by Megan Ryder
“Adult roles?”
“Not like that,” she snapped. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“You were flashing your breasts for the world to see. What was I supposed to think? You were auditioning for Mary Poppins?”
“Dylan! That’s the point. No one sees me as anything else. So Mom and Stan...”
Dylan groaned. Of course. His mother and Lindsey’s agent had cooked up this scheme. “Lindsey, you should know better than to listen to them. What did they tell you?”
“Dylan, my show is cancelled. I’m out of a job and no one else wants me because I’m too old to play a convincing teenager and too typecast to play anything else. My career is over.” Her voice broke on a sob and Dylan’s heart twisted in his chest.
He sank down in a chair and buried his fingers in his hair. “Awww, damn, Lindsey. I’m sorry, babe. Is there anything I can do?”
She laughed, a raw, bitter sound. “No, Dylan. I’ll handle this. You focus on your job.”
“Lindsey, you can’t listen to mom and Stan. They’re wrong. This isn’t the way to get better roles.”
“How would you know? You know nothing about this business. I need to show people that I’m an adult. I have to distance myself from the goody teen role and act like an adult.”
“And flashing your boobs and dancing on tables shows that you’re an adult?” The outrage was creeping back into his voice and he couldn’t stop it. He wanted to fly out west and kick someone’s ass, even his mother for putting his sister through this delusional shit. “Lindsey, there have to be better ways. Tell me at least you’re not doing drugs.”
A long pause and he would have thought they had been disconnected but for the sound of her breathing. He clenched the cell phone so tightly, he thought it might crack under pressure. “Lindsey? Honey. Stop whatever it is you’re doing. Please. I don’t want to keep reading about you like this. The mug shots aren’t a good look.”
He tried to inject a note of humor but, judging by the silence, she wasn’t buying it.
“Dylan, I’m not doing drugs. I drink a little but that’s it. Maybe some pot. Nothing else. I swear.” She sounded so young, so small, so much like the little sister he remembered before their lives had detonated and exploded apart.
“Fuck. Lindsey, please. Come out to Georgia for a while. Take a break from everything. Get your head on straight. Please.”
“You think I can’t handle this? Don’t treat me like a child, Dylan. Don’t treat me like everyone else.” Her voice broke and he could hear unshed tears in her voice. “Don’t call me, Dylan. Not for a while. Not until you can see me as an adult.”
The call ended and he reflexively clenched the phone and made as if to throw it but a hand stopped him. Savannah pried his fingers from around the phone and laid it on the counter, just out of reach. She didn’t release his hand though. Instead, she grasped it in hers, holding it tightly as she pulled out the other kitchen chair and sat next to him, her other hand resting on his shoulder, wordlessly offering comfort.
“She’s a disaster. She has no idea and our mom is leading her down the path. What the hell!”
Savannah flinched at his outburst but didn’t stop stroking his shoulder and refused to release his hand, not letting him move away. Slowly his muscles eased beneath her soothing ministrations and he sagged in the chair.
“It’s her path, Dylan. You can only be there for her. You offered her a place to come stay if she wanted it. Let it ride a few days then, when you’ve both calmed down, offer again. See if she’s ready.”
“What if it gets worse? I have to protect her.”
Savannah leaned back in her chair, finally letting her hand drop from his shoulder, but his hand refused to relinquish hers. “I’ve spent a lot of years trying to protect my family, my sister usually. I beat up bullies on the playground. Helped her with her homework. Made sure she had something to eat and nice clothes every day for school. But there comes a time when you have to let them make their own choices.”
He lifted his head and stared at her. “But your sister has come back home after making yet another bad decision.”
“And I’m there for her as long as she needs me. But she has to make that move.” She leaned forward. “You have to let her make her decisions and her mistakes now. Be there for her, support her. But never judge her or you’ll lose her forever.”
She stood and slid her hand out from his. She brushed her lips across his forehead, a comforting gesture between friends. “I’m going to head out now. Are you all right?”
He nodded, still numb from the situation. She started to walk away and he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. He tugged her down, intending a friendly kiss but somehow his lips met hers and it changed in that one instance. Her mouth softened in surprise and he took immediate advantage, his tongue teasing along the seam then dipping inside to taste and taunt. She tasted of beer and steak and sweet, strong woman, and it was turning him on like nothing he had ever tasted before. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, stroking and sliding, igniting a fire deep inside that was quickly turning into a raging inferno of desire for this woman.
He slid a hand up her neck to tangle in her hair, holding her steady, angling her better for his kiss. She braced herself against the table and his shoulder, moaning into his mouth, a low needy sound that had all his senses on high alert. His other hand swept over her waist and under her t-shirt, desperate to touch her soft skin, needing to feel it more than anything else at that moment. He curved his hand around her, his fingers tucking into the waistband of her jean shorts, pulling her closer to him and stroking the crease and the soft globes of her ass.
She jerked in his hand and pulled back, eyes wide and slightly unfocused, lips swollen from his kiss. He blinked at her, passion still fogging his mind. She pushed back and he released her, studying her carefully, unsure of her reaction. She lifted a shaky hand to smooth her hair and fix her shirt. Her breath was unsteady, her breasts heaving and her nipples standing at full attention, making his mouth water for a taste.
