by Blobel, Iris
Oliver looked over his shoulder and saw her nodding. “Cupcake, I eat anything as long as there’s meat and three vegies on the plate.”
The sound of her laughter was so unexpected, and for all her composed stances, it sounded sweet and sexy.
But she seemed surprised at her own laughter, as if she didn’t do it often.
He looked at her and took in as much of her as possible. The faint shadows beneath her eyes were in stark contrast to the little bit of colour on her cheeks. Everything told him she hadn’t had much sleep the previous night, either.
“Rough night?” he asked.
She looked up at him, but her gaze went right through him. Shrugging, she replied, “I’m okay.”
He got the hint not to take this any further. It seemed he hit a sore spot.
“So what changed your mind?” he asked.
Tamara came closer, took the two cups, and placed them on the table. “Changed my mind about what?”
“Helping.”
She shrugged, which made him laugh. He couldn’t figure her out. Tamara was hot and cold at the same time. She’d kissed him yesterday, and he knew she’d enjoyed it. So, why was she so reserved?
“What?” she asked.
He sat down and leaned his crutches against the table. Slowly, he took a sip of his coffee before he answered. “You’re real good at the denial thing.”
“I’m not—”
That got a chuckle out of him.
She let out a long, noticeable sigh. “I remembered how much my friends helped me out when Jason…when he—”
Tamara didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. Oliver knew what she was trying to say.
“So you took pity on me.”
She stood so abruptly that the chair toppled backward onto the floor. “You’re just the most annoying creature I’ve ever met.” She picked up the chair. “No, I didn’t pity you. I was thinking of helping you. But—”
Oliver cringed. Walking on thin ice was easier than holding a conversation with Tamara. Shoving his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. He stood as well and watched her as she struggled with the small chair.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“I couldn’t care less about all your sorries. This must be the tenth or eleventh time you’ve said that.”
Placing his hand on her arm, he said “Tamara, I am honestly sorry, and I do appreciate your help. But in all fairness, it’s still a bit puzzling.”
When she met his gaze, his whole body stilled, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples.
“I told you,” she said softly. “I want to help.”
Gently he pulled her in closer, not being able to take his eyes off her. “I’m having the shittiest week of my life. I was told to leave my hands off you. My head’s telling me to listen to my coach, but my heart’s really grateful for your help. Halfway, they clash and the result is crap coming out of my mouth.”
Hearing her laugh relaxed him a bit. She had the most beautiful laugh. Then, without thinking, he leaned in and touched her lips with his in a short, sweet kiss. He didn’t know he was still capable of such a kiss, filled with gentleness and not lust. Restraining the surge of need that rushed through him, he backed away and met her gaze.
***
Tamara had the best intentions to protest, right up until his mouth touched hers. The second she felt his warm lips on hers, her heart began to beat faster in her chest and wanting exploded inside her. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she melted against him.
Oliver slowly broke off the kiss, leaving their lips still touching before he finally pulled away.
She stepped away from him, because she couldn’t think when he was that close. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Think of it as the entrée for the meal.”
Tamara met his gaze again. “That’s what you think I am? The entrée of a meal?”
He let out a deep sigh. “There’s no winning with you. Everything I say you just twist and turn.”
She knew he was right and wanted to apologise. “It’s hard to move on and sometimes…” She hesitated. “Sometimes, it’s easier to offend people so they leave me alone.”
Nodding, he pulled her in again.
“But as much as I try to offend you, you’re like a boomerang. You just keep coming back.” A smile tugged at her lips. “And I somehow have the impression you like women. As in lots of them. It’s kinda…scary.”
His husky laugh sent shivers down her spine.
Trying to ignore her body’s reaction to him, she continued. “And when you mentioned your heart, it sounded like you’re mocking me.”
His laugh stilled, and for a few moments there was a silence between them. “I’d never hurt you,” he whispered “I know what it’s like to lose someone, especially to lose someone close. I haven’t always been the Casanova everyone thinks I am.”
“So you are a womaniser?”
Oliver chuckled. “I’m not. I do admit, however, I like the company of a nice woman.”
The honesty of his words surprised her. Tamara considered his words when she suddenly realised what he’d said. Reading between the lines, did he lose someone dear as well?
She opened her mouth to ask when she felt his lips touching hers again.
“You’d better get the meat and vegies. I’ll even help you cook,” he whispered against her lips.
Hardly able to breathe or think rationally while being so close to him, she let him place his arm around her waist, his thumb gently stroking her back.
All she was able to come up with was, “Do you have any pots and pans?”
Cocking a questioning eyebrow at her, he replied, “I do eat. And I happen to be a good cook.”
Amused, she looked around, and for the first time she noticed that the kitchen was indeed equipped with the latest appliances. She was impressed.
“So meat and vegies aren’t really on your daily menu, right?”
