Out of My League: Complete Box Set

by Sharon Cummin

  “Not funny,” I said.

  “Not sure funny was what I was going for, princess,” he replied.

  I heard more noises coming through the phone as he spoke.

  “Are you sure you're not busy?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I just walked in, so I'm changing into something more comfortable. I'm not a suit and tie kind of guy. I only wear them when I'm forced to.”

  “Wow!” I said with a laugh of my own. “I can't believe anyone could force you to do anything.”

  “There are a few people,” he said in a serious tone. “Sometimes I'd like to tell them all to fuck off.”

  “Why don't you?” I asked.

  “How do you say it again?” he asked, right before answering his own question. “It's complicated.”

  “Very funny,” I said.

  “So,” he said, “What was it that had you tearing up yesterday?”

  “You don't waste time, do you?” I asked.

  “I'm a very busy man,” he said. “I have no time to waste.”

  “Oh really?” I asked sarcastically. “What is it that keeps Pete Parker busy besides playing baseball with kids?”

  “I asked you a question first,” he said.

  “That one is too complicated. Ask me an easier one first,” I said with a laugh.

  “That was the easier one,” he said sternly.

  “Oh,” I said.

  For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

  “Well,” he said. “Out with it.”

  “It was nothing,” I said. “I was just having a rough day.”

  “A rough day?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I repeated. “A rough day.”

  “What about the other days?” he asked.

  “What about them?” I questioned.

  “Were they just rough days too?” he asked.

  “It's,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “Don't give me that shit,” he snapped. “You need to talk, Cassie. You can't keep that shit inside. Believe me, I know.”

  “How would you know?” I asked.

  “I asked you first,” his voice was coming out much rougher than before.

  “No,” I said.

  “What do you mean no?” he snapped out.

  “I can't talk about it right now,” I said.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I'm at James' house,” I answered.

  “You can't talk because you don't want to or because of where you are?” he asked.

  “Where I am,” I said.

  “I'm assuming they don't know then,” he said.

  “Not entirely, or not even close actually,” I said.

  I heard a light clicking noise I'd never heard before. Then it hit me. The fucker was typing something on his phone while he was talking to me. It didn't sound the same as it had on my old phone, but that was definitely what was going on.

  “I'll talk to you later,” I said. “You sound busy.”

  “Would you hold on a second,” he said. “Why are you so bossy?”

  “I'm not bossy,” I snapped.

  “You definitely are,” he said, as I heard another sound. “Check your text.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It's not like you haven't used a phone before. The damn thing was glued to you that one day,” he said. “Check your text.”

  “This one is new and totally different,” I said, defending myself.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “My address,” he said. “I'm only five minutes from James and Sammie's house. Come over.”

  “What?” I asked quickly. “No.”

  “What do you mean no?” he huffed out.

  “Exactly what you think I mean,” I said. “I can't just come over there.”

  “Why the fuck not?” he snapped.

  “What am I going to tell Sammie? I'll be back later. I'm going to Parker's?” I asked. “That is not happening. What would she think of me?”

  “What does that mean?” he asked. “What's wrong with me?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “That's not it at all.”

  “Glad to hear there's nothing wrong with me,” he said with a snicker.

  “Screw you,” I snapped.

  “Really?” he asked, mocking shock. “Cassie. That's a bit forward.”

  “Shut up,” I growled out.

  “Come over,” he said, “and not for that. I don't just drop my pants for anyone. I want to talk. You say you can't do it there, so you'll do it here.”

  “I don't know about that, Parker,” I said.

  “You don't have to stay long,” he said.

  “You don't care,” I said. “Why would you?”

  “Listen, Cassie,” he said. “There's something going on with you, and I'm thinking it has to do with your husband. I've been through some shit myself, so I get it.”

  “It's not that bad,” I said, and I instantly regretted lying to him. “Maybe it is. Ugh! I don't know.”

  “Come over,” he said.

  “Parker,” I said. “It's bound to turn into.”

  “Cassie,” he sternly cut me off. “I'm hanging up now. You've got fifteen minutes to get here.”

  “If I don't?” I asked.

  “Don't show up and find out.”

  “Come on, you know damn well you aren't going to show up here. There is no way,” I said.

  “I'm setting my timer, princess,” he said, and I knew he had a smile on his face, I could hear it.

  “I need longer,” I said.

  “Wow! What a confession,” he said.

  “Oh my, Parker,” I said. “That is not what I meant. I need more time. I have to get ready.”

  “No, you don't,” he said with a laugh. “You can't look any worse than you did yesterday. Hurry your ass up and get over here. I stopped for food, and there's enough for both of us.”

  I was so shocked by his words that I couldn't even speak. After a moment, he broke the silence.

  “Cassie,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  “Oh, I heard you,” I said, still shocked by what had just come out of his mouth.

  “So hurry up,” he said. “The clock starts now. Bye.”

