All in all, it was a good day.
“Hey, Ambrose,” Rodriguez said, jogging to him. “You’re coming out tonight, right?”
The rest of the team joined them, pounding on each other’s backs and shouting as they celebrated.
He grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
*
That night, Heath met his teammates at their usual watering hole in Greenville. The dance floor was crowded with out-of-town players, sorority girls, hangers-on, and WAGS.
Plenty of opportunities to hook up if he wanted—only he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted to do tonight. It hadn’t been what he wanted to do in a long time.
Taking a pull of his beer, he attempted to listen to a guy from the other team talk, but the thumping bass made it damn near impossible. A cute blonde from across the way with all the right assets caught his eye.
She smiled.
He winked.
Wait. I thought you wanted to be alone tonight?
Was I supposed to ignore her?
It’s your body, you can do whatever.
Good talk.
The woman’s smile turned positively seductive as she sashayed over to him, leaning in close. “Hi. I’m Lindsay.”
“Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Heath.”
Squeezing his hand, she said, “I know. I follow all your games. I’m a huge fan. Been trying to get Walden to introduce us, but he’s such a forgetful thing.”
Walden was a manwhore who took advantage of every woman over eighteen that offered to shine his balls.
“The two of you seeing each other?” Personally, he didn’t go out with women other players dated. Not even if it was a casual thing. It wasn’t because he thought there was something wrong with those women. Based on his experience, that sort of thing usually caused bad blood and affected the game.
Lindsay placed a hand on his arm. “Not anymore. We’ve moved on. His goals have changed, so we’re not exactly what I call compatible anymore.”
Did your baseball bunny hop on over to a guy with a bigger basket?
Heath internally winced as Haven’s words infiltrated his head. Was he the one with the bigger basket? He knew Walden’s sign-on bonus was less than two years ago, but he wasn’t aware that it was public knowledge yet.
“That’s a shame. I’m sure he would have enjoyed spending time with you tonight,” Heath said, trying to convey he wasn’t interested. He wanted to be blunt with her, but as a public figure, his bluntness could be misconstrued as being an unfeeling asshole.
He never had to worry about Haven misconstruing anything he said. He could be blunt as a sledgehammer, and she’d find a way to twist his words to her advantage.
Wait. Why was she popping up in his thoughts again? Usually, Haven was the furthest thing from his mind. Then again, he’d just seen her two weeks earlier. But now that it was officially off-season, he planned to board a plane for a tropical island so he could work on his surfing skills. His brain wouldn’t have time to think of Haven’s sharp tongue and skewering words.
Or the way she’d been so sweet to his mother.
He internally groaned. His one weakness—family. If he didn’t know for a fact that Haven—for reasons known only to God—didn’t like him, that simple act would have made him pursue her like crazy.
Even if she reminded him of the one woman who got away. Well, not in looks—just by association. The woman he loved was one of Haven’s closest friends, but she’d gotten married to a Scottish duke and moved. Actually, Bella had moved on from him a long time ago. He’d been the one who had stayed stuck, hoping for the chance to try again, to make things up to her.
He had to stop thinking about that. Years had passed.
Move on, Ambrose.
Lindsay’s throaty laugh caught his attention. “I don’t think so.” She pointed to the left, where Walden was having his tonsils inspected by a redhead. “Looks like he’s enjoying himself without me.”
Instead of commenting, Heath took another drink and tried to think of the best way to extricate himself from the situation.
“It’s really okay,” Lindsay said, leaning in even closer. Her breasts were practically smashed against his chest and his body liked it, but his brain just wasn’t into it. “I’m not mad or on the rebound. I’m just looking for a good time.”
It was a damn shame he had no interest in her. Or anyone else in this bar. A good time should be all he was looking for, too, but it simply wasn’t anymore.
Heath spotted Rodriguez at the bar, completely alone for once, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. “I know a guy who’s looking for a good time, too.”
Her expression turned hopeful. “Oh yeah, I’m ready to leave when you are.”
“Let’s go say hello to my friend.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bar.
“Two of you,” she purred. “I’m down with that.”
“Rodriguez,” he all but shouted. The guy turned, his gaze immediately going to Lindsay. His eyes widened in appreciation. “This is Lindsay. Lindsay, this is Hector Rodriguez. He’s blowing up right now. You two have a lot in common.”
“S’up, girl?”
“Very nice to meet you,” Lindsay said. She turned to Heath, a questioning smile on her face. “Are we talking all night or…?”
Heath set his beer on the bar. “You and Rodriguez can do whatever you’d like, but I have to go.”
She pouted a little, but she wasn’t too torn up about him leaving because by the time he got to the entrance and glanced over his shoulder to check, her hand was on Rodriguez’s ass.
With a shake of his head and a smile, he headed outside. The humid, night air hit him, not giving him any relief from the heat that had sunk into his body from the club.
Giving the valet his ticket, he waited for his truck. For a minute, he regretted his decision to introduce Lindsay to Rodriguez. She was beautiful, up for a good time, and wouldn’t have demanded any more than that from him.
