by Dani Collins
“Seen him around.” The men shook hands and Stan introduced Holly, then Coralee.
“We saw you at Auntie Skye’s when we came to get the canning jars,” Coralee said to Chase.
“You did,” Chase agreed smoothly.
“Fixing her modem, I believe,” Holly said with her most sickeningly sweet smile. “I guess that’s what we’re calling it these days?”
The silence was awful, but Skye suspected the reaction between the speechless adults would have been hysterical to someone watching them. Holly pinned a triumphant look on Skye, one that made Skye’s face sting with a flush of mortification, but then Holly caught her husband’s eye and her gaze widened with shame. Stan shot a look of deep regret at Flynn, but Flynn was staring at Chase, dumbfounded.
Chase, meanwhile, gave Holly a hard stare that said, Do you know how hard I throw? I can aim wherever I want.
She paled and had to slink around behind her horse to hide from him.
Poor batters, Skye thought as she handed off Pancake’s bridle to Coralee.
“I’ll put the horses away, Holl. Go tell Mom we have two more for dinner,” Stan said with a hard note in his voice.
It was a mind-your-manners set down, one Skye appreciated, but Chase didn’t have to stick around for a dinner full of awkwardness. Flynn looked like he wanted to step into a sci-fi machine and transport to another planet.
Chase just said an affable, “Thanks. They’re not expecting us at home until late anyway,” and she tripped a little more in love with him for being so easy-going.
The conversation shifted to horse talk. Coralee couldn’t believe neither of their guests had been on a horse, ever. When Chase asked what they could do to help, Stan and Skye said in unison, “Stay out of the way.”
“Besides,” Skye added. “You might hurt your shoulder.”
That prompted Stan to ask after the injury.
Chase explained it wasn’t his throwing arm. He had fallen on it after diving to catch a line drive. “The worst of the pain’s gone, but it’s getting that hand over my head,” Chase explained, demonstrating his pitch in slow motion. “I can do it, but it acts up when I push it. Things go wild.”
“He almost broke the neighbor’s window the other day,” Flynn supplied. “So embarrassing.”
“Only if you keep telling people,” Chase shot back, both of them wearing the Goodwin grin that made Skye’s heart swoop and soar.
“You’re in town until you’re fully healed?” Stan asked.
Skye heard the underlying query. How long are you planning to fool around with my sister?
Skye caught Chase’s gaze as he replied, “My plan was to stay through Homecoming, but things are in the air. I have to fly out for an assessment this week.”
“In L.A.,” Skye said, taking refuge in watching Coralee where the girl brushed Pancake’s drying side. “I’m going with him.”
Boom. News detonated. No more hiding in the closet.
Except she kind of stayed behind Pancake in the stall, not quite slinking, but little better than Holly at that moment.
“What’s El-aye?” Coralee asked, bless her.
“Los Angeles. It’s in California,” Skye explained.
“Where Uncle Terry moved to?”
“He’s in San Francisco. That’s a different city so I won’t see him, but yes, they’re both in California.”
They finished up with the horses and headed into the house, Stan quizzing Flynn on his post-secondary aspirations and the football team’s prospects while Coralee skipped ahead and Chase lagged behind with Skye.
“Thanks,” he said ruefully.
“Sorry.” She eyed him sheepishly. “Did he look like he wanted his shotgun?”
“Little bit. So did Flynn.”
“Really? He doesn’t approve of me?”
“The opposite, actually.” His face lifted, taking on a kind of rueful pride. “You know the other day when that kid tried to get another clip of us on his phone? The rest of the team got all over him for it after you left. ‘Mrs. Baynard’s nice,’ they said. Which is very true,” he confirmed, tilting a possessive look at her. “But I was still impressed by how many came to your defense.”
“Peer pressure, when it’s directed well, can be a good thing I guess,” she said, blushing a little.
“It’s not just that. I know that’s why you love this place so much, Skye. To be honest, this visit has been great for me, too. Yeah, there was a bit of autographing at first, but people don’t care about that so much as what my brother is planning and how my father is doing. Real stuff. If I hadn’t grown up here, I’d think they were being nosy, wanting to sell it to a magazine or something, but they feel like it’s their business to know because this community is like a family. It’s nice.”
“It is,” she agreed, nodding, heartened that he understood, but as they paused on the stoop, she realized that didn’t make their decisions easier. Just because he appreciated why she loved Marietta didn’t mean his career could be put on hold so he could settle in with her and start the family she’d wanted years ago.
“Skye?” Her mother leaned into the open back door. “What’s this I hear about you going to L.A.?”
Chapter Nine
‡
Holding Skye’s hand through the airport, Chase had one thought: he wanted to put a ring on it. He reminded himself they were still trying things out, that being on the road lost its glamor pretty fast and Skye was a homebody at heart, but he was so damned proud to have her at his side it was button-busting.