  Before I could even get a word out, he was gone. I looked down at my phone and pulled up a text.

  Me: Can you promise me that everything I say to you will stay between us? That means nothing to James, Sammie, Lance, Lucy, Lancie, Lauren, or anyone else.

  A few seconds later, I heard the ding, looked down, and couldn't help but laugh.

  Wannabe: I do, as long as you promise never to repeat anything I say either.

  Me: I promise.

  Wannabe: Now that that's out of the way, you better hurry. Time is ticking, princess.

  I grabbed my purse, threw my phone into it, grabbed my keys, and then stopped to look in the mirror. My hair was on top of my head in a pile, and pieces were sticking out of the pile everywhere. I thought about fixing it. Then I let out a laugh and walked down the stairs.

  It was early, but the kids were all in bed, and Sammie had fallen asleep on the couch. I was pretty sure James had gone over to Lance's house. Quietly, I walked to the front door, opened it, and closed it behind me. That was much easier than I thought it was going to be, I thought, as I walked down the porch steps.

  When I pulled up outside of Parker's apartment building, I wasn't surprised at all. It looked average, and that seemed how he did things, except that far from average suit he'd been wearing the day before. I checked the apartment number before walking toward the door, taking a deep breath, and lifting my hand to knock.

  It wasn't long before the door in front of me opened, and I lost my ability to speak. Standing in front of me was a naked, muscular chest with tiny beads of water clinging to it. My eyes moved down from the chest to the just as fit abs. Then they follow
ed the line of hair and v that lead beneath a pair of sweats that were just barely hanging on. When my eyes moved back up, they connected with his for just a second before moving up to see his freshly combed, damp hair. When he cleared his throat, they moved back down to his.

  “You going to stand there all day while those pretty eyes fuck me, or are you going to come in?” he asked.

  “At least something about me is pretty,” I said, as I let out a huff and walked right by him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “ You can't look any worse than you did yesterday,” I said in a tone that mocked his earlier one.

  “It was a joke,” he said. “I think it's cute that you plop your hair on top of your head like that.”

  “Shut up,” I said, as I walked into his living room.

  My eyes scanned the room, and it took all I had not to laugh or say something totally crazy. There was Pirate stuff everywhere. It was definitely a bit much. Fan was not the correct word for what I was seeing. I had to wonder if Sammie and James knew exactly how big of a fan he was? There were balls, jerseys, and signs. There were even team pics on the walls in his hallway. I couldn't make out what years they were from, and I didn't care. I'd already seen enough of those for one lifetime.

  I could feel his eyes on my back, but he didn't say anything.

  “How were your meetings yesterday and today?” I asked.

  “How did you know I had one today?” he asked. “Are you stalking me?”

  “No,” I said. “I have better things to do with my time, but I'm not sure Lauren does.”

  “Lauren told you,” he said. “How did I come up in conversation?”

  “Are you going to tell me how they went or not?” I snapped.

  “If I didn't know better, I'd say you sounded jealous,” he said. “There's no reason to be. Lauren is married to Lance, and she is having his baby.”

  “Shut up,” I said, as I walked over and plopped down on his couch. “Do you think you could put a shirt on?”

  “I guess,” he said. “I wouldn't think it would be that tempting looking at me, but if that's what it takes for you to concentrate, then I'll get one.”

  I rolled my eyes, as he turned to walk down the hallway. My eyes went straight to his ass, and he quickly put his hands behind him to cover it.

  “And you're worried about me,” he said. “Damn, Woman.”

  “In your dreams,” I yelled after him.

  “More like yours,” he yelled out, as he walked into what I assumed was his bedroom. “What exactly was I doing in your dream anyway?”

  “Being a pain in my ass,” I yelled back.

  Within seconds, I saw his upper half lean through the doorway.

  “Do not say it,” I said. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

  “I do,” he said with a smile, as he walked into the hall while pulling a white t-shirt over his head. “You were thinking about my cock being buried.”

  “Stop,” I snapped, cutting him off, as I stood up from the couch. “I'm going to go.”

  “No,” he said. “I was just messing with you. I know you have zero interest in me, my sexy ass, or my cock.”

  “Nobody said your ass is sexy,” I said, as I sat back down.

  “You keep looking at it,” he said. “I think it speaks for itself.”

  He walked around the corner into what had to be his kitchen and came back with paper plates, forks, napkins, and a bag of food.

  “Do you really think as highly of yourself as you make it seem?” I asked.

  “All the ladies think I'm sexy,” he said. “I can't help that.”

  “I don't,” I said.

  “That's a bummer,” he said. “I wouldn't mind if you did, but since you don't, I guess we'll just talk.”

  “Are you always such an ass?” I asked, as I grabbed the plates, forks, and napkins from him.

  “There you go again,” he said. “If you don't like it, then quit talking about it.”

  “Shut up and eat,” I said.

