Crazy Beautiful

by Penny Dee

  Piper picked a shade of nail polish from the basket and shook it. “Probably.”

  It was an offhanded reply. But one I felt in the pit of my stomach. To distract me from the idea I focused on painting my toenails again. If I were honest, I hated the idea of Heath touching, kissing and loving another girl while I sat there missing him. Which was just ridiculous. Because he wasn’t mine.

  “Want me to call Jesse and find out?” she asked.

  When I looked up she was looking at me. It was a gentle, kind look. As if she somehow knew what I was thinking and wanted to put my fears at ease.

  I shrugged and then shook my head.

  “If Heath wants to play with other girls then he can. Like I said, we are just friends.”

  She reluctantly nodded.

  “Okay.” She went back to painting her toes. “But what happens at the end of summer?”

  “At the end of summer I go home.”

  “And Heath?”

  “Heath?” I looked up. “Heath keeps being Heath. He’ll be fine.”

  She scoffed. “Are you kidding me? If you leave at the end of summer, he’ll shatter like a porcelain doll.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She sighed and shook her hair. “When are you going to face the facts? That boy is crazy about you.”

  “Crazy is right,” I joked. Then added, “As a friend maybe. Nothing more.”

  She shook her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he is in love with you.”

  “What?” I waved her off. “No way. Apparently he doesn’t do love.”

  She shrugged. “Well he does now. He just hasn’t worked it out yet.”

  I should have wanted her to be wrong. But part of me hoped she was right. I had to push the thought away before I over analyzed it. What Heath and I had was a friendship. We would never have a love affair. It would ruin what we had when I upped and left.

  After two pitchers of Sangria and a whole lot of laughter, we fell asleep sometime after midnight.

  I woke up on the couch to the smell of bacon and a shirtless Jesse standing over the hob stirring scrambled eggs. I vaguely remembered hearing him arrive home in the early hours of the morning.

  The freshly percolated coffee he handed me was a welcomed sight after the night of alcohol.

  “You’re not leading my girl astray are you, Harlow? Up drinking all night and such. I think Heath is starting to rub off on you.”

  At the mention of Heath’s name I realized that he would be back too. Even groggy with sleep I felt butterflies let loose in my stomach and couldn’t stop the secretive smile touching my lips.

  Piper appeared in her robe and wrapped her arms around Jesse, resting her head on his bare back.

  “Heath doesn’t drink anymore, remember,” she reminded him, her voice still sleepy.

  “Or anything else. Seems he’s giving up on all his vices.” Jesse said.

  When Piper slumped down at the table, Jesse started to serve up the bacon and eggs. He leaned in close to his girlfriend and whispered, “I think the dude is whipped.” And nodded towards me.

  I rolled my eyes as I joined them at the table. It was too early to debate my relationship with Heath.

  During breakfast, Heath rang Jesse’s cell. He took the call outside and they talked for a few minutes before he came back inside.

  “Wow, he really mustn’t want to sleep with you,” Jesse said, putting his cell back in his jeans pocket.

  I looked up from my scrambled eggs, not realizing it had been a topic he’d given much thought to.

  “Why?” I asked, a little too eager for my liking. Suddenly feeling deflated.

  “He just asked us over to his place to watch the game.”

  The game being the Boston Red Sox playing Heath’s favorite team, the Los Angeles Dodgers.

  He was a mad Dodgers fan. Apparently he’d gotten into a fight once with an overzealous Giants fan and the two had landed themselves in the ER needing stitches. All over who was the better team between the Giants and the Dodgers. When Heath was passionate about something, he was usually over the top about it. According to Piper anyway.

  “And what does that have to do with Heath not wanting to have sex with Harlow?” Piper asked.

  “Because, he never invites girls over to his house. Ever.”

  For all the time we had hung out together, I had never been to his home.

  “I’ve been there loads of times,” Piper said.

  Jesse flicked her a look. “Girls he intends to sleep with.”

