by Megan Green
“I get the feeling she’s not much of a sports fan. And I’m not sure why, but something also tells me she sort of has been living under a rock for a while. She’s very closed off. Doesn’t like to talk about herself. Hell, when I first went over there yesterday, she treated me like the scum of the earth.”
“And you’ve recently developed a penchant for being treated like dirt?”
“Of course not. But, B, there’s something about her. And, by the end of the evening, she dropped her guard and let me see her for a little while. And I like the real her a whole hell of a lot.”
“But what’s she hiding? What’s the point of her acting like a bitch if that’s not who she really is?”
“I dunno, B. But I want to find out.”
Brandon blows out a long sigh. “I don’t know, man. If this was about you getting your dick wet, I’d be all for it. And I am glad you’re feeling better. But you sound different. You sound…interested in this girl. And I worry about that.”
“You’re worried that I might actually grow up at some point, want to stop fucking around, and settle down?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I know this player lifestyle isn’t permanent for you. You’ve always been a bit more…committed than me. Even when you’re playing the field. But you don’t really know this chick. And you already sound like you’re thinking more long-term.”
I let out a laugh. “B, trust me, I’m not looking to marry her. Like you said, I barely know her. She intrigues me. She’s someone I want to get to know. That doesn’t mean I’m going to profess my undying love and start ring shopping anytime soon. Fuck, once I’m finally able to crack through her shell, she probably won’t even be half of what I’ve built up in my head. But I feel like I’ll regret it if I don’t at least try.”
“Well, it sounds like your mind is already made up then. Just promise me, you’ll be careful. I’ll vouch for you with Coach and Ray. I’ll make sure they don’t think anything is up, so they don’t flip their shit. But only if you promise you’ll watch your back. If there’s any sign this girl might be trouble, you get your ass out of there, okay?”
“Promise. First sign of danger, and I’ll be on the next flight home.”
“Good. Don’t make me regret doing this, asshole. Coach will string my ass up from the scoreboard if he finds out I helped you cover this up. She’d better be worth it.”
I thank him again, not giving voice to the thought running through my head.
I’m one hundred percent certain she is.
Chapter 8
Lexi
There’s a bite in the air today that wasn’t here when I arrived last week, reminding me that fall is in full effect in Maple Lake. As if I could forget, the vibrant fall colors expand almost as far as my eye can see. Despite the bite to the air, it’s a beautiful day to be outdoors, which is a good thing, considering I’ve got quite the walk ahead of me today.
The small hardware store in town—the one that acts as the town’s grocery/convenience store as well—only has a limited selection of paint available. And none of the colors spoke to me for my living room. Fortunately, the town of Grover is only about fifteen miles away, and they have a full-blown Home Depot. Unfortunately, I don’t have a car. Fifteen miles is a hell of a lot longer walk than drive.
Ella would be furious if she knew I was walking all this way. But she’s recently returned to work after having the twins, and as much as I know she’d be willing to drive me, I know she’d hate the idea of having to take off work. And I’m too damn impatient to wait for the weekend.
I figure I can grab a few gallons and get a decent start. Then, when Saturday rolls around, I’ll have Ells drive me back, so I can get the rest.
Besides, the fresh air will do me good. I’ve been cooped up in that house for far too many hours.
Twenty minutes into my walk, however, and I’m already starting to rethink this decision. The sun might be shining, but that doesn’t take away the chill that has settled into my nose and cheeks. I bury my hands deeper in my pockets, shrugging my shoulders up around my head to try to get some of the heat radiating off my midsection to my frozen face.
It doesn’t work.
I’m too determined to turn around though. And, after a quick look around to ensure nobody is in my immediate vicinity, I do something I haven’t done since I was probably eight years old.
I start skipping.
My arms swing wide as I try to warm up my body, my knees coming almost to my chest with every movement. I know I must look ridiculous, but it seems to be helping.
Deciding I might as well go all in, I start chanting my favorite nursery rhyme as I go.
“I’m a little teapot, short and stout,
“Here is my handle, here is my spout.”
I put one hand on my hip for the handle and curl my other arm into my best impression of a spout, skipping along the street the entire time. Hey, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.
“When I get all steamed up, hear me shout,
“Tip me over, and pour me out.”
I stop for a moment, bending over to the right, spilling my imaginary tea all over the road.
I giggle at the absurdity of my actions. But it doesn’t stop me from doing it again.
I’m in the middle of my third rotation when I hear it.
The sound of an engine.
Right. Behind. Me.
I was so caught up in my little song and dance, I didn’t even hear the vehicle approaching.
And the fact that it’s now slowly crawling along behind me instead of flying past me makes me think the person inside must know me.
That means, it’s one of three people.
Charlie, Liv, or…
The sound of the horn causes me to turn around, coming face-to-bumper with a red Ford pickup. The glare from the sun off the windshield prevents me from seeing who’s inside. But I’m pretty sure I already know.
The fancy red truck doesn’t look like something Charlie or Liv would drive. At all.
