by Aria Cole
“Delilah,” His hands were at my shoulders, his body pushing both of us against the padded walls of the workout room. “I promise, whoever gave you the bad impression of ball players, I’m not them.” His nose snaked along my neck and sent shivers coursing in molten waves through my veins.
I slammed my eyes closed, sucking in vital breaths of oxygen even though he was too close, he was right here, his lips inches away from being pressed against mine.
“I want to taste those pretty lips.” Cash’s voice ate up the air between us. My mind raged, my stomach flipped, fire burned from my toes all the way to my head. “And that look on your face tells me you need kissing, and I know I’m the only man to do it.”
My hands slipped up his chest, the hard ridges of muscle sending tingles like fireworks through my fingers. I didn’t know what this was, but it felt like waves of energy coming off him, melding with mine, syncing together and bonding us inexplicably. I was drunk on Cash Greenwood, just like every other girl who sat in those bleachers or watched him play a game on TV.
I couldn’t deal with those other girls.
This life wasn’t for me. I was sure of that, at least.
“Cash, we’re not going to happen. Thank you for the coffee, I hope your shoulder starts feeling better, but please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“What’s hard about it, Delilah? You’re the first woman I’ve ever seen in my life who makes me feel things a man feels for a woman. Fuck your stereotypes and look at me, not the game. I’ve never fucked a baseball groupie. My head’s in the game and that’s it. I’ve never loved anything more than I love baseball, but damn, you make me want to love you. Delilah, you walk into a room and you’re all I see. In that stadium of 60,000 people, it’s you I see. When I close my eyes at night, it’s your face I dream of.” His thumb trailed across my lower lip, causing it to tremble and me to melt under his touch. “And I know you see me, too.”
I sucked in desperate breaths, willing my brain to work, willing my body to run, to scream, to kiss, to anything. Anything. Move, Delilah. Tell him to stop touching you, Delilah.
But I couldn’t. I was rooted in place.
“You’re not ready, but you’ll get there. We make sense, Delilah. You just need to stop denying it and see it for what it really is.”
I shook my head, fighting angry tears that had climbed up the back of my throat. I knew he was right. I knew I’d built a wall around my heart. It was all out of protection. I didn’t want to be scared and alone again.
“You’re wrong, Cash. You couldn't be more wrong.” I dropped my palms from his chest and turned for the door, the lie tainting my lips like poison.
I curled up on the couch, wearing snowflake PJs and a tank top, with a blanket wrapped around my legs as I watched the game that night. I usually liked to be present. I’d found that chatting with the coach during the game often helped him make decisions about who to put in next, especially when I had the ability to run stats on the other team, but I could work from home almost as easily. I was determined and dedicated, but Cash had thrown me a curveball this afternoon.
His hands on my skin…his breath whispering across my neck were like a ghost haunting my memories. I pressed a hand to my chest, the memory so powerful a wild shiver raced through me. In all the teams I’d done consulting with, never had I had this issue, but I’d also never worked with a baseball team before, either. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I should have steered clear knowing it was a trigger of mine.
Or maybe it was just Cash Greenwood.
I sighed, watching the seventh inning. Pitbull’s Greenlight blasted through the stadium and pumped up the crowd as Cash walked to home plate. Conflicting emotions steamrolled through my mind as I watched him. He was thoughtful, smart, so incredibly sexy it was dangerous, and quite possibly the most talented human being I’d ever known. And that said a lot given I’d met a lot of talented players over the years.
Cash bent his knees, his eyes intent on the pitcher before the ball flew to home plate and Cash swung, a crack splitting the cool night air as the ball went high. I watched riveted as he launched for first base, his eyes on the ball as it sliced through the outfield, finally landing just out of reach of the outfielder on the other team.
He’d gotten to second.
Good, okay. He didn’t look too bad, his shoulder didn’t seem to bother him at all. I didn’t know it’d light a fire under him when I’d told him his numbers were down, but he’d surprised the hell out of me with his focus, to the point that it concerned me. Practice was a fine balance between honing your skills and overdoing it. Fatigued muscles didn’t play good baseball, but Cash seemed okay.
I watched as another batter took the plate, a shortstop whom I hadn’t had much interaction with yet, but he hit a grounder to right field, and Cash launched off the bag again, headed for third. His eyes were focused as his legs powered him across the field, carrying him to third while the batter landed on first.
One more hit and Cash was home. Another point to break ahead in this game. They’d been tied since the third inning, and it was beginning to feel like this game would go into overtime, until Cash had batted anyway.
Rodriguez stepped up to the plate before the other team waved their pitcher in and replaced him with another. Their star pitcher. Shit.
I tapped out a quick text to the manager of the team, knowing he’d be the only one to see my text since Coach was always so focused on what was happening on the field.
Jones throws a killer curveball. Tell Rodriguez to move about two inches away from the plate and he’ll shatter it.
I was relieved when the manager’s text shot back a second later. Thanks.
I was doubly relieved when I caught a signal from one of the guys on the bench, catching Rodriguez’s eyes and flashing him the sign for curveball. Rodriguez nodded, took half a step back from the plate, then assumed the position. All eyes were on him. With two outs he had to nail this one if we were going to pull ahead.