  He pulled out a couple of containers of food and dished some out to each of us. Then he handed me one plate and sat down on the couch with the other in his hand.

  “Were you going to eat all of this yourself?” I asked. “I hadn't called you and you'd already had it.”

  When he shrugged, I set my plate down on the table in front of me.

  “I'm not eating your dinner,” I said.

  “Eat the damn food, princess,” he snapped.

  He grabbed the plate and shoved it back at me.

  “How could you have eaten all of this?” I asked.

  “I'm a growing boy,” he said with a smile.

  “Do you cook?” I asked, curious to get to know something about him.

  “Not at all,” he said. “What about you?”

  I sat and thought for a minute before answering.

  “I don't,” I said, as I looked down at my plate of food. “I guess that's one of the things I need to fix.”

  We ate quietly for a few minutes before he broke the silence. He seemed to always be the one doing that.

  “So, what's going on?” he asked.

  “What exactly do you mean?” I asked in return.

  “What made you tear up? What is it that they don't know? Why were they in Michigan, with your family, for Thanksgiving, while you were here? What mishap happened to your phone? Anything,” he said. “Just give me something.”

  “How were your meetings?” I asked.

  “I'm not exactly sure yet,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head and frown on his face. “Things are out of my hands. Your turn.”

  He took another bite of food, as I set my plate down again.

  “I'm not sure where to begin,” I said.

  “Wherever you want,” he said.

  “Jeff filed for divorce,” I said, instantly feeling a bit of relief from being able to tell someone.

  “Before you came here?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, with a shake of my head. “Just days ago.”

  “Your brother doesn't know?” he asked.

  “No,” I answered, as I shook my head from side to side. “They weren't home when I was served.”

  “Seriously?” he asked. “Your husband was here?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “That wasn't how I got the papers though.”

  “I'm confused,” he said, as he set his own plate down and turned toward me on the couch.

  “It's a long and extremely embarrassing story,” I said. “He did something, had been for over a year.”

  “What?” he snapped. “A year. You have a baby, don't you?”

  “And how do you know that?” I asked.

  “Back to your story, princess,” he said.

  “I do,” I said. “That's where embarrassing comes in. He was doing her before I got pregnant, while I was pregnant, and after I had the baby. She's his assistant.”

  “Oh shit!” he said. “That sucks.”

  “When I found out, I left that second,” I said. “That was when I came here.”

  “So, when was he here?” he asked.

  “The day after Thanksgiving,” I answered. “He was at a hotel and asked me to meet him. I did, but it didn't work out the way he'd hoped it would.”

  “Okay,” he said cautiously.

  “He gave me a deadline. I had two weeks to get home,” I said.

  “You didn't go,” he said, as if he was lining it all up in his head.

  “I didn't,” I said. “Then there was a knock at the door. The guy asked my name and then handed me the papers. He made sure to let me know that I'd been served. Then he was gone.”

  “You said that was a few days ago?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “What did the lawyer say?” he asked.

  “What lawyer?” I asked him.

  “Yours,” he said in an aggravated tone.

  “I don't have one,” I said. “I have no money to get one.”

  “What
?” he asked.

  “He reported all of my credit cards stolen,” I said. “I don't have a way to get to any other money either.”

  “I can't believe that. What about James?” he asked.

  “What about him?” I asked. “No way am I asking him. When I found out my cards had been reported, I called James to come and help me at the store. He was pissed.”

  “That's different,” he said. “I would have been pissed too.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You need a lawyer.”

  “I need to respond to the papers,” I said, just as sternly as he'd just spoken to me. “That will give me time to figure out the lawyer situation. I want a plan when I go to James with everything. You said that you have kids. You're divorced, aren't you?”

  “I am,” he said. “I got screwed, and I had a good lawyer.”

  He reached over toward the table next to him and grabbed his laptop. Then he opened it and started clicking around.

  “You need to do something before the holiday,” he said. “You're going to fight him, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Not on the divorce, but on everything else.”

  He was mumbling something while he read. Then he started asking me questions.

  “How many houses do you have?” he asked.

  “Two,” I replied.

  “Two,” he repeated back, as he typed.

  “Yes,” I said. “We have a vacation house on the lake. That kind of bit me in the ass.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “That's where he kept me while he had her living with him,” I said.

  “Are you fucking serious?” he snapped. “You had no idea?”

  “None,” I answered. “He played the whole protective angle. He cared about us and didn't want us driving alone, so he'd come to us, and when summer was over, he'd bring us home.”

  “So, how did you find out?” he asked.

  “I drove home alone when I got tired of waiting for him,” I said, with a shake of my head. “There she was, in my robe, standing in my house.”

  “I feel for you. Are you wanting to fight for one or both homes?” he asked.

  “I don't know.”

  “They won't take your car. You'll need to have something to drive the kids around in,” he said.

  “That's what I want to fight for,” I said.

  “Your car?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, as I shook my head at him. “The kids. He wants full custody.”