Perfect Game

by Collette West

  "Wow." I whistle, taken aback, glad to have my mind on someone else's problems besides my own. "So, they're already moving you up to Triple-A, huh?"

  "Nothing like rushing it after they said that they wouldn't," he replies sarcastically.

  "Why? Aren't you ready?" I question him, worried because rehabbing a pitcher's arm after Tommy John surgery isn't something they should be fooling around with.

  "I feel like I am, but the docs keep insisting that I should wait until June," he responds, a slight tremor of uncertainty coming through, especially since his last few rehab outings have been shaky.

  "And Terry's not even listening to them?" I yell—apparently loud enough for Bobby to hear me, because he shoots me a look for disturbing his solitude before wheeling himself back toward the kitchen.

  "What do you think?" Jilly laughs mirthlessly. "The team's on track to finish the first half of the season at an even five hundred. Currently, we're in third place in our division, four games behind Baltimore. That's not where Terry wants us to be at this time of year, and he's probably thinking it's only gonna get worse as the season rolls along. He's scared we're gonna fall too far behind to gain any ground."

  "But it has nothing to do with the pitching staff," I argue, because in my heart this doesn't make sense in any way, shape, or form. "Besides me and Jake, the offense has been struggling, especially Drake."

  "And what does Terry do? Trade away our best hitter. Don't even get me started." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "We all know it can happen to anyone of us at any time. It just sucks that it had to be you."

  "I appreciate it, big guy," I respond, realizing just how much I'm going to miss playing with a stand-up guy like Jilly Gillette. "Go give'em hell up in Stockton for me, all right?"

  "Remember when we were first coming up together"—he pauses to reminisce a little—"and you did an impression of Arnold at the open-mic night at one of the local bars?"

  "You were there that night?" I blurt out. He never went out with the guys, preferring to keep to himself, the loner that he is.

  "Nah. I saw the video later on somebody's phone," he admits.

  "There's a video? Great," I moan, hoping that it doesn't resurface any time soon.

  "Well, you'd better tap back into that 'I don't give a shit, no one intimidates me' attitude and go face the boss man in person," Jilly says.

  "Well, I'll be in New York after this series," I reply, setting the stage.

  "Do it, man," he urges. "Bring Terry down. I'm telling ya it may be your only shot at fixing all this before it's too late. Because once you're gone around here, you know how quickly they forget about you."

  "Be prepared if I'm not playing on any team when it's all said and done. The Kings are gonna blackball me from here to eternity." I turn away from the window and glance at myself in the mirror. I'm unshaven, my hair is sticking up in every direction, and dark circles sit under my eyes. God, I feel like hell.

  "It's time to shake things up around here, and it's gonna start with bringing you home where you belong," Jilly replies like it's already a done deal.

  "Amen to that, brother." I close my eyes and take heart that I might not be in this alone after all. "I'll keep you posted."

  "Yeah, you do that," he commands, his deep voice galvanizing me.

  I will get my job back.

  I will hold on to Carrie.

  I will fix what's broken inside my brother.

  Or I'll friggin' die trying.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Carrie

  Yay! It's finally Thursday.

  Alex and I follow the Bergdorf Goodman lingerie girl with her sashaying hips and jingling set of keys toward the fitting room.

  "Alex, thanks for coming with me. I know you're in the middle of finals and everything."

  "Please. When have I ever passed up an opportunity to go shopping with you?" Alex hands me the hangers she was carrying with the flimsy bits of nothing on them while the salesgirl unlocks one of the doors for me.

  "Still, it's very sweet of you." I smile nervously at Alex, getting anxious about having to try this stuff on.

  "Well, we both know how accommodating the salespeople here can be." Alex rolls her eyes as the salesgirl, who saunters away and zeroes in on a cute guy who's fingering a display of negligees.

  "That's why I need your honest opinion, Alex. They always tell me that everything looks good on me just to make the sale, and I end up believing them until I get home and end up hating everything I bought," I groan with my hand on the door handle.