  “I would assume that’s why he would invite girls back to his house,” I suggested.

  Jesse shook his head. “I’ve known Heath for most my life and not once has he ever invited a girl around to his house. He doesn’t want them knowing where he lives. Once he’s …” He looked apologetic. “You know … been with them … he doesn’t want them just dropping in. He has enough problems with girls stalking him at The Palace and the venues we play at.”

  “Talk about an occupational hazard,” I muttered, returning to my magazine, preferring to read about the bizarre OCDs of some Hollywood celebrities, than to talk about Heath and his conquests.

  “So what do you think?” Piper asked.

  “About Heath’s lack of sexual interest in me?” I flicked the page of my magazine. “Great!”

  “No, about going to watch the game at his place this afternoon?”

  The day stretched ahead of me with no plans. “Sure. Why not.”

  * * * * *

  We stopped at Trader Joes for Cheetos and Budweisers along the way and then a short drive later, Jesse pulled up his Charger out the front of a nice brick and tile home on Baltimore. The house was partially hidden from the street by palm and jacaranda trees, but I could see it had a large, covered-in porch out the front and large stone steps down to the grass. A Harley and an old beat-up van sat in the driveway, alongside a mean looking black Dodge Challenger.

  The front door was open and I could hear the sound of the television.

  When Jesse called out, a guy who was obviously Heath’s brother appeared in the doorway.

  It had to be Leigh. He was an older version of Heath with the same lift-you-off-the-floor-and-dump-you-on-your-ass-smile, dark spiky hair and bright blue eyes.

  Like Heath he had killer dimples, although not as deep. A massive Celtic tattoo curled around his right bicep and crawled across his shoulder to his well-chiseled chest. The words “All or Nothing” curled across his collarbones. Strong forearms flexed as he undid tape from around his knuckles and I remembered Heath telling me he was training for an MMA championship. He had also mentioned that Leigh travelled a lot for his sport and was rarely at home when he was in town because he was usually at the gym. But sometimes he trained in the home gym that was under the house.

  His torso was slick from his workout. Sweat glistened on his flawless skin and dribbled down his washboard stomach. He and Jesse shook hands and he greeted Piper with a kiss on the cheek.

  When it came to me his baby blues twinkled and he grinned broadly. “So you’re the H-bomb.”

  My cheeks went red under his appraisal. “Harlow,” I managed to mumble.

  He kissed me on the cheek and I was caught in a cloud of pure male testosterone and the musky scent of his deodorant.

  He nodded and stood back, shaking his head and grinning, before saying, “Baby brother.” Like Heath had achieved something monumental.

  Whatever. It was obviously some private joke between the two brothers.

  “Heath invited us around to watch the game,” Jesse explained walking in, Budweiser’s under his arm and Piper under the other.

  “The douche is in the shower,” Leigh said, and then looking at me with a grin added, “Probably prettying himself up for company.”

  He led us into the lounge room. The house was an old family home centered around the main lounge room which was huge. Kitchen and dining were to the left, bathrooms and bedrooms to the right. In the
center of it all was a massive plasma television that almost took up the entire length of one wall. Three couches were arranged in an L shape in front, for maximum viewing.

  “Make yourselves at home guys. Want me to put those in the fridge?” Leigh offered, nodding towards the beers.

  As he disappeared into the kitchen, a door in the hallway opened and Heath appeared. Freshly showered he padded out from the bathroom with only a towel hanging off his hips.

  Oh.

  Hell!

  Before I could stop them, my eyes crawled up the length of his flawless torso of thick muscles to the deeply defined perfection of his chest, and across the broad expanse of powerful shoulders.

  My mouth fell open. Damp skin still sparkled with water and his short hair was wet and spiky.

  I hurriedly dragged my eyes away and shifted awkwardly on the spot, determined not to be affected by him. He would find that amusing. Hilarious even. So I put on my most nonchalant face and feigned disinterest. I wasn’t about to let him see the affect he had on me being so … undressed.