“Hey,” he said as he placed a finger under her chin to turn her face towards him. “The best meals are the ones you don’t have to cook yourself.” A grin spread across his face that made her unsure whether he was teasing her or not. Again. But she let it go. Instead, she went over to the big bookshelf in the corner. It looked completely out of place in the mainly white and cream coloured kitchen. The bright light reflected on the polished surface of the massive mahogany wood shelf, and Tamara walked over to inspect what kind of books he kept there.
“It’s a bit unusual to have a bookshelf in the kitchen,” she said as she ran her finger along the books. There were quite a nice number of cookbooks, obviously heaps of books on sport, training, fitness, and special diet. Back in the corner were a few travel guides.
“Do you like travelling?”
“I used to travel a lot.”
“Why not anymore?” She was about to ask whether it was because of his commitments to baseball, but she noticed the expression on his face changed. It was no longer teasing or warm, but distant. It somehow bugged her that she’d opened up to him, but he hid everything. Something inside told her he had a story to tell as well, but knew it was unfair to judge him. Her first judgment had obviously been wrong. Or at least somewhat.
Tamara turned back to the shelf and discovered some mystery and crime books.
“Do you read a lot?” she asked to ease the tension.
“Whenever I can. I’ll have to get more books now that I’m stuck.”
“If you keep your hands off me and promise not to kiss me, I’ll help you out over the next few weeks.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I haven’t got anything else to do, so I’m happy to help. And—” Stepping closer, she poked her finger on his chest. “I’m doing that because I’ve been there and appreciated the help I got.”
“Don’t you like me kissing you?” he asked with a big grin.
Letting out a big sigh, she replied, “I like it a bit too much.”
Oliver moved her hand and g
rabbed his crutches. As he made his way towards the door, she stared at his lean body, inviting her to touch. She closed her eyes, then took a deep breath before opening them again to follow him.
“Where are you going?” she shouted after him.
But he didn’t answer, so she followed the ‘clunk clunk’ noise of the crutches on the floor.
“Oliver?”
Tamara nearly crashed into him when he suddenly came out of one of the rooms. A quick glance told her it must’ve been his bedroom. It wasn’t at all what she expected, except for the mess. The room was furnished in white and cream colours as well, except the carpet, which was a deep blue. She liked the colour combination. There were white shutters covering the windows, and a ceiling fan hummed quietly instead of a noisy air conditioner.
Tamara imagined waking up every morning in such a beautiful room.
Holding a set of keys in front of her, Oliver brought her back from her thoughts. “You want to help? How about lunch down in St. Kilda? These walls are driving me insane.”
Suddenly she noticed he’d put on a pale blue shirt and his sandals.
Tamara took the car keys and placed them on the little chest of drawers in the hall. She didn’t want to have lunch with him. She’d been prepared to help him out over the next few days, but lunch? Spending time with him and having a conversation?
These walls are driving me insane.
His words ran through her head. Looking around, she remembered the day her mother had taken her out to the beach after weeks inside her room, too scared to face the world.
“If you don’t mind, I prefer my own car.”
Oliver nodded with a smile on his lips. “Who am I to argue?”
Choking back a laugh, she replied, “You always argue.”
He raised one of his brows slightly, but didn’t say anything.
With a small sigh, Tamara grabbed her bag and retrieved her keys. “Let’s get lunch.”
“Goodo. I’m starving.”
It took them a few minutes to get Oliver into her small car and to store the crutches in the back. In the end, Oliver just placed them next to his seat and she felt somewhat silly. When she turned on the engine the audio came on automatically. It was the CD with the music from the musical she and Jason had seen during their honeymoon in Europe. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Oliver’s reaction and switched it off.
“You don’t like musicals?”
He shook his head. “I like good music.”
Tamara laughed. “Define good music.”
She felt his gaze as she turned into the traffic. “There’s no need to define good music. Everyone knows good music, cupcake.”
That conversation didn’t go very well, and she was dreading the rest of the lunch. “Give me the name of a group,” she tried again.
“Ever heard of AC/DC, INXS, Cold Chisel or the like?”
Of course she had! And a sense of revenge rushed through her. “AC what?”
“You’re kidding me, right? AC/DC.”
After a couple of turns, Tamara got to the main road that would get her into the city of Melbourne and straight to St. Kilda. When she had to stop at the next light, she reached over to open the glove box. It only took her a second or two to grab a CD. She quickly threw it into his lap before driving on after the change of light.
“It’s Jason’s old CD. It should still work,” she said quietly.
But Oliver didn’t change CDs. He placed it back in the glove box, but not before checking out all the other music she had to offer.
“This one will do,” he finally said as he slid in a Hits of the Summer CD.
It was an old one, but all of Tamara’s music was old.
And at that moment she noticed, that apart from the move to Melbourne, nothing had really changed. She had wanted a change, but moved east with the same clothes, same car, and even the same furniture! Tears stung behind her eyes.
She startled when she felt Oliver’s hand on her thigh. “You okay?”
Drawing in her lips, she just nodded.