  "I'm here for you, sis. Although I don't think you've ever modeled lingerie for me before." She wrinkles her nose.

  "I know it's kinda weird, but no weirder than trying on bikinis together, right?" I shrug before slipping behind the door.

  "The ones we never buy," she mutters on the other side.

  I try not to look at myself in the mirror while I take my clothes off, but I can't help it. I suck in my stomach and watch my breasts pop out as I unhook my bra. I sigh in frustration before responding to Alex.

  "I'm sorry I ever tried wearing a bikini in public, because let's face it—a tiny little string isn't going to keep these ladies in place."

  God, why do my boobs have to be so goddamn big? Sure, guys think huge titties are sexy, but they don't have to live with them.

  "Tell me about it," Alex chimes in, feeling my pain. "Why do you think I don't spend my weekends poolside in the Hamptons?"

  "Yeah, well, I refuse to be ashamed of my body," I reply with a sense of confidence I wish I actually felt.

  I stand in front of the mirror completely naked, forcing myself to look and smile at what I see. I'm not that overweight girl anymore. I'm not. I'm big-busted. That's all. My waist comes in now. My legs are toned. My ass is getting there.

  But…I still can't understand what Scott sees in me, and at times like these—when I'm standing here, shivering, trying to do everything in my power to please him and keep him interested—thinking about why in the world he's attracted to me really freaks me out.

  "I guess not. Not the way you've been working it lately," Alex responds, buying into my bluff that I'm proud of my body—probably because she can't see the stricken expression on my face.

  "It's part of the job," I argue, stepping into a red chemise.

  "Sure it is," she grumbles, annoyed with me.

  "But, Alex, you don't know how good it feels to embrace that side of myself," I admit honestly. "I like not having to hide beneath baggy tunics or cover my chest with chunky scarves anymore."

  Clothes, I'm okay with. Buying skimpy lingerie for a man with the body of an Adonis? That's another story.

  "You're just letting it all hang out, then," Alex sighs, and I hear her slap her hands against her thighs.

  I fiddle with the top of the chemise, not liking how it looks on me. "Are you really gonna start picking on me, Alex?"

  "I don't want you stooping to their level. That's all," she insists as I see her feet pace back and forth beneath the door.

  "Says the girl who hasn't stepped foot in the real world yet," I mumble.

  Her feet come to a complete stop. "Hey. I'm graduating next week," she protests.

  "But you still don't have a clue what you're going to do with the rest of your life, do you?" I press her, diving headfirst into the conversation I've been meaning to have with her for weeks.

  "What's the rush? I'm not in any hurry."

  I recognize that flippant tone in her voice, which has always been her fallback line of defense. "So, you intend to coast through life on the Heimlich name? Is that it?" I chide her.

  She sasses me back. "It opens doors, Carrie. I'd be silly not to take advantage of it. Seriously, do you think you'd still have your job at the network if you weren't Arnold's granddaughter?"

  "Yes, I do," I respond a little too quickly.

  "After getting caught with one of the players?" Alex digs in. "I don't think so."

  I burst through
the door. "I didn't get caught."

  "Oh yeah. That's right," she says, tapping her chin. "You led him to his death by inviting him over and not telling him who our parents are, who our grandfather is."

  I cross my arms in front of my protruding chest. "This will all blow over, and it won't be long until Scott's back on the team."

  "They obviously want you to stay the hell away from him, and what am I helping you do?" She gestures at me with her hand. "Buy some sexy lingerie so you can stay at his place tonight. That's not gonna get Scott back on the Kings and you know it, Carrie."

  And that's when the salesgirl decides to reappear. "Do you ladies need any help with anything?"

  "No, we're good. Thanks," Alex says, brushing her off.

  But she stands there, looking at me like she can see every ripple of cellulite on my body. She makes eye contact with me, and it's clear that she overheard Alex's last remark. She knows that I'm standing here nearly naked because of Scott Harper, and based on the curl of her lip, she can't believe it either.

  "We do have some plus-size pieces in the back I can show you." She tosses her hair, smirking at me, a challenging glint in her eye.