  As I drew my eyes up I found his beautiful blue eyes twinkling over at me in amusement.

  I tried to look mildly bored. Just so he knew I wasn’t impressed.

  But then he smiled at me and I was devastated all over again.

  “You came,” he said, almost excited. I couldn’t help but smile because his face lit up as he spoke and he looked so happy. He was a very attentive host. He sat us down and brought us beers and bowls of potato chips and Cheetos.

  “Dude … seriously … go put some pants on,” Jesse said, shoving potato chips into his mouth. “And while you’re at it, how about a shirt? You’re making me look bad.”

  When Heath disappeared to put on clothes, I heard a female voice down the hall. Within seconds a stunning brunette came around the corner looking effortlessly beautiful in a pair of tight jeans, a red strapless top and lots of accessories. She was incredibly beautiful.

  So much for Heath not inviting his girls over.

  She smiled brightly at us and then came over to me.

  “Hey, I’m Nikki.”

  “I’m Harlow.” I smiled back.

  Her grin grew bigger and her blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “So you’re Harlow.” Just like Leigh she began nodding as if Heath had achieved something super incredible. “Well. Done. Big. Brother.”

  It clicked then. The blue eyes. The cleft in the chin. The defined jaw and flawless brown skin.

  This was Heath’s sister.

  “Boy, when Heath said you were attractive, he wasn’t lying,” Nikki said as she grabbed a handful of potato chips and perched on the arm of the sofa.

  I really didn’t know what to say. Firstly, Heath had spoken to her about me? And secondly, he had called me attractive?

  A thrill of excitement made its way through me.

  Not knowing what to say, I bit my bottom lip and mumbled, “Thanks.”

  Heath reappeared, dressed in army shorts and a black t-shirt that hugged every perfect muscle of his chest and shoulders. His hair was still damp and he smelled like fresh deodorant and soap.

  “I’ve met your girl Heath. You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful,” Nikki teased. Her eyes sparkled with mischievousness as she popped a potato chip into her mouth.

  Heath shot her a warning look. “She’s not my girl, Nikki.”

  “Really? Because the amount of times you talk about her—”

  “Don’t you have a date or something?” Heath interrupted, obviously trying to put an end to his sister’s amusement at his expense.

  She shrugged. “It can wait.”

  “I wish it wouldn’t,” Heath replied.

  Nikki sighed and stood up. “Fine. I’ll be back later. Enjoy the game.” Once again her bright blue eyes found mine and crinkled with amusement. “It was lovely to meet you Harlow.”

  I nodded and smiled. “Thanks, you too.”

  Leigh re-joined us after his shower and promptly took over one of the couches.

  With Jesse and Piper on the other couch, Heath and I had to share the remaining one. When he grabbed my feet and put them over his legs, I didn’t stop him.

  The game started, and Heath decided to explain baseball to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them my brother played pro-ball and that I’d been raised on a steady diet of Braves and Sand Gnats. It was as if he believed I was raised wearing ribbon and bows. Like I was sugar and spice and all things nice.

  Truth was, I had an older brother and older cousins and we liked to get up close and personal with mud. My youth wasn’t spent in a parlor, primped and perfumed with my hair perfectly coiffed. It was spent climbing trees, fishing local creeks and playing ball in the large fields that surrounded our home.

  Primping and perfuming didn’t start until I needed a bra. When playing with my brother, cousin and the local boys became inappropriate. And my life became about appearances, high teas and bullshit social expectations.

  When one of the Sox hit a foul ball and Heath started to explain what was happening, I told him I’d played baseball before. I just didn’t tell him how much I had played.

  Surprised, he threw me the baseball he was chucking between his hands.

  He scoffed. “You know how to play ball?”

  Offended by his automatic disbelief in my ball abilities, I cocked a brow and my eyes narrowed and twinkled mischievously. “Baby, I was born to play ball.”

  His lips twitched. “Well, you might just have to prove that to me.”

  “Another bet?”

