by Elley Arden
“And if I disagree with you, if I say there’s something more important than my career?”
“Then I’m going to think you’re in love, man, and I’m going to have no choice but to book you on the first flight to Pittsburgh. So let me ask you again, nothing’s more important than your career, right?”
“Wrong,” Grey said with a grin.
“Then get off your ass and let’s get you out of here.”
The grin stretched into a giant smile as Grey lifted out of the chair and followed Jordon into the house. He was going back to Pittsburgh — to Nel.
No plane on earth could get him there fast enough.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nel clenched her hands and swiped her tongue around her dry mouth as she stood on the front porch of the house across the street from Grey’s.
She’d waited to make the short-but-agonizing trip until The Fortune Agency sign was yanked out of the front yard. But now that she was here, she battled the usual nerves that went along with cold calling, reminding herself the worst thing they could do was slam the door in her face. And while that would be bad, it wouldn’t kill her — she’d survived a lot worse lately.
The door clicked and creaked, and an older man appeared on the other side. Bald with smooth skin, a slight frame, and wire-rims low on his nose, he smiled. “I don’t suppose you’re selling Girl Scout cookies, are you?”
“No,” Nel said, smiling back, thinking a packet of Thin Mints was the perfect thing to calm her queasy stomach. But since she didn’t have any, she rolled back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and took advantage of the opening. “While I don’t sell cookies, I do sell houses.” She nearly groaned at the cheesy segue.
Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to mind. He slid the glass off his nose and chuckled. “Penelope Parker, I presume.”
She startled at the use of her given name. “I go by Nel, but yes. How did you know?”
“I’ve been expecting you. Florence across the street called and said she was listing her house with you. She was pretty adamant I do the same. And let me tell you, I’ve lived here long enough to know Florence isn’t one you want to cross.” He chuckled again. “I’m Jack Lewis, and it’s nice to meet you, Nel. Come on in.”
Nel smiled, remembering Florence pointing out Nel’s given name on the listing contract. “My mother’s name was Penelope,” she’d said with a wistful look on her face. The moment added a sense of kismet to their meeting. Just like this man expecting Nel added a sense of kismet to this meeting.
Some things were meant to be.
And some things weren’t. She tried to block another onslaught of Grey-related thoughts, but they barreled through her defenses, making her words slow and stilted as she moved through the house, exchanging small talk with the man. How could it be that on the verge of having everything she ever wanted professionally speaking, a giant portion of her was empty?
They walked into a sunroom where an elegant older lady draped an open book over the arm of a couch and stood.
“Meg, this is Nel Parker, the real estate agent Florence was telling us about.”
Nel reached out to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, dear.”
Over the next two hours, the couple gave Nel the grand tour of their gorgeous home and a figurative tour of the neighborhood, pointing out all the older couples who might be interested in selling. They explained their need to downsize due to rising medical expenses, and they plied her full of coffee and muffins.
And then they signed on the dotted line, giving Nel her second listing on Mulberry Run.
Grey’s house would make three.
She should’ve been happier. But over the last few weeks she’d come to accept the hollow space in her heart, knowing it waited to be filled by Grey. She used to think whatever was between them was strong enough to linger through the rough spots, and rekindle whenever they managed to be together.
Only he’d stopped calling with any real frequency, and when he did there was a distance made of more than miles. That distance made her put less stock in overly romanticized ideas like being together — ever. At her weakest, she wished his dogs had never run in front of her car, giving her cause to meet him. But every once in a while — usually when she drifted off to sleep or was seconds from waking — it was like he was here again. And in those moments, she was whole. Pathetic … but whole.
Nel had no idea what the future held for either of them, but as long as she loved him, she hoped he’d wake up one day and realize he loved her, too.
• • •
The taxi slowed in front of the big stone house on Mulberry Run in Pittsburgh and for the first time in weeks Grey felt like he was home, like he belonged somewhere. And joy ripped through the scars in his chest.
His thank-you was a bit too exuberant for a crappy taxi ride, and his tip was overly generous, too, but he couldn’t stop the flow of happiness bubbling up from the cracks in the misery that had overshadowed everything he’d done these last few weeks.
Because Nel was here.
Her car was in the driveway, parked next to his truck, and although he wasn’t cleared to drive either vehicle, he’d never been happier to see a couple of cars. He hurried up the driveway to the walk, wondering if she saw the taxi, knowing if she did she was probably shocked, because he didn’t tell her he was coming. He envisioned a big-screen-worthy surprise, complete with Nel running into his arms. But part of him worried enough time had passed for her to question her love for him, and if that was the case, there was a chance her reception would be lackluster.
When she didn’t answer the door before he reached the stoop, he figured she hadn’t seen him arrive — he hoped that was the case. His doubt grew with every breath. What if she didn’t want him here?
With one hand, he fumbled the keys from his pocket and into the lock, leaning against the door to open it. The view on the other side stopped him.