I watched Cash, his body fluid and strong like the well-honed machine he was. Never in my life had I been so turned on, and I couldn't even bring myself to care anymore. Sitting in front of this TV watching the game, I felt safer, more protected, more willing to indulge my teen-girl fantasies of shagging the hottest player on the team. I couldn’t bring myself to flirt with him in the flesh, but right here on my couch, fantasies were running wild.
The pitcher wound up his arm, eyes flashing as he released the ball, and just like I’d predicted, that ball curved deeply to the left before approaching home plate. Rodriguez’s body tensed, his fists white as he clutched the bat. He powered through his swing and sent the ball flying far out into left field, way beyond Cash, far beyond their outfielder, until it ricocheted right off the wall of the outfield, bouncing onto the turf as Cash and Miller launched from their bases. Like a well-oiled machine, each player rounded the field while the outfielder finally grabbed the ball and launched it to the pitcher, hoping to get it home before Cash could score.
I shrieked, jumping up in my small living room and clapping just as Cash’s foot landed on home. Safe.
Suddenly I was sad that I wasn’t there in person to celebrate with the team. The energy of the crowd pulsed through you, energizing you and raising the stakes of the game. I loved being at the field more than I’d even realized.
I sat back down on the couch when the team high-fived Cash in the dugout, a broad smile lighting his face. He was devastatingly handsome. He laughed with the guys and nodded his head as he cheered the other players on when it was their turn. I was completely enamored with him, and I hated every minute.
I hated that he was, in fact, sweet. He’d pulled at my heartstrings earlier today when he’d touched me, because that sent my body into a danger zone. It terrified me, all the painful memories of my past coming to the surface as my heart and my head fought for dominance.
Cash made me crazy, but I was beginning to find myself addicted to that feeling
down low in my stomach.
The truth was, I’d never felt this way about anyone, either. I’d always been a pro at turning off my feelings and ruling with my head, statistics and numbers filling the empty spaces most people packed with love and sex and money.
Watching Cash play was equal parts maddening and thrilling, and part of me thought if I had to watch anyone play baseball for the rest of my life, I’d choose him.
5
Cash
I shoved a hand through my damp hair, a bag of my favorite noodle takeout in hand. It was late, the game had ended less than an hour ago, and all I could think about doing was seeing her, talking about the game with her, just talking to her.
“Hello?” The door swung open, and her pretty lips dropped into an O.
“Evenin’.”
“Cash, what are you—”
“I brought food.” I lifted the bag in my hand. “From the noodle shop next to my house.”
A stubborn grin lifted her features, and I thought right then and there I was done for. I was cracking her tough shell and that thought alone nearly killed me in the best way.
“I like noodles.” She opened the door wider. “You’re spoiling me. When someone else turns your head and you finally give up on me, I’m going to miss the gestures.”
“Well, obviously you don’t know me well enough yet.” I stepped into her living room, my eyes holding hers. “Because I don’t give up.”
Her eyes held mine for a long beat before she slowly nodded. “I’m learning that.”
She snagged the bag from my hands and turned, and for the first time my eyes cast down her curvy body. She wore the cutest goddamn pair of snowflake pajamas I’d ever seen, made all the more endearing by the fact that it wasn’t even winter. The thin straps of her tank top begged for my teeth and made me want to peel the clothing off her body one inch at a time and track my tongue up and down all her luscious curves.
She reached the kitchen and turned, pulling plates from the cupboard before opening up the brown bag. She leaned over, pulling forks from a drawer, the deep vee of her cleavage making my cock throb painfully behind the zipper of my jeans. I’d never so blatantly checked out a woman before—I had respect for the female population—but there was something about Delilah that turned me into a raging caveman myself.
I licked my lips, wondering what her nipples would taste like on my tongue, the faint outline of those little tight buds peeking through the cotton and causing my brain to flood with a thousand fantasies, all starring her.
“Did you watch the game?” I took a plate from her hand as she gestured for me to sit on the couch with her. She must have been snuggled up in blankets all night, working from the couch with her laptop. I see a long spreadsheet of numbers filling the screen.
“Of course.” She took a bite of her noodles, then moaned. “These are the best noodles I’ve everrrrr had.” My dick jumped at the soft noise escaping her pretty lips. How I longed to make her moan like that as my tongue roamed her luscious body. What was it about this girl that made me so damn crazy?
Because she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
I sighed, averting my eyes to the TV, where she had ESPN playing on low volume, updates from all the MLB games scrolling along the bottom feed.
Christ, she watched the sports channel, too. Could she be anymore perfect?
“You’ve been working all night?”
“Mhmm.” She hummed as she ate.
“You know you could probably take some of that advice you dished out early about pushing yourself too hard.”
“No, it’s totally different for me.” She shook her head and twirled her fork in the pile of noodles.
“Hardly.”
“Definitely.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment, but I saw the amused grin tipping her lips. “How did you find out where I live, anyway?”
I shrugged. “A determined man has his ways.”
“So you’re a stalker?”
“Only if you like being stalked, baby. I can be anything you want me to be.”