Then common sense returned, along with the valet driving his truck and parking it curbside. After tipping the guy and getting in, he let his mind drift to white sands, crystal blue water, and days of relaxation.
However, it kept returning to the people he cared about in Holland Springs—his parents in particular. Over the past few years, he hadn’t spent as much time home as he could have. His life wasn’t tied up in anything but baseball. The couple of long-term girlfriends he had were gone and now at twenty-eight, he was firmly in the I’m-too-old-to-party-but-I’m-not-dead camp.
There had to be a happy medium.
Instead of driving to his townhouse, he found himself on Highway Thirteen heading straight toward Holland Springs. In less than forty minutes, his truck was bumping down the familiar gravel road. As usual, the kitchen light was on.
He grinned.
A sense of ease settled into his bones. Yeah, he would stay here for a while and help his parents. Or just spend some time with them.
Vacations could wait. Besides, he could use a change of pace. Nothing exciting ever happened here. Everything stayed exactly as it should be.
Just the way he liked it.
Chapter Four
‡
He should have booked the first flight out of Greenville.
Nothing had changed in Holland Springs, and that included his mother’s matchmaking tendencies. She was bound and determined that every single one of her children should be in a serious relationship.
For the first two days, she had suckered him into accompanying her on errands into town and managed to introduce Heath to what had to be every available woman in Holland Springs under the age of fifty without actually accomplishing a single thing on her to-do list.
Now it was Saturday, and she was jumping at the bit to introduce him to the ladies at the Holland Springs Junior Garden club. The club was holding their monthly meeting at Chesson House.
So far, he hadn’t seen Haven once, but he had been introduced to the mayo
r’s college roommate’s aunt’s niece who had just moved here from Hendersonville. The woman was as interested in him as she was in the begonias on display. In other words, she’d been cajoled and guilted like he had been.
It was so obvious that it was painful.
Either his mother didn’t have a clue, or she was purposefully ignoring the pained looks. He was betting on the latter.
Leah smiled, taking him by the arm as she began to lead him over to a trio of women. “Have I intro—”
Oh shit. He couldn’t take another round of look at my handsome, successful, single son. “I think Dad’s calling.”
Her forehead furrowed. “I would have felt my phone buzz.”
“He’s calling on my phone.” He pretended to glance at his screen. “Missed his call. I’ll call him back. Might be important.” Before she could stop him, he kissed her cheek and gently extricated himself from her grasp before striding away. He headed to the front of the house, where there was nothing but cars and flowerbeds.
Hopefully, he could sit on the front porch and play Trivia Crack on his phone until his mother was ready to leave without being disturbed.
“Baseball emergency?” he heard Haven say.
So much for being undisturbed.
Stopping in his tracks, he turned and pocketed his phone. She sat in a double swing that hung from a side porch, a tabby cat in her lap. The shadows made her look mysterious. But there was no mistaking her pink hair and ruby-colored lips.
Today, she wore a short-sleeved, bright green sweater with a row of white buttons lined up down the center and hot pink pants that ended just below her knees.
“Actually, I was taking a break.”
She tsked. “I can’t believe you abandoned your poor momma to deal with those ladies.”
He bristled. “I didn’t.”
Haven stroked the cat and for a wild second or two, he wished he were the one in her lap. “Too much estrogen back there for a big, testosteroney guy like you to handle?”
“Testosteroney isn’t a word, brain girl.”
She visibly flinched. “It must be hard to live in a world in which women are allowed to read.”
Keeping a straight face, he said, “Well, since it’s legal and all, maybe you can pick one up about manners. I hear Emily Post is popular.”
The cat hissed and jumped off her lap.
Haven narrowed her eyes at him. “Great. You made Gotham angry.”
“Sounds like a job for Batman.”
A light-colored brow arched even as her luscious lips twitched. He knew she wanted to laugh, but her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it. “How long are you staying in Holland Springs?” she asked suddenly.
“Not sure.”
“Is all that matchmaking your momma’s attempting to do driving you crazy?”
She looked halfway sympathetic, so he answered honestly, “Yes, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Her intentions are good.”
Haven’s shrewd gaze seemed to assess him as she stood and walked into the light. The afternoon sun shone on her face, making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle.
“What if I told you that I could get Mrs. Ambrose off your back?”
She told him a lot of things, and most of the time, he had to check for the real meaning. “I can do that myself just by leaving town.”
“But that would hurt her feelings. I know she loves having you here.”
He had to concede the point to her. “I love being here, but I do not like being forced to meet every single woman in Holland Springs. Now she’s bringing in out-of-towners.”
She laughed, the sound making his heart turn over in his chest. He liked the sound of her laugh, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard it. Or at least a laugh that was with him and not at him.
“Bless your heart, Heath. If only you could find the right girl to get your momma off your back.” Her hand came around the newel post, fingernails tipped in the same pink color as her pants.
