Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  “I’m afraid to ask,” I tell him.

  “Read. I just bought a new book for my Kindle and I can’t wait to start reading it.”

  I gasp. He had better be kidding. “You’re not serious,” I snarl.

  “As serious as a fat kid in an ice cream shop,” he snipes.

  “Are you trying to make me die of embarrassment? There’s things in there that are ... explicit . . . graphic . . . you know . . .” I whisper, “dirty.”

  He grins. “Kenny. I’ve told you before – I don’t care. I guarantee I’ve heard it all before and you know that I’m not inexperienced. I doubt there’s anything in there that would shock me.”

  I huff. “Fine. But I don’t want to know about it. You are not to discuss it with me or ask me any questions. I don’t want to know what you think, and don’t you dare talk about it with any of my friends.”

  “No problem. But the guys always ask me for book recommendations. They all have wives and girlfriends who might like it.”

  “No!” I quickly bite back, a little louder than necessary. “Won’t they think it’s odd that you’re reading a romance book? Won’t they start asking questions? You can’t tell them about me, Cole. Please don’t!”

  “I would never do that, Kenny. Not in a million years. I was just kidding, but I guess it wasn’t very funny. I swear I won’t tell a soul.”

  “You promise?”

  “Pinky swear.” Cole wraps his little finger around mine. Our fingers stay locked together a little longer than necessary. Ignoring my gag order, he adds. “But I will be reading it and I’d like to be able to call you if I have any questions.”

  “Fine,” I grudgingly agree.

  “So, what number should I call?” He grins at me as he takes a TitleWave napkin and turns it over, passing it towards me.

  My heart skips a beat and I smile to myself. I take a deep breath and grab a pen from my purse. I question my own actions as I write my cell phone number down. My friends are the only ones who have my personal number. I justify that he and I have become friends, too.

  Cole’s smile is huge. “Thank you.” He quickly snatches up the napkin and shoves it in his pocket.

  We finish breakfast together, and all too soon, it’s time for Cole to leave. We both stand up to clean up our breakfast. Cole looks down at me and smiles as he takes a step closer. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in to give me a nice hug.

  Sensations long suppressed rocket through me when our bodies touch. His body presses into mine as he hugs me tighter. I allow myself a moment to appreciate his warmth, his scent, the feel of his back muscles on my hands, and the pure enjoyment this hug gives me.

  Cole’s hand gently cradles the back of my head, and his fingers slip into my hair. He kisses me softly on my forehead; his lips linger for an extra second or two before he releases our embrace.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” he whispers softly, takes a few steps back, and heads north down the boardwalk.

  The rest of my morning flies by. I find myself watching the clock and wondering what Cole’s doing. Finally, at noon when I know he must have arrived at the field for practice, I relax – but just a little.

  I call over to Brie, “I’m buying lunch. How does pizza sound?” It’s my turn to buy. Besides, the bookstore is quiet for the moment and I may not get another chance to slip out.

  “Make it a margherita pizza and I’m in,” Cait calls out from the office. I didn’t even realize she was in there.

  I look at Brie. “Sounds good to me,” she shrugs.

  So I grab my keys and tell Amanda, the cashier, I’ll be out for a few. She’s sitting on a stool behind the register texting someone – probably her boyfriend – but she stops long enough to acknowledge me with an indifferent, “K.” As I’m walking down the boardwalk, I wonder if I was that self-absorbed in high school. This is her first job and I doubt she’s going to make it all the way through the summer.

  Just a few hundred feet away is Joey Tomato’s – the best pizzeria on the boardwalk. Standing behind the counter tossing a pizza is my favorite pizza guy, Anthony. He has a deep, rich tan, warm brown eyes, and uses more hair product that me, Cait, and Brie combined. He’s a transplant from Long Island, like me, and listening to him speak makes me yearn for home.

  He smiles when he sees me. “Hey, there Caw-fee Girl. What’ll it be today?” I’ve told him more than a few times that Brie is the Cawfee Girl and I’m the book girl, but it doesn’t seem to be sticking, so I just go with it. No point in correcting him yet again.