She had her Alice In Wonderland look firmly in place as she followed where he led, tugging her away from the autograph seekers as quickly as he could, into a limo and across the insanity that was midday traffic in L.A. In the elevator to his apartment, she goggled at the view through the glass wall. When they entered his condo, which was not the penthouse but a damned nice piece of real estate all the same, she walked without a word from the spacious living, dining, kitchen area out the glass doors to the pool and patio, gazed at the ocean, then went into the master bedroom and came back past the two guest rooms, one for Flynn, one for weights.
“This is incredible,” she finally said, sounding intimidated despite the fact she lived in a very nice place herself. “How does it feel to be so rich and famous?”
“I don’t feel rich or famous,” he dismissed, hooking an arm around her waist to pull her nervously twitching body close. He was too practical to think about his bank balance or popularity in those terms. It was always about security for himself and his family, setting a good example for Flynn and boys like him, keeping the team’s morale where it needed to be. Not doing anything stupid and blowing his chances.
“Don’t be modest along with everything else, Chase Goodwin. It makes you too much the perfect package.”
“Are you calling me irresistible? I’ll take it.” He loved the way her lashes fluttered with shy confusion as her body softened with acceptance of his. Sexual heat was charging in him, fueled by the possessive excitement of having her in his home. He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if she hated being here. Everything in him wanted to cement her presence here for all time.
Some of his aggressive need might have flavored his first kiss. She drew back briefly, a question in her eyes. Then she lifted her mouth to his, letting him crush her lips, offering herself up for what he needed. That was why he really needed her in his life, no matter which kind of world they occupied. She met him halfway and it was more than erotic. It was heart-moving.
Which helped him remember to be gentle with her, despite the pulse of ravenous need that burst in him. She was strong and sexual, but slender and feminine. Easily bruised. He stopped just short of leaving a love-bite on her neck, palms so enamored with the firm curve of her ass, he couldn’t find the will to pull away and undress her.
She rubbed herself against his erection, inciting him, a little sob telling him she was growing as anxious as him and just as fast. Dear Lord, they were
right for each other, breaths humid and hot, bodies trying to occupy each other’s space.
He was stronger, of course, and backed her into the sofa, nudging her to balance against its back. He allowed enough space between them to do what he’d been wanting to all day and opened her wrap dress, then pushed between her legs, almost busting his fly when he saw the damp of her ivory panties.
He’d licked her out the other day and she’d loved it. He wanted to do it again, but he wanted inside her at the same time. He jerked his pants open, wanting the heat, wanting to fill her and lose it.
A distant voice said, Condom, but he shook it off, baring himself so he could rub against satin and softness. She tongued into his mouth and he scooped a breast out of her bra cup, loving the feel of her hard nipple scraping his palm. His scalp tightened as they rubbed and fondled, her heels behind his thighs, urging him on.
Get the condom, fool. But it was miles away, in his bag by the door. He didn’t want to leave her for a heartbeat. Rather, with this lack of firm commitment between them, the opposite imperative was riding him. Put a baby in her. Tie her to him in a way that couldn’t be broken. She had so much love to give. It would strengthen their foundation and they’d last forever.
And it would be cheating to do that to her.
With a curse, he locked his arms firmly around her, holding her tight to the place where his heart slammed with primitive determination.
“Like a pair of damned teenagers,” he said, hearing the growl of maturity and male demand in his voice. “Your brother really will have to get the shotgun if I don’t start showing some control.” He nuzzled his lips against her hair, fairly quivering with the effort to restrain himself from biting and devouring.
When she lifted her head, there wasn’t a shred of concern in her expression. More like, Okay. Her lashes were heavy, her skin flushed with arousal. She licked her lips and stared at his mouth as if it was her salvation.
He groaned and kissed her hard, punishing her a little for putting it all on him, but she gave back as good as she got, nearly upending all his good intentions.
“You know what you are, Skye Wolcott?” he accused when they came up for air and he pulled her to her feet. “Dangerous.”
She gave a throaty laugh. “Really?” Throwing off her dress, she walked toward the bedroom with hips swinging, wearing only her bra, panties, and high-heeled sandals. The way she pulled off her headband and threw it down was both invitation and dare. Shooting him a look over her shoulder, she said, “You jocks are adrenaline junkies, aren’t you? What are you complaining about?”
He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. In fact, right this second, he was excited to take a risk. Wanted to throw away consequence and take a fast, reckless joy ride.
He managed to snag the handle of his bag before he followed her, though, and fumbled protection onto himself before he joined her on the bed.
*
Sitting by the pool late the next morning, Skye fairly purred. After all the attention Chase had shown her since they’d begun sleeping together, her confidence as a woman was pretty high, but she had still appreciated his insatiable appetite last night. She’d loved how close he’d come to losing control, more than once, but she was aware of a wistful yearning today. A light wish that he had lost control completely and started a baby in her.
She wasn’t that girl, though. Locking a man into marriage with a pregnancy was the last thing she’d ever plot to do, but she’d seen him with the teenagers and watched him with her nieces the other day. He was awesome with kids. They’d all gone outside after dinner to play baseball with the girls’ plastic bat and ball. The bases had been the raspberry patch, the apple tree and the corner of the garden. The dog dish had been home plate. The picture of him picking up her baby niece and carrying her in a race after Stan, so she could tag him, had been priceless.