“At this point, I’d do just about anything,” he half-joked.
“I know a girl who could help you out, but you would have to return the favor.”
He had to hear who she had in mind. Taking a step closer to the porch, he tilted his head back slightly. “Who might that be?”
Haven’s gaze dropped away from his. “Me.”
With bated breath, Haven waited for his reply. Either he would laugh off her supposed joke or—
“Are you serious? You don’t even like me.”
“That’s why it would work.”
An incredulous look covered his handsome face. “We can’t go five minutes without fighting.”
“I wouldn’t say that we fight,” she said lightly.
“See, already disagreeing with me.”
“A disagreement is not the same as a fight.”
His lips flattened at her correction. “You have to be in a bad way to ask for my help,” he said, his blue-eyed gaze capturing hers. “What favor do you need?”
“For you to marry me so I can keep Chesson House.”
He didn’t laugh, which was a good thing because she probably would have thrown something at him. But he didn’t say a word either. And that was worse because she had no idea what he was thinking.
Contrary to his opinion of how she viewed him, she actually did think he had a brain. It wasn’t skills only that made him one of the best players on the Buccaneers and in the entire league. Oh, no. Skills weren’t everything. Skills might have gotten him there, but his brain kept him on top.
“Heath?” She had to know what he was thinking; it was the only way she could stay two steps ahead of him. They’d known each other for so long and had danced the same angry dance over the years that she knew how he would react before the words came out of his mouth. However, this was new territory.
“I don’t think that’s funny.”
Letting go of the newel post, she moved to the stairs and jogged down them, then walked right up to him. This close, she was reminded of how big and muscular he actually was. Not overly so, but just enough to get her blood pounding.
“Wasn’t trying to be funny,” she said, tipping up her chin. “I really do need your help.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Arms that were tan and well defined from years of playing ball.
She swallowed down a swoony sigh.
Usually, his nearness didn’t affect her like this. She wasn’t noticing his face, or eyes, or arms. And she most certainly wasn’t noticing the way the sleeves of his button-down shirt were carelessly shoved up his arms in the most enticing of ways.
“I promise I’m not joking. You can talk my lawyer, if you don’t believe me.”
Heath jerked his head toward the back. “Your lawyer is one of the women my mother introduced me to this afternoon.”
Haven felt her eyes go wide. “She’s certainly determined, isn’t she?”
“Yep.”
Taking a chance that her touch would throw him off balance, she carefully placed her hand on his arm, right at the spot where bare skin met cotton. His skin was hot and roughly smooth in that way men’s bodies were.
His muscles rippled, and she fought back a gasp. Successfully.
The corner of his mouth kicked up, like he just knew she’d barely contained herself.
Show off.
She didn’t say those words, but she wanted to. Badly. Only she knew if she did, that he’d tell her no, and spend a day or two more at the most before leaving. Then she wouldn’t have any other option but to sell.
An orange leaf glided down between them, landing partly on her hand and his arm. The wind picked up slightly, stirring the air between them.
It had been the warmest September on record, and the heat wave had carried into October. Usually, her breath would be coming out in white puffs and she’d be in jeans, not capris pants.
“I really do need you—your help,” she began, hoping against hope he believed her. “When my grandparents passe
d, they left the business in trust until I married. But if I were single by the time someone wanted to buy Chesson house, then I’d have to sell it.”
“Would our marriage be a secret?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
She made a face. “No. How else would your momma leave you—?” It hit her then. He didn’t mean a secret from anyone who lived here in Holland Springs. Her heart pinched. “You mean would I tell Bella?
He worried his bottom lip. “Yeah.”
“We could send her an invite, if you want.”
“Up to you.”
You are such a bad, bad liar, she thought sadly. He wanted Bella to see him moving on with his life. “I’ll invite them, but she probably won’t come since she’s on her honeymoon.”
His jaw hardened. “Bella’s married?”
She nodded. “She and Liam got married a couple of weeks ago—I thought you knew.”
His eyes closed briefly. He put on a smile, but not before she glimpsed the grim pain in his eyes. She didn’t know what to make of that at all.
“It wouldn’t be for long, if that’s a problem. I only need enough time to get the house in my name, and then we can go our separate ways.”
“We’ll get a divorce?”
She shrank back at little, not from him, but from the word. He made it sound so real. “But the two of us can sign a prenup—I don’t want your baseball earnings or anything you own.”
“You don’t want anything from me,” he said.
A shaky sigh left her. “Right.”
“Just my name.”
“Oh, not even that. Just the piece of paper filed with the clerk of—” She swallowed at the dark look on his face.
“Do you realize how emasculating your proposal is? How fucking awful it is to be told that you’re only worth a piece of paper?” He pulled away from her, shaking his head while his jaw worked.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s…” She looked away and then back at him again, for once allowing him to see the vulnerability she hid from the world. “I don’t want to sell Chesson House, Heath. It’s my home. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I need you to help me. You’re the only guy I can trust to keep his word.”
The Temporary Bride Page 3