Damn, he hoped he didn’t screw this up.
“Well, um. I think I’ll go now.”
He jumped to his feet, the chair falling back. He caught it just before it completely hit the floor and he righted it, movements becoming jerky. “Okay, I’ll see you out. You okay to drive home?”
She nodded, a quick short motion. “I’ll come by tomorrow to take Sadie out. Use the crate.”
Now she was sounding more like her drill sergeant self. Maybe he hadn’t affected her as much as he thought. She turned to leave and banged into the counter. “Sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”
And she fled from the house as if the hounds of hell were on her tail and not just Dylan. And he wanted her, tail and everything else she had.
Shit just got complicated.
Chapter Ten
After barely sleeping, fantasizing about Savannah sleeping in his bed, with him, he woke to a hard and aching erection and no relief. He distracted himself with thoughts of the team, deflating all sexual thoughts completely. He took care of Sadie and headed to the ball park to tackle, head-on, his issues with his pitching staff, namely Cody Patterson. He got to the park early as usual and scanned the scouting reports as he did his workout in the weight room, his only company the sound of weights clinking and the low volume of the television and the national sports network. He was finishing up as other guys trickled in, calling out absent greetings and shooting the breeze about the off day, but Dylan’s mind was focused on the night game and how to get Cody through it.
“Hey, Dylan. You ready for the second half?” Jason Friar, former first baseman for the team and head of player development, wandered into the weight room and pulled up a chair next to Dylan.
Dylan set the tablet aside and looked at Jason. “Yeah. I’m feeling solid. Locked in at the plate. Legs feel good.”
“Good, good.” Jason nodded absently. “Catching is a tough job. Lot of catchers wear down
physically by the second half. But I’m more curious how things are going with the staff. We have quite a few young pitchers and I know how cocky the young bastards can be.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes, suspicion dawning. Jason was on a fishing expedition for more than just a physical status. He could have gotten that from the trainer or the team doctor. No, he was looking for something and Dylan didn’t have the patience for the dance. “If you have something to say, then say it. I have a game to prepare for.”
Jason grimaced. “I never got the hang of subtlety. Stacia tells me I skipped that lesson in school or wherever you’re supposed to learn that shit. Anyway, I played with Cody and some of these guys. They’re young and cocky, thinking themselves invincible, but they’re not. What’s going on with Patterson? Is it fatigue, an injury, or something else?”
Dylan sighed. “He’s not trusting me. He won’t let me in. We’ve been together for four months and we just aren’t connecting.” Dylan stood and paced in front of Jason. “Hell, it could be mental fatigue, or even physical. He’ll never admit it. Cocky bastard.”
Jason nodded and came up next to Dylan, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We brought you in late this season, well into spring training and we changed everything up on you, on the whole team. You didn’t have a chance to really build a rapport with anyone before you were thrown into a high-pressure situation, the battle between Miranda and her father. Believe me, I get the pressure. We believe you can be the game changer for our team, the lynchpin that we can build our team around. We need you to anchor our starting rotation. And I know you’re in your last year of your contract and want to prove something to yourself, to the team, to the league. I’m going to give you some advice that someone once gave me.”
Dylan snorted but not too loud. Jason was kind of his boss and he didn’t want to piss him off. Instead, Dylan pasted on a bland expression and faced the other man, arms crossed.
Jason took in his stance but said nothing about it. “Relax. Let all that other shit drift away. You need to find a way to anchor that kid because he’s running wild and the faster he runs, the worse his pitches get. He needs to trust you. Find a way to connect with him or the season’s going to spin out of control.”
Dylan grunted and shook his head. “Any suggestions? He thinks I lecture him too much.”
“Maybe you do. Get to know him and you’ll figure it out. Hell, I challenged him to a bet last year. I wouldn’t recommend it though.” Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “You were the steady rock in Minnesota, the catcher their most volatile pitcher looked to. How many wild pitches does Napoli have this season? All time high, isn’t it? He doesn’t trust his new catcher, not like he trusted you. Figure out what you did there, and if it will work here. Or find another way.”
Jason nodded to a couple outfielders who came in the weight room, exchanging pleasantries and words on the upcoming game. He finally started out the door, but paused. “Dylan? Trust the kid and he’ll trust you.”
Well, what kind of mystical Yoda shit was that? He might as well trust in the goddamn Force or something equally ambiguous. Damn it.
Cody strutted into the locker room, joking with a couple of the other pitchers. Dylan looked around at the team and saw the lines drawn, invisible but it was as if the chalk markings from the field existed here in the locker room. Infielders stuck together. Outfielders hung out in the weight room. Relievers were shooting the breeze in the other corner with the backup catcher, leaving the starters over by Cody. And Dylan? He was sitting by his locker, isolated from the team and he had no idea how to integrate with them.
Cody looked up and caught his gaze, as if feeling the weight of his stare. He met Dylan’s eyes levelly, a hint of challenge and defensiveness in them, as if expecting Dylan to snap at him about something. And maybe he was right. Dylan had been irritated when Cody came in, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t have a big game in a few hours. Jason’s words echoed in his head. Find a way to connect with the kid.
