So what if he didn’t know the names of every single member of One Direction? Or any of them? Or even if that was a band (he was pretty sure it was a band), or some kind of dance troupe, or some other sort of creative thing that he wasn’t aware of. The important thing was that he knew Mila had been devastated when they broke up.
It was her emotions that he cared about. What she loved, what she hated, what brought her joy, and what hurt her.
“I can’t believe you’re actually dating Alison Bartholomew. She’s my favorite Broadway star,” she said dramatically.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve been on one date.” He wanted to keep her expectations reasonable. He knew he should be giving the same advice to his own heart, because the minute that he’d heard the phrase “dating Alison” it had started beating a million miles a minute.
“So,” Mila continued conspiratorially, completely ignoring the word of caution he’d just given her, “when are you two seeing each other again?”
He looked down at her young, eager face. He saw the excitement and hope and vulnerability shining just behind her eyes. Just behind that thin veneer of cool that she was trying so hard to cultivate.
It was the first inkling he had that this whole thing could potentially go seriously wrong. That wasn’t what he wanted, of course, but a phone call in the middle of the night five years ago, one that changed his life and Mila’s forever, had taught him that life had very little regard for the way individual people wanted it to go.
There was every possibility that things would deteriorate horribly between him and Alison somehow. That she’d just disappear one day. That he’d get his heart broken. If he was going to be realistic, and when you have a child in your life who depended on you that was really the only way to be, he had to admit that based on statistics alone the relationship would probably flame out spectacularly one day. That could be tomorrow or it could be months or years down the road, but chances are it would happen.
Fuck.
He didn’t mind getting his own heart broken. Hell, it wasn’t ideal, but he was a grown man and he could take it. He’d survived worse than a broken heart.
But Mila? She was just a kid. He hadn’t thought about the fact that this whole thing would affect her, as well. If Alison waltzed out of their lives one day as abruptly and spectacularly as she’d waltzed in, his heart wouldn’t be the only one shattered into a million pieces. There was a fun and sassy thirteen-year-old that he was putting at a huge risk of getting her heart broken, as well. And as expert as he was at refurbishing things, hearts weren’t something you could fix with a hammer and wood glue.
Chapter 11
Alison glanced up at the kitchen wall clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. She took a deep breath and listened to the sound of the power tools coming from next door. It was already 11:30. Troy would only be there until noon. It was now or never.
Even as she stepped out onto her back porch and started the short trip across the grassy patch separating the two houses, she debated with herself over whether she was jumping the gun. Maybe she should just relax, let him make the next move.
But what if he was freaked out about the whole fan-selfie, recognized-in-public, minor-celebrity thing? What if he thought she was snooty or standoffish? She definitely didn’t want to reinforce that impression.
In the end, she came up with a plan.
She’d buy him a small gift. Nothing extravagant—that would actually work against the down-to-earth image she was doing her best to cultivate.
No, this needed to be something small and fun. Tongue in cheek, even. The more she thought about it, the more enthused she’d become about the prospect. If she could find something that would reference their short history, emphasize some kind of inside joke between them.
She’d set off early this morning and scoured every shop in downtown Valentine Bay, looking for the perfect thing. Every time a clerk asked if they could be of any assistance, she said the same thing—she had no idea what she was looking for, but she’d know it when she saw it.
Then, finally, she’d seen it, and where else? At Ella’s shop, Everything Ella. She made a mental note to just start all future shopping trips there and save herself time.
Now, gift in hand, she stepped through the plastic tarp that covered the front door, and, giving herself a sense of déjà vu, called, “Hello? Anyone here?”
The banging that reverberated through the house stopped abruptly, and Troy rounded the corner, replacing a hammer in the loop on his toolbelt. The wide smile on his face sent a wave of relief flooding through her, the sensation as sweet as honey. That was not the face of a man who thought she was snooty or standoffish. That was the face of a man who was damn happy to see her, and it filled her with warmth.
A flip switched inside her, and she suddenly felt very silly for all of the endless circles she’d let her thoughts chase themselves in. Something about this man had worked its way under her skin, and she didn’t see herself shaking free of him anytime soon.
“Hey, pretty lady. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She giggled, taking herself by surprise. “I brought you something. A little thank you gift for a lovely time the other evening.”
Wow. That weirdly formal phrasing is doing nothing to further your case that you’re not snooty and standoffish, she chastised herself. For God’s sake, woman! Relax!
“You bought me a present?”
“I did. It’s nothing much.” She extended her hand, holding it out to him. “It’s just, you know, a travel mug. Because it has a lid that fastens. And it’s a little more durable, in case of a fall. And it says ‘Sawdust is Man Glitter’ on it.”
Stop. Babbling!
He turned it over in his hands, examining it from multiple angles. Even though she knew he was likely just being polite, she still couldn’t help the thrill that went through her at how seriously he was taking the small gift.