  He smirked. “You’ll lose.”

  I shook my head. Game on. “I don’t think so.”

  He leaned closer, trying to intimidate me. “I swung a bat before I could walk.”

  I threw the ball back to him. “What’s wrong Heath, scared you might lose?”

  He laughed. “Okay, Mickey Mantle, I’ll call your bluff.”

  To Heath’s displeasure the Sox beat the Dodgers, which inspired him to take on our bet and prove a point. We decided to hit the local sports field for a friendly ball game.

  It was late afternoon when we arrived. Heath. Me. Jesse and Piper. Leigh. Armie and Kelsey, whose relationship was currently in the on position. Nikki turned up as we were leaving the house, and joined us too. It was going to be girls against boys so there was a fair bit of good natured sex against sex rivalry.

  My girls and I were going to bat first.

  Time to show Heath there was a little more to me than cashmere and pearls.

  * * * * *

  HEATH

  It was guys versus girls. Nothing like a little friendly battle of the sexes. Losers would shout dinner.

  Privately, Harlow and I had our own bet. If she scored more runs than me, I would cook her dinner. The works. Three courses. Apparently the girl liked food.

  If I scored more runs than her, I would still cook her dinner. But she would have to spend the night with me.

  Not in that way.

  I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could bet my way into her libido.

  But the idea of falling asleep with her in my bed … just having the warmth of her next to me, I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. Fantasized about it. And not with my hand on it. I just wanted to feel her in my bed and wake up next to her.

  Surprisingly, she had agreed to the bet. Which was exciting, because there was no way she was going to win. After all, I’d gone to college on a baseball scholarship.

  “This is your last chance,” she whispered in my ear as we made our way towards the field.

  “For what? For me to back out?” I scoffed. “Like I told you when I met you … I play hard.”

  Harlow suddenly grabbed me by the crotch, surprising the hell out of me.

  “Hmmm, that’s yet be seen.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously across at mine. She smiled and swung the bat over her shoulder as she walked off. “See you on the field.”

  Fuck me. This was a side to her I’d never seen. Sassy. Assertive. Ba
llsy. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d probably be worried about losing the bet.

  She was just trying to put me off my game. Psyche me out. I wasn’t blind. But hey, if that involved her putting her hands on me—especially there—then that was just fine by me.

  “I dunno dude, you got much riding on this game?” Armie asked. He was wearing a pair of ladies oversized sunglasses and a cigarette was hanging off his lip. Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio he wasn’t. “She looks like she knows her way around that bat.”

  We both watched her walk over to the home plate.

  “Yeah, well, she hasn’t had to face my fastball.” I said.

  Armie didn’t look convinced and took his rock star butt over to right field. He threw a kiss to Kelsey on the batting bench, pitching it like a baseball and almost falling over in the process.

  Harlow was first up to bat. She had pulled her long hair into a high ponytail and looked fucking amazing wearing one of my Dodger’s caps.

  In high school and college I was pitcher. I would spend hours practicing and had pretty much perfected my fastball. It would be unkind to unload that on her, especially since she probably had no real idea how to play. The chances Harlow had played high school baseball were slim, and she had probably only handled a bat once or twice in her life.

  Although, her stance over the home plate was pretty good.

  “I promise I’ll be gentle,” I said to her.

  She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Don’t hold back on my account, Heath. Give me everything you’ve got.”

  Damn. Did she have to say shit like that to me? My brain interpreted it in so many different ways and none of them had anything to do with baseball.

  I thought for a moment then without hesitation pitched it to her with all I had.

  To say Harlow knew how to play would be an understatement, and in the next few seconds she pretty much dashed my hopes for winning our bet. She swung that bat like Babe Ruth and smashed the ball right out to left field. I didn’t see where or who it went to because I was left standing there, mouth gaping, as I watched her take off to first base. Then second. Then third. When she slid into home, I was so turned on I just wanted to take her home and spend the rest of the afternoon learning what other talents she had.