  “The girls and I were thinking about sharing a margherita pie today,” I tell him, glancing around at the ready-to-sell pies on the other side of the glass – none of which happen to be a margherita.

  “I have one due to come out in a couple ‘a minutes. Have a seat and I’ll call ya when it’s done.”

  I find an empty table and prepare to sit and wait. As I do, I hear a familiar voice . . . his voice. They have a television sitting atop a refrigerator case that’s tuned to the sports channel and Cole is giving an interview before today’s game. Cole has an amazing voice, calm and soothing, but devilishly seductive at the same time. He totally could have gone into radio. My eyes are glued to the set and I smile broadly as I listen.

  “You inta baseball, Kenny?” Anthony calls to me, breaking me from my trance. He’s tossing dough in the air and catching it effortlessly, twirling and stretching it with ease and perfection.

  “I’m starting to,” I tell him honestly.

  “Yeah? Then you gotta let me take you to see a Red Hawks game sometime. That guy they’re interviewing stops in here sometimes. I betcha I could score us a couple of tickets behind home plate. Whaddya you say?” Anthony is smiling confidently, flashing me his pearly whites.

  We’ve gone down this road before and frankly, I’m running out of excuses.

  “Sorry Anthony, but I couldn’t possibly take a day off from work right now, even if I wanted to.” Which I don’t, but he doesn’t have to know that. My candy-coated lie sounds so convincing I almost believe it myself. There is a little truth to what I said.

  “You know, Kenny, one of these days, I’m gonna getcha to go out with me. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. I’m a really nice guy.” He turns away and pulls my margherita pizza from the oven.

  “I know you are, Anthony. You’re my favorite pizza guy, hands down.” That seems to earn me a few points, hopefully more than I lost when I turned him down.

  He slides the pizza into the box, slices it, and closes the lid. “Here’s your margherita, Cawfee Girl.”

  I walk over to the counter and take out my wallet, but Anthony stops me. “This one’s on the house.”

  I pull my hand out of my purse, look up, and smile at him. “Thanks, Anthony. You’re so sweet. I owe you one.” Grabbing the fresh, hot pizza, I turn to leave.

  “You know how you can pay me back, don’t ya?” he calls after me. I can feel his eyes lingering on my backside as I walk away.

  Over dinner, Philip grills me about my new friend. I can’t risk telling him the truth. He will flip his lid. There’s no way he will allow me to continue to spend time with a professional baseball player.

  “Talk to Mom lately?” Philip asks.

  “Nope. You?”

  He nods. “She called. Wants to know how you’re doing. Is there a reason why you’re not calling her back?”

  “Not really. I’ve just been real busy.”

  “Do me a favor, sis. Call Mom. She’s just going to keep calling me and I don’t have time for that, either.”

  I promise to give our mother a call. Just to let her know I’m okay.

  After dinner, Philip excuses himself to the living room to watch tonight’s game, bringing Connor with him so Megan and I can clean up and talk about children’s lit.

  Megan peeks around the corner to see if my brother is listening. Satisfied that he’s completely focused on the game, she asks me more about the mysterious Cole.


  “So, did you kiss him last night?” Megan quietly breathes in my ear so Philip can’t hear us.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “So he didn’t even try to kiss you?”

  I remove the last few plates from the dinner table. “No. He didn’t kiss me . . . on my lips.” I trail the last part of my sentence hoping she won’t catch it.

  She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “Come on! I’m dying here!”

  “He gave me a hug, okay?” I quietly mutter. “And he sort of kissed my forehead.” I shrug it off and continue to fill the dishwasher. “Remember, you can’t say anything to anyone about this – especially not my brother. Got it? He’s already freaking out as it is!”

  She twists her fingers over her lips and then cracks a cocky smile at me.

  My attention is diverted when I hear the official start of the game. One by one, the players are announced, and when they name shortstop Cole McGuire, I find myself grinning from ear to ear.