It was perfect. Furniture he recognized from his father’s gaudy collection was mixed with pieces he didn’t recall, creating an oddly welcoming showplace. He closed the door and took a few steps into the great room, marveling at everything from the furniture arrangement to the pictures on the wall. It didn’t feel like a Vegas mausoleum anymore.
It felt like home — his home.
Every last muscle in his body relaxed as he breathed in the woodsy scent of a freshly cleaned house, and he knew … coming here had been the best decision he ever made.
But where was Nel? He took a few more steps and decided surprising her was one thing, while scaring her was another. “Hello?” he called, when what he really wanted was to yell, “Babe, I’m home.” He’d have to wait and see his reception before he started throwing phrases like that around.
And then came noise from the far side of the house. Grey’s heart fluttered, because he knew what those uneven thuds meant. His boys were coming to greet him.
Blackjack and Joker burst from the hall amid a barrage of snorts. Hiding his right hand behind his back until the initial rush of excitement passed, Grey squatted to their level. It was pure chaos, and Grey couldn’t stop smiling.
But where was Nel? Surely she heard the commotion. Unless she was in the shower or blow-drying her hair. Maybe she was getting ready for an open house. He stilled, listening over the dogs panting.
“Come on, boys,” he said, standing. “Let’s go find her.” She had to be here. Her car was in the driveway.
He searched, which took longer than necessary, because every room offered another opportunity for him to marvel at the transformations Nel and her brothers had made in his absence. Even using half of what was already here, she managed to make it look and feel like she did; a casual beauty, an easy elegance. Nel’s mark was everywhere he turned, but she wasn’t here …
She’d be bac
k, he told himself, trying not to obsess about where she might be on a Sunday.
The dogs clamored at his feet, with Joker dragging a shredded towel around behind him. The instinct to reach down with his right hand was still strong, despite weeks of little use.
Grey used his left hand to grab the loose end. He tugged once, and with a vicious shake of his head, Joker ripped the towel free. The dog brought it back, urging Grey with a nudge to the thigh to keep playing, but Grey preferred to avoid the painful reminder of his injured hand.
He walked on, and the dogs followed. When they reached the kitchen, Blackjack and Joker headed straight for the French doors, overlooking the back yard. They walked tight circles on the doormat, and Grey knew they wanted out … but he didn’t want to go out. The bright yellow tennis ball taunted him from the patio. The dogs started to whine — he had to try. It wouldn’t be the same with his left hand, but maybe it would be enough to keep them happy and give him some sense of accomplishment.
When he opened the doors, Blackjack bolted for the ball, bringing it straight to Grey. He took a deep breath and gripped it hard in his left hand, reminding himself it didn’t have to be good enough to reach a cut-off man from centerfield — it just had to be good enough for the dogs.
He pulled back his arm and pushed through the awkward motion, releasing the ball at a point just above his head, watching it sail from his hand in a tailing motion. It landed in the yard next door, several feet from where Grey had been aiming. But the distance was there, and the dogs didn’t seem to mind. A pleasant chill rolled up his belly and settled in his chest. He wasn’t completely useless.
Joker crushed the ball in his mouth, barreling toward Grey with Blackjack on his heels. “Good boy, bring it,” Grey called …
But the dogs ran right past him.
• • •
Nel panicked when she saw Blackjack and Joker running across the gap between Florence’s yard and Grey’s yard. When they disappeared behind the house, she sprinted across the street, heading straight for the backyard, trying her damnedest to figure how they got out. They couldn’t open doors, and she hadn’t left any open. Had she?
The answer stood with his back to her a few feet from the patio. The surprise of seeing him stopped her on the top cobblestone step, but her heart pounded and her muscles twitched in excited defiance. Run to him, said a voice in her head. But what if she was dreaming?
There was only one way to find out.
Nel opened her mouth to call his name at the same time the dogs saw her, careening around Grey, and charging her. She looked down for a moment, weathering their powerful nudges with a bend to her knees and arms around their necks, and when she looked up again — half expecting the vision to have evaporated — he was still there, looking at her.
“Oh my God,” she said straightening, the dogs clamoring at her feet. “You’re here.”
His smile was guarded. “Is that a good oh-my-God?”
His left hand stuffed in his jean pocket, forcing one side of his black ski jacket behind him, showing off a snow-white T-shirt, pulling across the wide chest underneath. He was more beautiful than she remembered. A massive masculine presence softened by the hint of uncertainty that played out on his gorgeous face.
Words failed her, stuck someplace between her aching heart and her watering mouth, so with the dogs on her heels, she walked until she stood before him. On tiptoe, she took his face in her icy hands and lowered him for a kiss. For a second, she stilled — lips to lips — breathing in the warm, cinnamon air that flowed out of him. And then he clamped an arm around her waist, forcing her against his solid frame, changing the angle of his lips, applying a persuasive pressure that made her open her mouth and come undone.