That leaves…
The driver puts the truck in park and climbs down.
Ian.
Fuck my life.
“How much of that did you see?” I say by way of greeting.
The cheeky smile he gives me is all I need to know.
“Enough,” he says simply, amusement alighting his eyes. “You’re quite the little dancer,” he teases.
I groan, dropping my eyes down to the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole.
I grunt out an excuse about trying to keep warm, refusing to lift my gaze back to his.
“What are you doing all the way out here anyway?” he asks, as if it just now occurred to him that we’re in the middle of nowhere.
“I was going to Grover.”
He doesn’t respond, and his silence has me curious enough that I finally lift my eyes. But the look I find on his face has me wishing I had kept up my staring contest with the ground.
“You were going to walk all the way to Grover? Isn’t that, like, ten miles away?”
“Fifteen,” I correct and realize that doesn’t help me look any less foolish.
He shakes his head. “You’d never make it before dark. And how were you planning on getting back?”
I give him a sheepish look. “The same way I got there.”
Ian mumbles something under his breath, his hand coming up to wipe across his eyebrow. He seems to debate on something for a moment, and then, without another word, he turns and walks back to his truck. But, instead of climbing into the driver’s side, he moves around the passenger side and opens the door.
“Get in,” he says, nodding his head toward the waiting seat.
My mouth falls open, his authoritative tone kicking my sassy side into full gear. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? You can’t order me into your vehicle.”
His head falls forward on his neck, and I swear, I hear him mumble something about stubborn women. I’m about to
show him how stubborn I can be when he lifts his eyes back to mine. They’re softer now, though I can still see a little of the assertiveness I saw there when he told me to get in his truck.
“Lexi, will you please let me give you a ride into town? There’s no way you’ll make it before the sun goes down. And I’d rather not have the death of my new neighbor weighing on my conscience. Even if you don’t freeze, who knows what sort of wild animals might be waiting in the wings.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. I didn’t even consider the animals before I set out. I’ve seen my share of deer and other benign forest creatures since I’ve been in Maple Lake. But it’s never occurred to me that there might be something a little more…carnivorous out here.
“Fine,” I say and stomp over toward the truck.
I might be appreciative of the ride so that I don’t become something’s dinner, but he doesn’t need to know that.
The other night was a huge mistake. I let Ian get way too close for comfort and actually let myself think about the possibility of more. Maybe not with him. But I opened up a door I’d thought long since closed.
Deep down, I know I’m being irrational. I know that I paid the price for my mistake, and Lord knows, I’ve learned from it. But knowing something and actually forgiving yourself are two entirely different things.
I almost killed someone. Two someones.
In what world is it fair that I get to move on and live my life when someone else’s is forever altered?
Not in mine.
So, despite the fact that Ian is charming and handsome and that I enjoy the hell out of his company, there’s no way I can let what happened the other night become a regular occurrence. And the only way I can prevent that is by closing him off.
Completely.
I buckle my seat belt as he walks around the truck to the driver’s side. He climbs inside, putting the car in drive without saying another word.
We ride in silence for about ten minutes. When we pass a sign indicating Grover is only a mile away, Ian finally glances at me and asks where I’m headed.
“The hardware store. I need to get some paint.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “You were planning on hauling paint all the way back to Maple Lake on foot?”
I shrug. “I figured I’d grab what I could carry for now and have my sister bring me back this weekend.”
He chuckles under his breath, the tension from earlier seemingly broken. “You are determined; I’ll give you that.”
The way he says it makes it sound like more of a compliment than a criticism, so I smile. “Damn straight. Never stand in the way of a woman and her home improvement projects.”
He shoots me a dazzling grin, the dimples in his cheeks even more pronounced than usual. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so different than the women I’m used to.”
Before I can ask what that means, he pulls into the parking lot of Home Depot and kills the engine. “You need some help?”
I shake my head out of instinct. I’ve always been extremely independent, even back before the accident and I’ve never been one to readily accept help.
But, as I turn and look at him, I quickly find myself changing my mind. It would be nice to have a second opinion on colors. And, now that I don’t have to walk back home, I might as well get all the paint I need so I don’t have to inconvenience Ella this weekend.
“Sure,” I say, giving him a small smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate another set of eyes and hands.”
He quickly climbs out of the truck, like he doesn’t want to give me the chance to change my mind.
Two hours later, the back of his truck is full of paint, brushes, drop cloths, and everything else I could possibly need to paint my entire house. Once I got started on choosing colors for the living room, I couldn’t seem to stop. My bank account is now about a thousand dollars lighter, but I couldn’t be happier with the choices I made for my new home.
Ian helps me unload it all when we get back to my place. I have to admit; the whole process goes a lot faster with someone who can lift more than one five-gallon drum at a time. It would’ve taken Ella and me at least twice as long to load and unload the truck.
Ian lingers for a moment after he finishes carrying in the last load, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he surveys my new mountain of paint supplies. “That ought to keep you busy for a while.”