  Megan is no idiot – she can read me like a book. She turns on the water in the sink, drowning out the sound of our voices. “Kenny, this is going to sound crazy, but I have a sinking suspicion that your friend Cole is actually Cole McGuire. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

  I won’t lie to her. But I’m not ready to tell her the truth and risk her telling my brother. “Megan, do you mind if I . . .”

  “Go!” she interrupts me, shaking her head. “Go watch the game. I’ve got this.” She pushes me out of the kitchen and into the living room. As I walk away, I can hear her mumbling something under her breath that sounds an awful lot like “holy shit”.

  I sweep up Connor into my arms and settle myself on the armchair. The only baseball games I ever watched were when Philip was in Little League. I never paid attention – I’d just sit there with a book and wait for the game to end. I never really cared about baseball. Until now, that is.

  “I’m watching the game, so don’t ask me if you can change the channel,” Philip warns.

  “Mind if I watch it with you?” I ask.

  “Not at all.”

  Together we sit for the next three hours watching the Red Hawks take on the Milwaukee Brewers. I watch in agony as Cole gets on base twice, but his teammates fail to bring him home both times. In the end, the Red Hawks lose three to two.

  By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, having only slept for a few hours last night. Luckily, Cait and Brie are out for the night and the house is quiet. I crawl into bed and drift into a deep sleep, dreaming of playing an innocent game of catch with Point Pleasant’s most eligible bachelor.

  In the middle of our back-and-forth little game, I am awakened by my cell phone rattling on my nightstand. I look at the number, but the screen reads, “UNKNOWN.” I ignore the call – it’s probably a wrong number.

  While the dream is fresh in my mind, I decide to write it down. I’ve been having such strange and unusual dreams lately, I can’t help but wonder what some of them mean. I jot down words like baseball, catch, ballpark, and glove and decide to look them up later.

  I slide the notepad and pen back into my nightstand drawer and my phone goes off again, this time with an incoming text message. I glance at the screen and now there’s a photo of a Kindle screen illuminated brightly. A large man’s hand is pointing to the title displayed on the top of the screen. I’d know that hand anywhere. It’s Cole.

  As I look more closely, I can make out the scene in the background. There’s a white fluffy comforter and I think I see the outline of a bedpost. He’s in bed. Texting me.

  Immediately, my heart begins to flutter. I text him back.

  Me: Who is this?

  I don’t want to let on that I know it’s him.

  Cole: Just some guy reading your book ... and really enjoying it.

  Me: What chapter are you on?

  Cole: Liam just finished sweeping Suzi’s chimney

  Me: What?

  Cole: You know –they did the Monster Mash

  Cole: Doing the No Pants Dance

  Me: Oh!

  Cole: They did the Horizontal Hula

  Me: Ok. Ok. You can stop now.

  Cole: Suzi went for a ride on the bologna pony.

  Me: ENOUGH. Got it.

  I type it in all capital letters hoping he will get my point, because I sure as hell got his!

  Cole: Wish I could tell you how much I’m enjoying your book.

  I wait a moment or two and then type back.

  Me: You can tell me what you thought in the morning.

  Cole: Suppose I can’t wait that long?

  Me: Sorry, Stretch. I’m tucked in for the night.

  Cole: Bummer. Breakfast?

  Me: Sure

  Cole: at 8?

  Me: Yup. Good night.

  Cole: Night ;-)

  I put down the phone, smile to myself, and wonder . . . what would have happened if I told him to come over?

  CHAPTER 9

  TITLEWAVE IS BUSY FOR A TUESDAY MORNING. Brie opened the doors to the bookstore and turned on the lights for me. There’s a few patrons browsing the magazine rack, which we moved closer to the coffee bar a few days ago.

  Behind the counter, Brie is hustling to get the line moving along. I find an open spot and lean in. “Morning, Brie!”

  She peers over her shoulder and smiles as she continues to blend the Frappuccino. “Hey, girl. Table Twelve.” She nods towards the outdoor seating area.