He looked up at her, his face engulfed in a wide smile. “It’s great. I love it!”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad.”
“I’m glad you dropped by. I was going to stop by your place before I knocked off for the day, actually.”
A flush of pleasure filled her. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I was thinking about what you said at dinner the other night. About wanting to get more involved and meet people?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I absolutely do.”
“Well, my construction company has a softball team. Why don’t you join up? It’s a great group of people. We have a good time.”
She tilted her head. “Isn’t there some kind of rule that would keep me from joining? I mean, because I don’t work there.”
“Nah. It’s very casual. Lots of the wives and girlfriends play…” His words cut off abruptly as his eyes widened, as if he’d heard what he said only after it was partway out of his mouth and then clamped his throat muscles together as hard as he could when he did in hopes of stopping the awkward words in their tracks.
But she didn’t mind one bit. He could call her his girlfriend all day long, and she wouldn’t do anything but enjoy it.
“Or, I mean…friends. Or sisters, or kids. Grandkids, even. It’s just a casual league. That’s what I’m getting at.”
She stepped forward, her eyes locked on his. Her seductive side was emboldened by his obvious Freudian slip. He was clearly thinking of this as more than just a flirtation. More than just a date. She was glad. She liked knowing where she stood.
“There’s just one problem with that,” she said, her voice low and sultry. She let her fingertips just barely brush his arm as she spoke.
He cleared his throat. Still, there was a catch in his voice when he said, “What’s that?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never played softball. I’d need someone to show me the ropes.”
He smiled, the intensity of the playful heat behind them burning into her soul. “I think I know just the person.”
She tilted her h
ead coyly. “Are you sure? They’d need to really know what they were doing. I make it a point only to learn from the very best.”
He leaned down toward her. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, right there in the middle of a sea of sawhorses and tools. Instead, he just whispered low in her ear, the heat of his breath skating across her neck and making her weak in the knees.
“I promise you, I’m the best you’ll ever have.”
Her head spun, her belly throbbed, and her fingers trembled. “Yes. Show me,” she whimpered. She wanted him so badly she would’ve done anything in that moment, even sleep with him on the unfinished floor where they stood. Hell, she wanted to do that.
Troy took a step back, a knowing look in his eyes. “Oh, I plan to,” he teased. “Meet me at the batting cages after work on Friday night.”
Chapter 12
“You don’t seem as nervous about this as I thought you’d be. You’re about to meet your favorite Broadway star. I would’ve thought you’d be jumping out of your skin.”
Troy had agreed to let Mila come to the batting cages. It had been a reluctant decision. After all, he’d envisioned this as a flirty evening. Not a “meet my kid sister, she’s your biggest fan” evening. But when he’d looked into Mila’s pleading eyes, there hadn’t been any real question what his answer would be. Anything in his power to give the kid, he would. No question. One hundred percent of the time.
Now, in the car getting ready to go and actually have the meeting that she’d begged him so pitifully for, the one she’d described as “ultra epic,” she was displaying a practiced nonchalance that Troy couldn’t believe was real. No one was that cool in the face of meeting their idol.
She rolled her eyes at him. That gesture was becoming her equivalent of the kind of multi-meaning word that some cultures had, like “aloha” in Hawaii or “allora” in Italy. Mila’s eye rolls could mean anything from “you’re such a dork but I love you anyway” to “you’re dead to me.”
In both instances, he most often had very little idea what he’d said to bring on the eye roll, but judging by the fact that whatever small group of teenage girls she happened to be hanging out with at the moment also employed the identical gesture at the identical time, he assumed it must’ve been something that was generally agreed on by the female population under the age of eighteen to be an egregiously uncool offense.
He just wished he could identify the “uncool” aspects of himself well enough to stop putting them on display. He often found himself tempted to yell, “I was a freaking professional ballplayer. Do you even know how cool that makes me?” But not only did that come off as desperate, he knew it wouldn’t even work. He’d just be greeted by another wall of rolling teenage eyes.
“I’m not going to, like, fangirl out. That would be so awkward.”
As Mila said the words, he noticed her hand make small, unconscious movements. She grabbed the hem of her T-shirt between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a sharp pull. The gesture tugged at his heartstrings ten times harder than the shirt.
That was her tell. She’d done that same thing when she felt sad or stressed ever since he could remember. He smiled at her, love filling his chest with such intensity he could barely breathe.
Of course she was nervous. Of course she wanted to make a good impression, and of course she felt insecure about making one.
“You’re gonna do great, kid. Just be yourself. Because yourself is better than pretty much anyone I’ve ever met.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then, she turned her eyes gratefully to him. “Thanks, bro. Appreciate it.”
With that, she hopped out of the passenger seat and took off running toward the clubhouse building that sat in front of the batting cages.
He climbed out of the car, chuckling to himself as he slammed and locked the door.
“Well, hello there, stranger.”