“Should I change the music back?”
A smile tugged at her lips as she turned to look at him. Was there a little human being underneath this arrogant baseball player? Was he really arrogant? She remembered the day she hadn’t been able to find her keys, only for him to help her, yet not to invade her space. Or at the beach. His concern for her.
Damn it!
Tamara didn’t only like his kisses too much, now she began to like him as well.
“No, it’s fine. I just had a…a—” She sighed. “I’ve just noticed that I moved to Melbourne to move on, to change, but I’ve only brought along my old life to a new location.”
There was a long silence. She turned and met his gaze, one eyebrow raised. She quickly turned back to the road as the traffic started to move once more.
“So you think moving from one town to another will help you heal?” he asked suddenly.
“Is moving from one woman to another doing the trick?” she replied.
She must’ve hit a raw nerve, because he never denied that he did just that.
***
Suddenly, Oliver wasn’t that sure any more about having lunch with Tamara. Having her opening up to him brought up all of his memories, which he had tried to ignore so hard over the last few years. Flashes of Erin's dead body rushed through his head, as she lay in the sun-dried yellow grass, blood all over her.
He thought back to the accident, recalling that immediately after coming to a halt, he’d crawled out of the car, dazed and sore, realising the extent of the damage. Seeing Erin’s lifeless body a few meters away, he’d moved towards her and covered her with his jacket before checking on his mother. He’d knelt in front of her and taken her hand. She was unconscious.
That was when he’d grabbed his phone and called the emergency. His gaze had wandered into the distance, trying hard to figure out what had happened, but there was a blank. After he’d hung up, he sat back. The silence had been like a heavy weight pressing down on his chest until his breathing had become shallow and rapid—and then he’d thrown up everything in his stomach until there was nothing left.
Oliver closed his eyes, trying so damn hard to erase the images in his head.
He’d never considered moving anywhere to escape his hell. There were days when he’d considered moving to the US for a chance of making it big in baseball over there. Offers had been made, but in the end he wanted to stay close to his family. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Tamara was busy trying to find a parking spot. Oliver studied her features, the fine lines around her eyes and the few freckles on her face; the fact that she wasn’t hiding them with makeup made him like her even more. Her hair was tied back in a simple pony tail, but the old-fashioned earrings simply had to go.
Oliver cursed inwardly. Unlike Tamara, who was grieving a loved one, he’d never really known Erin that well. They’d been going out for a few weeks, but nothing serious. Unlike Tamara, he was dealing with the guilt of killing someone, not grieving for someone. And it was slowly killing him.
Tamara’s outburst jarred him back from his thoughts. “I’ve got no idea where people learn to drive in Victoria, but they should put a bit more effort in their parking skills.”
He chuckled and watched her as she turned off the engine with a big, heavy sigh. She met his gaze.
“What?”
Shaking his head, he said quietly, “You need to learn to relax.”
She sighed again. “Not with these crazy drivers around.”
Oliver laughed as he opened the door and grabbed his crutches.
“This is about the closest parking spot I could get to the cafés,” she apologised.
He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Will you relax? I’ll be fine. How about we get some fish and chips and sit by the beach?”
She nodded as she walked around the car. “Sounds perfect. But will you be all right in the sand with the crutches?”
Not sure whether sh
e was driving him insane or whether he liked that she was looking after him in every small detail, he leaned against the car. Reaching for her hand, he gently pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs. His arm circled her waist, and she placed her hands lightly against his chest. Warmth pooled inside him, stirring a reaction he hadn't felt in far too many years.
“We’d better get the chips,” she whispered as she slowly pulled away from him, her flushed face telling him she’d enjoyed the embrace as well.
Oliver watched her as she ordered before returning with the fish and chips a little while later. It must’ve been one of her talents. She was good at taking charge, it seemed. Following her as she searched for the perfect spot, he couldn’t help but want to know her better. He felt drawn to her. And with that thought Coach Becker’s words rushed back into his mind and he cursed.
“Too tricky to walk on the sand?” she asked.
“I’m all right, cupcake. Simply hungry.”
She smiled, and his heart did a little jump inside.
They sat at a wooden picnic table and enjoyed their lunch. As much as he tried to coax her into telling him about herself, it was mostly him doing the talking. He told her about living in the US as a child when his father had accepted a job over there and the difficulties settling back in Australia upon their return. Yet, when she asked him about the operation, he wasn’t quite as forthcoming.
All the signs told him that she’d relaxed. Listening to her talk about her family and Perth, he found himself enjoying her company. He had never met anyone quite like her. She was smart and intelligent. And pretty.
“So, Oliver. How does an Australian guy like you come to play an American sport like baseball?”
He shrugged. “Probably similar to the way Erik came to like the game.”
She laughed. “Nah. Uncle Erik was in love with Marilyn Monroe and thought if he played baseball like Joe DiMaggio, he’d get a girl like her.”
Oliver let out a low laugh of genuine amusement.