He gave the kid a nod and turned back to the locker, catching the flare of surprise in the other guy’s face before he settled into a chair with his scouting reports, doing what he did best. Shutting out the distractions of the locker room and doing his job. He’d deal with everything else later.
The game went about as well as could be expected, maybe slightly better without putting pressure on Cody. They won, but it was a close call. Cody didn’t shake off Dylan as much as usual but his pitches were up in the zone and he seemed tired. After the game, Dylan tried to talk with him but Cody brushed him off saying it was the heat or something stupid.
Now it was after midnight and Dylan was looking forward to tumbling into bed and getting some rest. His muscles ached from crouching behind home plate for over three hours. His neck cramped from arching up at hitters and the umpires. And he was tired of walking on eggshells all the time. His headlights flashed on the house and illuminated the dusty, old Suburban and his heart flipped in his chest. He parked in the garage and let himself in quietly, trying not to disturb the dogs or wake Savannah.
She was stretched out on the couch, the dogs on the floor in front of her, snoring louder than his former roommates on the road in the minor leagues. He paused in the doorway, his eyes drinking in the sight of her waiting for him. Asleep, she looked peaceful and relaxed, one hand tucked under her cheek, her breasts plumped up against her t-shirt. A warm feeling spread through his chest and it was more than a shot of lust but a feeling of coming home. So different than the echo when he used to walk in and hear his own feet clopping through the house as he walked up to bed. Now, someone waited for him, cared when he came home.
It was... nice.
Sadie woke and, in a flash, headed straight for him and her nighttime belly rubs. Savannah sat up and stretched, her t-shirt proclaiming, “Balls are overrated. Neuter your pets.” Reflexively, he tightened his thighs and thanked God Sadie was a girl.
He gave Carl a commiserating rub on the head and muttered, “Sorry, dude. They’re not really overrated. In fact, they’re pretty great.”
“What are you telling him?” She leaned forward and covered his ears. “He doesn’t need to know what he’s missing.”
Dylan stood up and wiped his slacks. “Hey, how would you feel if you got your balls chopped off without your permission? I’d be pretty pissed.”
“It’s better than having more unwanted or abused puppies running around in the world. You know, that’s your problem...” She took a deep breath, clearly intent on going full-on into her preaching mode and he just didn’t need it.
He burst out laughing. “Chill out, Savannah. I was just poking fun. You can’t wear that shirt and expect me not to comment. Especially a guy. We’re kind of attached to our balls, you know.”
She grinned, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks. “Sorry. I take rescue a little too seriously sometimes.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Suddenly sober, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
She followed him, her bare feet padding softly on the ceramic floor. She slid on the bar stool, settling onto the curved seat, watching him silently. He gestured to her with the bottle and she nodded. He took another beer out, opened it and passed it to her. Then he leaned against the granite counter and rested his head on the cabinets and sighed.
“What’s got you down, punky?”
For some reason, he thought maybe she would understand. Out of everything that had gone on, she had seemed to get it and damned if he knew who else had any clue. He picked at the label while the silence dragged on. She got up, placed her beer on the counter, and walked around the breakfast bar and faced him across the kitchen.
“Dylan, what’s going on? Is it Lindsey?”
He laughed. “No, that’s a whole other mess. Have you ever had trouble relating to someone, getting them to trust you?”
She shrugged. “All the time. It’s my job.”
“Not a dog. A person
. You really need to get out more.”
Her eyes narrowed and she smacked him on the arm. “Dogs and people aren’t much different. You need to gain their trust and earn their respect. It’s not automatic, except in the case of parents and small puppies. Look at Sadie. How did she become tied to you?”
He looked down at the gray dog who was sprawled on her back across his feet, letting the world see her business. “Really, Sadie? No class. I fed her.”
“There you go. Food. A nice start. But what else? You were nice to her. You protected her and treated her with kindness. Something I think she’s had precious little of before now.” She took a step closer to him, laid a hand on his forearm, her fingers lightly stroking the skin. “Dylan, you can’t shut people out, keep them at a distance. You have to open yourself to them, let them in. Only then will you be able to connect with them.”
Lust shot straight to his groin and a whole different hunger took over deep inside. She seemed caught in his gaze, mesmerized by the hunger he saw reflected in her eyes. If he leaned just a little further, he could taste her sweet lips, feel the gentle stroking of her tongue. Would her hands clutch his arms, her nails leaving little half-moon indentations in his skin? Would she gasp and arch into his embrace or would she pull back? Did she feel the same tug he felt; the merciless hunger riding him hard ever since that day at the shelter? Her hand spasmed on his arm, the sharp sting of her nails in his forearm jerked him out of his fantasy.
She blinked rapidly and took a step back, as if sensing they needed space between them. “I should go. It’s late and I’m sure you’ll want to get some rest. Sometime tomorrow?”
Wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.
She whistled for her dog and headed for the door. He clenched the edge of the counter and the bottle of beer, resisting the urge to call her back, beg her to stay the night. She was the only one who kept the darkness, the loneliness at bay.