“You’re impossible.” She turned up the volume on the TV, attempting to cut off this conversation.
I turned it right back down on her. “Coach gave me your phone number, I did a reverse lookup and got lucky. Did you know you’re listed for any stranger to see online?”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Yeah, but that’s dangerous for a single woman. Maybe you should get a dog or something.”
“Seems like I’ve got my own right now.”
I laughed at her insinuation that I was a dog. That was so far from the truth. If only she knew.
“So what brings you by, other than the noodles? Thank you, by the way.”
“I just wanted to see if you were okay. After earlier…I just wanted to say…well.” I shoved a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure what I wanted to say except that I missed you at the game. You know, I had a hard time concentrating when I didn’t see you. So I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay. And feed you. I’m afraid you don’t eat.”
The chuckle that echoed around the space was like a siren song to my battered heart. “I eat plenty, but the noodles are delicious. If it weren’t for them, I would have kicked you out already by now.”
“I believe it. You’re a tiger, Delilah.”
She paused, her eyes glazing with some inexplicable emotion before she turned back to the TV, taking another bite from her plate.
“What was that? What did I say?”
“I just…” She pursed her lips as she thought. “I don’t talk about myself much, so this is hard for me, but you’ve got to understand something, Cash. You’re sweet, you really are—”
“And handsome.”
She giggled. “Yeah, a little. But this still isn’t going to happen between us. And I have a feeling the only reason you want me is because I’m the only girl who doesn’t fall all over you when you walk into a room.”
“That’s not true for a second.” I set my plate down and inched across the couch to her. “Your smile drives me insane, the way your lips curve up just right here…” I dusted my thumb across the corner of her mouth. “It undoes me. The way your eyes light up when you’re passionate about something, which is pretty much everything—”
“Cash?” My name whispers past her delicate lips.
“Yeah, baby.”
“You have to stop touching me.”
I dropped my hand instantly, eyes narrowing. Her gaze caught mine before she shrank away. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Tell me then.”
“No, no, let’s just keep this professional.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why, Cash? I’m just a girl. There’s nothing special about me. I’m nerdy and quiet and way too cerebral. I live alone and I like it. Relationships just aren’t for me.”
I shook my head, listening to her explain but not believing a damn word of it. “You should see yourself the way I see you.”
Her eyes widened as her chest rose and fell with her breaths. “And how’s that?”
“Intoxicating. Dizzying. Completely fucking incredible in every way.”
“You’re crazy and delusional.”
I shook my head, a smile pulling at my lips as I watched her in the dim light of the living room. “Or maybe I’m drunk on you.”
She set her plate down, glancing at the clock on the screen before swallowing and turning back to me. “Cash…you don’t understand what I’ve been through. I’ve been around ball players my entire life. I remember my dad coming home from practice reeking of booze and women, and starting fights with my mom. It was horrible. One night I hid in my closet, all the stuffed animals I owned piled on top of me. I was convinced they’d keep me safe… The things my parents said to each other, no person should ever say to anyone they love. I’m not even sure they loved each other. It looked a whole lot more like hate to me. My mother would just sit there on the
floor afterwards, crying or medicating herself to sleep, and my father would storm out, going out to look for more baseball groupies who would do whatever he said and never talk back or question him.” The thought of her as a little girl, all alone and scared, ripped my heart out. No wonder she had such an aversion to ball players, it made perfect sense.
“You didn’t deserve that, Delilah.” I caught her hand in mine, heart aching for the little girl she’d been and for all the pain she still carried on her shoulders. I’d do anything to fix it for her. She deserved a life filled with love and happiness, and I wanted to be the man to give it to her. I loved baseball, but at some point that world would fade away. Delilah was forever. What we could have together would last an eternity. She was just too stubborn to see it, but I’d crack her shell. I already had.
“The baseball life isn’t for me, Cash. I’ll never be a woman who can be a ball player’s wife—all the women, the partying, the late nights. I like boring, predictable, and stable. Those are the things that matter to me. So what if you give me a few butterflies—”
“I give you butterflies?” I teased.
“You give me a case of wild butterflies. So many butterflies I think I might be sick, so you see, you really make me sick to my stomach, which isn’t a good thing,” she finished, a satisfied smile on her gorgeous face.
“You know what I call that?” I leaned a little closer, soaking up her sexy scent as I whispered at her neck. “Chemistry. Anticipation. Desire.”
Delilah’s pulse quickened at her neck, her body shifting as ragged little breaths parted her pouty little lips. “I’m a stubborn girl, Cash.”
“I guarantee I’m a more determined man.”
I could wait Delilah out. I was working the long game.
6
Delilah
A half a dozen games later, I sat in a quiet hotel room running statistics for the game we’d lost tonight. The team was better—the analytics I’d run before had proven it—but it didn’t make the loss any less crushing. A few of the guys on the team were spending time in the hotel VIP bar drinking off their loss and preparing to face the same team tomorrow. The Timberwolves could do it. I knew they could. There was so much talent on this team, but we had to get the strategy straight, and that took a lot of time and a lot of analyzing, which was why I was plopped here in pajamas working at nearly midnight.