  She can taunt me all she wants. I'm not going to let her see that she's getting to me. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

  "That won't be necessary," I reply, giving her a tight smile.

  "Okay," she says in a sickeningly sweet voice, walking backward with her hands clasped behind her. "I have a pretty good idea what kinds of things a man like Scott Harper would like."

  I take a step toward her, ready to gouge her eyes out, but she quickly moves back onto the sales floor, where she knows I won't dare follow until I'm fully dressed.

  "I'll be right outside if you need me."

  "Yeah, and stay there, bitch," Alex mutters after her.

  "She was just being honest," I sigh, slumping onto the chair in the fitting room, trying and failing to pull the hem of the chemise down enough to cover my thighs.

  Alex kneels before me. "Carrie, you're not that chubby girl anymore, so don't let anyone make you feel like you are." She pats my knee until I look at her.

  "Yeah? Well, how does this one look, then?" I stand up and twirl around.

  "Like you stuffed your tits into a doily," she admits, smiling up at me.

  "Hey!" I glare at her with my hands on my hips.

  She throws her hands up. "You said you wanted my honest opinion."

  "Not that honest," I mutter, glancing down at my boobs, which are crammed into this tiny, lace getup and realizing how ridiculous I must look.

  "I don't know why you think you have to get all sexed up for him anyway. It's not like Scott is gonna keep a scrap of clothing on your body any longer than he has to," Alex laughs, nudging me.

  I look up at the ceiling, and my lip starts to tremble. "But I was looking on Jessica Wallace's Instagram and—"

  She smacks my arm. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that?"

  "But it's not just her," I groan. "It's all the women Scott's been with. Every one of them is super hot and bursting with confidence. I don't want him to feel like he's lowering the bar by dating me." I bite down on my quivering lip, determined not to cry.

  "Carrie, look at me," Alex urges.

  "What?" I sniffle, pretending to be annoyed so she won't notice how upset I am. "I'm freezing. Let me at least throw my shirt over my shoulders."

  But she sees right through me. "Carrie, you are an amazing person. You're the kindest, most thoughtful, smartest girl a guy could ever ask for." She wraps my shirt around me, rubbing my arms. "You're beautiful inside and out, and Scott's no fool. He sees that, too."

  "But it's not like he's the one making me feel this way," I try to explain. "I just keep comparing myself to all of his other women, and I can't help wondering how I can possibly be the one who does it for him."

  "You told me that he said he's never had sex with someone he loves before, right?" she questions.

  I simply nod.

  "Well, doesn't that tell you all you need to know?" She smiles. "He doesn't just want to fuck your brains out because you've got big titties!" she exclaims, making me laugh. "He friggin' loves you, Carrie, and not just your body—all of you."

  I take a deep breath and dab at my eyes. "Thanks, Alex. I needed that."

  She gives me a hug, and I start spilling my guts out to her.

  "Everything's been so confusing since he left the team. I know I'm trying too hard, but it's like I can't stop myself from proving to him that I'm worth it."

  She pulls back to look at me. "He didn't walk away from you, did he?"

  I shake my head.

  "He could've let our family scare him off, but he didn't. He wants this to work out just as much as you do." She tilts her head to the side. "Carrie, you did the impossible," she proclaims, her voice filled with awe. "You turned Scott Harper into even more of a hottie now that you've made him into genuine boyfriend material."

  "Stop it." I blush. "He was always hot."

  "But there's nothing hotter than a man who knows what he wants and goes after it," Alex affirms.

  I feel my heart skip a beat at her words. "But…" I brush my hair away from my face, lowering my guard and letting her see how worried I am. "He's taking such a big risk, seeing me while he's here, and…"

  "Hold that thought." She taps the tip of my nose with her finger before digging her phone out of her pocket. "I just got a text."

  "Hey. I thought we were in the middle of something here," I moan. "A big, sisterly heart-to-heart."

  "We are," she assures me hurriedly, lowering her eyes to the screen.

  "I don't think your smile can get any wider," I bust her when I see a huge grin spread across her face. "Who is it?"