The way they’d made love last night, so utterly wrapped up and devoted to each other, would have been the perfect time to conceive a baby.
But perhaps not the best time in their lives or their relationship.
Still. She sighed, aware they had more to think about and talk about before big decisions like that were made.
He had left while she slept, leaving a text promising to meet her after lunch. She’d had a light brunch of scrambled eggs and toast, brewed some coffee, and now she was sipping it, romance novel cued on her tablet, coconut-scented sunscreen tingling on her skin. If this was the way an athlete’s wife spent her time, she could get used to it.
Her phone released the crack of a bat and a roar of applause—the ringtone she’d downloaded for his texts and calls. Picking it up, she glanced at the screen.
They want to trade me. Will be tied up for the afternoon.
Her heart stopped. She didn’t know what that meant. Was it good news? Bad? How was he feeling? How should she? Was it because of his injury?
Was it because of her?
That was her first question when the alarm system buzzed with his entry. By then she’d watched the desk jockies on the sports channel discuss what the two teams would gain and lose if the trade went through.
She stood from the sofa and tried to decipher his stiff expression. “It wasn’t because of that stupid explosion of mine, was it?”
Surprise flickered across his face. “No.” He frowned a small scold. “Of course not. That’s old news. No, this was about me being out and my team not making the playoffs. They want to make some serious changes for next year. I was called in for assessment so the new team knows I’ll be solid by spring training. They were looking like a shoo-in to the series at the beginning of this one, but only wound up playing post-season because the rest of the field was compensating for their pitcher. He’s hit a bad streak.” He shrugged. “It happens, but they want options next year.”
“How did the assessment go?”
“Good. I actually chucked a few good ones. Not as fast as we’d all like, but close enough.”
She linked her hands before her, made uncertain by the remoteness in his demeanor.
“You must have been shocked,” she hazarded, trying to draw him out.
“I was. Am.” He ran a hand down his face. “All I could think was, Wrong side of the country. I have veto rights, Skye.”
It took a moment for the realization to sink in that he was asking her to weigh in. He was worried about what this meant for her. Them.
“But you’re saying you have a chance to play with a team that has a really good chance in the playoffs. That’s like… You could go to the World Series, Chase.”
He nod-shrugged.
Her stomach bottomed out. She swallowed, then acted on instinct and went across to him, pleased when his arms came around her as she crashed herself into him.
“We’ll figure it out,” she promised. They had to. She had to, if she meant that much to him. “I can’t hold you back from that.”
He hugged her tight. Some of the tension left his hard back. The light stubble coming in on his chin caught her hair as he rubbed his jaw against her temple. “Sure? ‘Cause it means a red-eye tonight. They want me out there tomorrow.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“Of course. Will you?”
She had the rest of the week off, but… “I only packed for two nights.”
They both chuckled at the absurdity of her argument.
“I don’t know how to be a jet-setter!” she argued.
She learned pretty quickly though, landing bleary eyed the next morning, too early to get into the hotel and finish sleeping.
“They want me at batting practice, meet the guys, all that. Will you do me a favor?” Chase asked her in the limo. “They hooked me up with a property agent.” He waggled his phone. “Will you look at whatever she shows you? See what you think?”
Half-convinced she was dreaming and would wake in her bed on Copper Mountain any minute, she agreed.
And even though it killed a few hours while she waited to check in, she fou
nd it overwhelming. The woman’s questions drove home for her that she didn’t know all that much about what Chase liked or disliked. The heavy traffic and skyscrapers were pure culture shock and she grew more and more turned around and confused as the day wore on. She earmarked one as promising for its media room and proximity to the ball field, just so the woman would take her back to the hotel for a nap.
Chase woke her, spooning in behind her.
“Hi,” she said sleepily. “How’d it go?”
“Good. I set the alarm on my phone. We have to go out later. One of the guys is having everyone over. Meet and greet.” The last was said on a yawn. His arm settled heavily across her waist as he drifted into sleep.
She came awake just as quickly, injected with nerves and questions. Which guys? What kind of everyone? Another big reservation loomed. He had his own community and she didn’t know if she would fit into it any better than she knew what he looked for in a living space.
By the time she’d showered and dried her hair, he was sitting on the side of the bed, looking groggy.
“What do I wear?” she asked anxiously. Her wrap dress seemed too casual. “Should I go down to the lobby? See what the shops have?”
“He said barbeque and bring a bathing suit if we want to swim. Jeans should be fine.”
She wore heels with hers and put on her big hoop earrings, leaving her hair loose. “Okay?” she asked when she was ready.
He wore a blue button shirt over blue jeans and sneakers and nodded approval at her sheer yellow peasant top over a white cami. “You look nice.”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted in the car. “Are you?”
“I was this morning,” he said, playing with her fingers where he’d drawn her hand to rest on his thigh. “First day at a new job is always the worst, right? But you shouldn’t be.”
“I’ve only had one job,” she confessed, but didn’t mention that she felt like this casual dinner was a kind of interview. Would she be accepted for even an entry level position as Chase Goodwin’s spouse?