiding his friend and former teammate gnawed at him.

  “Keeping a low profile, huh?” His buddy gave him a friendly shove on his good shoulder. “Don’t have to worry about being interrupted by fans or groupies?”

  “I haven’t had to worry about either in a long time.” The two of them had been in the minors together. They’d been battery mates. Sanders had been one he
ll of a catcher and mentor. “The Colonel” was a mastermind behind the plate. He studied hitters and was always ready with a battle plan. Cooper didn’t think he would have developed as a pitcher without Sanders’ help.

  “Well, let’s get you back on track.” His friend welcomed him with another hearty back slap. “Get you back on the mound where you belong.”

  “I just want to throw a little today.” Cooper waited for his stomach to clench at the thought. But he felt fine. Almost normal. “Work my way up to getting back on the hill.”

  “You haven’t been throwing, yet?” Sanders gave him a skeptical look. They both knew he was behind schedule if he wanted to show up to spring training in any kind of playing shape. If he could manage to get a contract.

  “Been focusing on building my strength.” Or avoiding the possibility that he’d never be the same pitcher. “The doctor is very pleased with the repair. Says I should have no trouble returning to full strength by the time the season starts. But the worst thing I could do would be to rush my recovery.”

  Sanders gave him a stare. He could smell bullshit a mile away.

  “What’s really going on, man?”

  “I’ll tell you everything”—Cooper rolled his shoulders, anxious to get started— “after I make my throws.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Brandon to suit up. My nephew’s playing college ball, now. He’s one hell of a catcher.” Sanders had adopted the boy when his sister was killed in a boating accident.

  “You could probably handle me,” Cooper joked. A collision at the plate had ended The Colonel’s career shortly after being called up to AAA ball. He’d been so close to his dream. Cooper sometimes wondered how he managed to live with himself. “I’m not throwing hard. Yet.”

  “Still, I’ll let the kid warm you up.” Sanders led the way through the facility to the back, where there was plenty of space to warm up. “He’s better than I ever was. And he’s got a couple of weeks before he goes back to college. He’s a sophomore, so he thinks he knows everything. He needs to spend a little time with someone who’s been there.”

  “You don’t want me as a role model for the kid.” He was no hero. Not by a long shot.