  Lo and behold, sitting at what I have begun to think of as our table is Cole. “Thanks,” I tell her as she waves me off. I know when I’m being dismissed, so I slowly walk towards the spot that is currently occupied by Cole.

  Stopping just feet from our table, I almost completely lose my nerve and consider running to hide in my office. What will he say when I arrive?

  You know, I loved that part where Suzi went down on Liam. You must have done a lot of research on the subject.

  How will I look him in the eye? The butterflies in my stomach go wild.

  Megan, Brie, and Cait have all read my books. I’ve had long conversations with them while we drained countless bottles of wine and dished about some of our deepest, darkest fantasies. As a result, a few of their ideas have made their way onto the pages of my novels.

  Declan read both books before going to print, too. Even he had a few suggestions, but for some reason I didn’t mind listening to his point of view. When Liam got overly romantic and cheesy, Declan made it a point to tell me how unrealistic my imaginings were. So with his input I made a few more changes and additions.

  But I have never, ever, discussed my books with Philip. And to the best of my knowledge, Philip has no interest whatsoever in reading what I have to say about love, relationships, and sex. I can’t say that I blame him, either.

  Bolstering myself against nerves, I throw my shoulders back and head for our table. When Cole spots me, he pulls out the chair beside him. As I sit, he leaves his arm draped around the chair and around me. Sitting in front of me is a small assortment of pastries and a hot cup of coffee. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat today, so I grabbed us a few things that looked good.”

  I smile. Us – he just said us.

  “No, this is great.” I pick through them and select a sinfully delicious blueberry muffin with large, crunchy sugar crystals glistening on top that seems to be calling my name.

  We sit quietly enjoying our breakfast together. Cole flips through the paper while I read some of my favorite book blogs. All the while, Cole’s arm hasn’t left the back of my chair and occasionally he plays with a lock of my hair, mindlessly twisting it around his finger.

  It occurs to me how strange it is that we are so completely comfortable with each other this quickly. Neither one of us feels the need to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation. It feels so normal and casual, it’s almost . . . domestic.

  A sudden desire arises for me to rest my hand on his knee, as lovers would do; as I have done many, many times before with Trent. But th
at is not the kind of relationship Cole and I have crafted. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point with him and I’m not about to blur the lines, send the wrong message, and destroy this . . . whatever it may be. So instead, I grab a hold of my coffee cup with one hand and swipe through the blog pages with the other.

  Cole breaks the silence first, putting down the paper, and smiling. “I have a confession to make,” he declares. “I didn’t really understand why so many women enjoy reading romance novels, but now – I get it.”

  Relieved, I smile. “So, you liked it?”

  He nods. “I do. It isn’t all flowery romance. It’s got suspense and drama, too. I had no idea that women’s fiction could be so complicated. I always thought it would be filled with one-dimensional characters and predictable plots. But you’ve inserted some unexpected twists and turns in there, too.”

  A sense of pride washes over me. He’s gotten out of it the very thing I was hoping for – complexity and suspense. “I’m so glad.” All too quickly, that sense of joy is replaced with grief. I have so many ideas just waiting to be brought to life, it makes me sad to think that my days as a writer are behind me.

  “Then why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?” he asks.

  I take in a deep breath and exhale roughly. “No reason,” I lie. “Sometimes I miss it. But not enough to put my life on the line again.”

  Cole gently rubs my back, letting me know that he understands my pain. His touch is both relaxing and soothing. I don’t dare look up, but I can sense that he’s looking at me, watching and testing my reaction to him.

  Cole’s voice pulls me from the haze. “Listen, I know it’s early, but I have to go. I have to go let Evan’s dog out. He and Juliette went away for a few days.” He gathers our things and I walk him to the boardwalk entrance.

  He looks down at me with a beaming smile and wraps his arms around my shoulders to give me a quick hug. “I’ll call you.” Cole inhales deeply and steps back to release me. He runs his eyes down my body; his eyes seem to linger until my voice distracts him.