I smile at him from across the room. “Thanks for your help. You’re a lifesaver. I’m sure Ella would thank you, too, if she were here. She hates going shopping with me.”
The corners of his lips pull up into a sarcastic smile. “With you? I can’t imagine why. I mean, it’s totally normal to have to look at each and every single type of paintbrush—in detail, might I add—before finally purchasing the first one you picked up.”
I giggle. “Hey, I want to make sure I’m getting the best bang for my buck. Besides, not all paintbrushes are created equal. Brush lines are a bitch.”
His smile changes, a flash of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “You’re not at all what I expected, Lexi.”
Before his words register, he’s in front of me, his body only inches from mine instead of the minimum five feet I’ve been trying to keep between us all evening.
I swallow hard, leaning back against the wall behind me to try to create a little space between us. He doesn’t press, his eyes raking over my face before he gives me a crooked smile. He lifts his hand to my face, his index finger running softly down the line of my nose.
“See you tomorrow, Lexi.”
He’s out the door before I can even protest.
Chapter 9
Tag
I’ve always been a morning person.
I’m that annoying guy you see in movies who bounds out of bed before his alarm, ready to take on the day, a spring in his step as he sips his cup of coffee and gets ready for work. To tell you the truth, I’ve never understood people who hate mornings.
Until today.
I’ve been up since four, biding my time. I ran my three miles, had about six cups of coffee, read every stupid article I could find about me on my phone, and resorted to playing some ridiculous game with little pieces of candy I had to match. I’ve never been so bored in my life.
I have no idea what time Lexi normally gets up in the morning, but I don’t want to give her a chance to get too far into painting without me. If I show up too late, she’ll tell me she’s got it covered and turn me away. But, if I show up too early, I risk pissing her off by waking her up.
I curse under my breath as the screen tells me I’m out of moves once again. Setting down the phone, I glance at the clock and see that it’s finally eight. Thinking back to that morning on her back dock, I remember that she was up and having coffee well before eight. Surely, this is as good a time as any, right?
I grab my ball cap from the counter and make my way toward the front door. Straightening it over my messy hair, I briefly wonder if it’s a bad idea to wear a Rampage hat when I’m trying to fly under the radar. Will it tip her off?
I stop in front of the mirror in the entryway, giving myself a final once-over. My ratty T-shirt and ripped jeans—I might have ripped a hole in the knee this morning just to give the appearance of owning work clothes—certainly don’t scream baseball star. And, come on, I see more Rampage hats in the stands than I do on the field. It’s not unusual for a man to wear swag for his favorite team. Mine happens to be the one I play for.
I shrug, deciding to go with it. If she somehow manages to put two and two together, then that’s how it goes. I’m enjoying the anonymity, but I don’t intend to lie to Lexi forever. Especially if things turn out the way I’m hoping.
After finding Lexi skipping down the highway and then watching her enthusiasm as she meticulously chose each and every item she purchased yesterday, I can’t deny that the woman fascinates me. She is such an enigma, going from cold and closed off to open and bubbly, seemingly wit
hin minutes. The glimpses I’ve seen of the softer side of Lexi make me think there is more to her than she lets on. She tries to put up a hard front, but deep down, I can tell it’s an act. One I desperately want to break through.
I step out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me. I don’t bother locking it.
Striding across my lawn, I consider my options.
I can turn on the charm I’m famous for, hoping she’ll eventually cave and let me in.
Or I can let her see the real me. The Ian Taggart I like to keep hidden from cameras and reporters. The Ian Taggart who’s not quite as sure of himself as he pretends to be. The Ian Taggart who’s a bit of a socially awkward dork when it boils down to it. The Ian Taggart I’ve buried so far down underneath the facade I present to the rest of the world that I’m not entirely sure he can rise back to the surface.
Something tells me Lexi would greatly prefer that Ian Taggart. The Ian who’s not so full of himself and who constantly doubts everything he’s ever done, just waiting for the day people realize he’s not all he’s cracked up to be.
Well, fuck. Now, I’m depressed.
But it’s true. Underneath all the pomp and circumstance, I really am an average guy. And I want Lexi to get to know the real side of me before she gets to know the baseball player.
When my fist finally makes contact with her door, my mind is made up. I’m going to let this happen naturally. I’m not going to try to sweep her off her feet and lay it on so thick, she has to use a knife to cut through my bullshit.
Lexi is going to get the real Ian “Tag” Taggart. And, if she doesn’t like what she sees, then…
Well, I’ll think about that later.
The door swings wide only seconds after I knock, Lexi’s brows pulling together when she finds me standing here. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, so at least that’s a good sign that I haven’t woken her.
“Ian. Do you need something?”
Just to see your pretty face.
The line comes to mind so easily, I almost spit it out. It’s what I would say to any other woman whose door I was knocking on first thing in the morning. And, while it’s true—I thought about her beautiful, full lips and sweet, kind eyes all last night—it’s not the only reason I’m here. I decide to go for something a little less forthright.