He was here. Really here.
Heat slithered from the tip of her tongue, down her throat, to her belly, and a woozy fog thickened the meager thoughts in her head until she wasn’t thinking at all … just feeling. His tongue sliding over her tongue, her breasts full and hot against his chest, his fingers tucking inside the waist band of her pants, making her hips arch in search of him.
“So what you’re telling me is it was a good oh-my-God.” His wet lips moved against hers, his words breathy.
“Very good,” she managed, despite the overwhelming need to fuse her mouth to his.
He ran a hand the length of her back to her neck where he laced fingers into her hair. “Nel … ” he pulled his head back further, the heavy-lidded eyes contradictory to his sweet smile. “ … do not sell this house.”
It was her turn to pull away. Her hands slipped from his cheeks to his shoulders, and she settled on flat feet.
“Why not?” she whispered, afraid to answer her own question because of the sheer amount of ridiculous hope pooling in her heart.
“I’m going to be here for a while.”
Her heart hoarded blood, making her head a complete vacuum. Worse, she couldn’t read him for answers. Half his face still darkened from the intensity of their unexpected tryst, and the other half was blank now that his smile had faded. “I don’t understand … you need to start rehab.”
“I can do that here. Jordon is working on the details.”
Happiness sparked but didn’t fire completely. She should be deliriously happy about this, right? But her happiness felt selfish, and she refused to indulge until she knew he wasn’t making a mistake. She hadn’t told him she loved him to make him choose.
“What about the team?” she asked. “They can’t be too happy about it.”
His shoulders shrugged beneath her hands. “They’re not, but the way I see it, rehab is rehab, wherever I do it. And at the end of the day, if the hand doesn’t get better, they’re going to cut me, and I’ll be leaving Nashville anyway.” His cheek twitched.
“They can’t do that.”
He scoffed. “They can. I made it an easy option for them by getting a non-baseball related injury. It’s in my contract.”
“Oh.” She hated that. She’d gone over and over the injury since it happened, wanting to strangle herself for falling asleep in the first place when she should’ve been awake, making love to him, avoiding the whole dire outcome.
He wrapped his hand around the bulk of her hair, lifting it off her neck in what felt like a makeshift ponytail, and then letting it settle in spine-tickling waves. “I don’t want to talk about baseball. I want to talk about what comes after baseball.”
Nel’s body was a complete contradiction, buzzing with basic desire from being so close to him, and yet aching for the state of his career. “Don’t talk like that. Baseball’s not over. I refuse to believe that.”
“I like the way you think,” he said, brightening with a smile. “And I hope I have years left in me. I do. But at some point, I won’t, and when that time comes, I want to make sure what comes next, comes next with you.”
She gasped, and cold air tinged with him clogged her throat. If she was dreaming this, it would be the cruelest dream ever.
“I love you, Nel,” he continued, sliding his hand to her cheek, smoothing his thumb across her lips, and smiling like loving her was all he cared to do. “It’s a clumsy kind of love, because I don’t have many good examples of the strong kind, but I figure if you saw past all that to love me in the first place, then we’ve got a pretty good shot at making this last.”
She gasped again, because frankly it was the only way she was capable of breathing. There wasn’t enough air getting to her brain to cause much more than truncated thoughts, so again, she kissed him, this time, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Sweet Baby Jesus. Was it possible for a person to have everything she ever wanted?
He wrapped both arms around her waist, but only one palm flattened against her back. Her swelling bubble of joy sprung a leak. She wanted him to have everything he wanted, too.
With palms to his chest, she put a couple inches of space between them. “This will be no vacation, Kemmons.”
He cocked a brow. “Excuse me.”
“If you think I’ll go easier on you than Jordon or anyone in Nashville, you’re crazy. Under my watch, you’re going to work harder and longer than you think you’re capable of.”
“So you’re my physical therapist now?”
“No, but you just fired me from being your realtor. I need something else to do.” She grinned.
“I’ll give you something else to do.” He wrapped her up and backed her toward the door, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, sparking the happiness to full flames.
They nearly tripped on the dogs heading into the house, but somehow they managed to stay upright.
When he lifted his face from her neck, he looked around with a smile. “You did an amazing job in here.”
“Thank you. It’s just a little staging.” She turned in his arm to study the results of her hard work. “I can change anything you want me to change now that you’re … staying.” The word snagged on her tongue, like she couldn’t believe it was true.
He pulled her to him and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips. “It’s perfect.”
“Are you sure?” She was talking about so much more than the house.
Grey chuckled. “You sound like Jordon.”
His brother couldn’t possibly be happy about this. Nel still caught a chill when she remembered the way he treated her at the hospital. “What about Jordon? What about your plan to pay him back?”
“He said the best payback was me living happily ever after in this house … with you.”
She smiled until her lips hurt. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.” He wrapped her up hard and warm against his chest.