Every cell in his body sprang to life at the sound of her voice. It was like his subconscious had embedded her voice deep inside his brain and tagged it as the key to waking him up, body and soul. It never failed. Every time he heard it, it was like lightning in his veins.
“Hi, there. You found it all right?”
She laughed, her eyes dancing. The sound was musical and he felt it like a physical presence, dancing over his skin like tiny feathers. “Your directions were perfect. But even if they hadn’t been, it’s a pretty small town. I think it would’ve been harder for me not to find it.”
He laughed right along with her. He loved seeing things that were so familiar to him about Valentine Bay through her fresh eyes. Especially since she seemed so charmed by his hometown. It just gave him a wave of pride in his upbringing.
“So, should we go in? See how perfect my directions can be in other areas?”
He honestly hadn’t meant it as a double entendre, but he heard the sexual innuendo in his phrasing as soon as her cheeks flamed red. Instead of embarrassing him, though, it just turned him on. He felt his cock straining at his jeans and made a concerted effort to stop the raging train of arousal that was suddenly slamming through him.
You know what they say, he mused to himself. Think about baseball. At least we’re at an appropriate venue.
As they strolled across the parking lot together, their conversation light and easy, he was struck by just how right it seemed. Even though there was a part of him that loved how new and exciting everything felt with Alison, there was another part of him that marveled at how things between them felt so comfortable. He wouldn’t have been totally surprised if some New Age hippie dippy person told him they’d been together in some previous life. When he was with her, it just felt like everything fell right into place.
As they walked up to the payment counter where Mila was waiting, her entire body one big fidget, Troy put his hand on the small of Alison’s back. He hadn’t thought it out ahead of time, it was just an instinct—a gesture, in preparation of introducing Mila. But when he felt her warm, firm flesh under his palm, even through her clothes, a jolt raced up his arm more powerful than any he could imagine he’d get from actual electricity.
Damn. She was powerful. Or maybe it was just their connection that held all the power.
“Alison, I’d like to introduce you to my sister. This is Mila. Mila, meet Alison.”
He thanked God that when the words came out of his mouth they held none of the shaky residual tremor from the electric jolt he was afraid they might have. The last thing he wanted was to give Mila even more ammunition in her growing opinion that he was a giant dork.
He didn’t need to worry, though. He was the last thing on Mila’s mind. In fact, he didn’t think she’d even heard him speak. She was looking at Alison with wide-eyed awe, her face beatific and her breath coming in rapid pants.
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. It’s so awesome to meet you!”
Alison extended her hand and smiled at Mila with all of the trademark grace that Troy had come to expect from her. “Mila, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from your brother.”
He smiled to himself. He’d have to thank her later for throwing in that comment. He was always grateful for any chance to raise himself in his sister’s estimation from “dorky older brother” to “guy who talks about how awesome I am to my favorite celebrity.”
Mila tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes a bit as she looked back and forth between Troy and Alison. After a moment, a mischievous expression took over her pixie features and she said, “Okay, well, I see Olive over there. I’m gonna go hang out with her. See ya later, bye!”
The last sentence was tossed over her shoulder as she took off toward the snack bar, and was spoken so quickly and mashed together so completely that, to Troy’s ears, it sounded more like “seeyalaterbye.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what to tell you. She was really excited to meet you, I swear. I don’t know what got into
her.”
Alison returned his laugh. “I know exactly what got into her,” she replied. “She was bitten by the matchmaker bug.”
Troy smacked his palm to his forehead. “See? This is why I need you around. Someone has to interpret from teen girl to English.”
She sidled up to him, and her fingertips brushed his arm. In a low voice, she asked, “Is that the only reason you need me around?”
He reached up and brushed a stray lock of her hair away from her forehead. In a tone that was low, matching hers, he replied, “It’s not even in the top hundred.”
She flushed at his reply, and he had a powerful urge to kiss her. In fact, he would’ve, if not for the gathering crowd. He didn’t want to make a scene.
Of course, for his part, he would’ve shouted from the rooftops that they were seeing each other. He would’ve gathered the entire town for a festival in the town square to celebrate it and then capped off the festivities by giving her the longest and most passionate kiss in the world.
But he didn’t know if she was on the same page with all of that, and above all, he was determined to do what was best for her in any way he could, large and small. If that included refraining from locking lips at the batting cages in front of a crowd of people, as much as it was difficult to hold himself back, he would damn well do it.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of training to do.”
“I’m actually really nervous.”
“Nervous? Why?”
“Because what if I’m really terrible at it?”
“You’ve never gotten behind a bat before?”
“Well, not since… I don’t know. Maybe elementary school PE class.”
He nodded decisively. “Oh, well then there’s no what if about it. You’re going to be terrible. Just accept it.”
She threw her head back in a deep laugh. “What happened to you being the best teacher in the world?”
He winked. “Oh, I am. If you’d decided to put yourself in anyone’s hands but mine, you’d be terrible for a lot longer.”
Playing By Heart Page 5