  "Bob Harper," she replies matter-of-factly without looking up.

  "Excuse me?" I shriek.

  "Now, don't get mad," Alex says calmly, watching my face turn red. "But Scott gave him my number and we've been texting each other back and forth for the past few days."

  "How did Scott even get your number?" I sputter.

  "He swiped it from your phone when you were asleep at the bungalow. He guessed that your passcode was 1515, doubling his number." She shrugs.

  "Nice," I groan, wondering if I'm really so predictable that Scott can guess my every move. "So, what does Bob want?"

  "He wants me to call him." She rocks back and forth on her toes, giving me that same dopey smile she gets whenever she has a crush on a boy—the kind that usually doesn't last more than a week. Two weeks tops.

  I rub my forehead. Scott probably thought I was okay with it when he joked about setting the two of them up. He doesn't know my sister like I do. Her infatuations tend to last about as long as her Facebook statuses.

  "When were you gonna tell me about all of this?"

  "I don't know. You seemed so stressed. I didn't want to bother you," she mumbles, chewing on her lip and lowering her gaze.

  "Alex, Bob has a lot issues that he's dealing with," I respond, immediately going into big-sister mode. "You are aware that—"

  "He was the soldier who flipped out at the stadium?" She raises an eyebrow at me. "Yeah. So what?"

  Her candidness catches me off guard, rendering me speechless.

  So she continues. "Let's see. There are so many reasons why a superficial girl like me wouldn't be into a guy like him, right? He doesn't have any legs. He's in a wheelchair. He has a case of PTSD from his time in Afghanistan."

  I stare into her eyes. "And none of those things freak you out?"

  "No…not really," she replies, causing me to sigh and shake my head, but she just carries on, getting more and more animated. "Honestly, Carrie, none of that even matters to me, because once you get beyond all that, he's such a great guy. He told me that I'm the only one who's been able to make him laugh in quite a while, and that makes me feel really good inside. So relax, okay? It was Scott's idea to hook us up, and he should know what his brother needs better than anyo
ne, right?"

  "And it doesn't hurt that Bob's drop-dead gorgeous," I mutter, ready to gauge her reaction.

  "Really?" She shrugs innocently. "I didn't notice."

  "And you pride yourself on being honest?" I laugh despite myself, and she shoots me a frustrated look. "What do you and Bob even talk about anyway?"

  "I'll tell you," she begins, leaning in like she's about to tell me a big secret, "the minute you tell me what Scott whispers in your ear when he's lying in bed next to you."

  "Get out of here," I giggle, giving her a playful shove.

  "Gladly!" she exclaims, opening the door before turning around to look at me over her shoulder. "Oh, and please don't buy any of that stuff. You don't need it." She gives me a saucy wink. "Didn't Scott randomly say in some interview that he's a big fan of R.D. Bukater's romance novels?" She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'd let them be your guide if I were you. You wanna stand out? Trust me. That'll do it. Why be a cliché when you can be an original? Give him a night he'll never forget, sis."

  Alex shuts the door, and I cast a glance at myself in the mirror, knowing she's right.

  There's just one thing I need to make tonight perfect, and it's something that can't be bought in a store. Luckily, I know exactly how to obtain it. I smile, getting turned on from just thinking about what I have in store for that sexy man of mine. Alex is right. I may not be the prettiest or the sexiest or the most famous girl Scott's ever been with, but he's never told any of them that he loves them.

  But he told me.

  I smile to myself, hugging my arms to my chest. Scott Harper, get ready, 'cause this big-breasted beauty is about to rock your world.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Scott

  It's late, and I'm beat.

  I kick the door to my New York apartment open, my arms loaded down with luggage, glad to be back. I set everything down and reach for my phone again. Still nothing from Carrie—that's odd. She had the whole day off, and I was hoping she'd turn up at the Titans' stadium to watch me play, but I haven't heard from her since I texted her that our plane landed earlier this morning. She was excited, all smiley faces and exclamation points—so where the hell is she?