“Good luck today,” I tell him.
“Thanks,” he calls back as he walks away.
The rest of the morning goes by in a flash. I call my mother just as I promised Philip I would and lucky for me, she’s in the middle of a meeting. Mom’s current project is to help raise funds to aid ‘Save the Children’, a charity that provides emergency food for Syrian children and supports education in Syrian refugee camps among other things. She’s so caught up in her own project that she hardly has time to give me the fifth degree.
Megan visits me at work early and we get busy ordering enough new stock to create an impressive children’s selection. With the amount of money that I’m spending, I’ll also be getting some cool posters and large cardboard cutouts of Amelia Bedelia, the Cat in the Hat, and Percy Jackson for free.
We take a short break for lunch, but power through the afternoon clearing shelves and finding a new home for the Children’s Lit section.
I’m carrying the last armful of books when my cellphone goes off. I drop the books on the floor in front of Megan and grab the phone from my pocket. “Unknown” appears on the screen. I hope there’s not a problem with the order I just placed.
“Hello?” I answer, concern laced in my voice.
“Hi. Sorry to bother you at work. Are you busy? Can you talk?” It’s Cole.
“No. I mean yes, I can talk.”
Megan is eying me keenly and mouths, “Who is it?”
I cover the phone and whisper, “Cole.” Megan smirks and returns her attention back to the pile of books I’ve just laid before her while I tuck myself in a remote corner of the store.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Okay,” he answers, not offering much in the way of an explanation.
I look down at my wrist to check the time, but in my rush to get here this morning to see Cole, I forgot my watch. “What time is it?”
“A little after three,” he offers.
“So what are you doing?” I imagine he’s just come in from the practice field and is settling down to cool off before the game. I wonder if he’s showered yet. I imagined him getting undressed . . . the light hairs on his stomach peeking above an elastic band. I shake the thought from my mind.
“I’m in the clubhouse. Just got in from practice.” I don’t hear any noise in the background. I wonder where all the other guys are.
“Hmm. Did you have a good practice?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“It was all right, I guess. Could have been better.” The tone of his voice is off— way off. I can tell he is upset.
“Cole, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” I begin to pace, worried with concern. My first thought is panic – an indescribable fear that he’s been hurt. “Something is wrong.”
He sighs. “How can you tell?” He sounds surprised that I can read him like that.
“I just can. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’ll be all right. I just couldn’t get any good hits at practice today. I know everybody has bad days, but mine usually end up with me being traded to a new team.” His voice trembles slightly, and I can tell that he’s most certainly not all right.
I take a deep breath, relieved that he’s not injured, but still upset. I can picture him huddled up in a big leather club chair with his head between his arms, completely distraught. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I listen as he blows air into his phone. “Nah, I don’t know if talking about it will make a difference,” he mutters.
He and I are so much alike. Now it’s his turn to sit there feeling sorry for himself.
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah, I’ve got about five minutes before everyone else gets in here.”
“Good, let’s try something. Close your eyes . . . and relax. Just listen to my voice. Take a deep breath . . . Let it out . . . Just breathe.” I want so badly to take his worries away. I wish I could reach through the phone and comfort him like he comforted me this morning.
“You’re back in Hawaii, walking along the sandy white beach. You can feel the warm sand between your toes . . . ” I pause to let him soak the imagery in.
“There’s a cool mist carried by the ocean breeze sweeping across your face . . . you hear the sound of the waves beating against the shore as it echoes in the air . . . you stare off into the distance . . . you see that the sun is beginning to sink into the horizon. The sky is turning brilliant colors of red, orange, and yellow . . . while the sun sets, sinking down . . . down into the horizon.”
“You fill your lungs with the crisp ocean air . . . and you let out a big sigh . . . relaxing into the moment . . . letting everything else melt away . . . right now, in this moment . . . you are completely content.”
A soft “Mmm” slips from his throat. “This is nice.”
“What’s nice?” I breathe out.
“This . . . feeling at peace . . . you.”
“Hmm,” I softly sigh into the phone, happy to know my words helped him relax.
“I wish I was there with you,” he whispers.
“I wish you were here, too,” I whisper softly. After the words come out of my mouth, there’s no taking them back. But it doesn’t matter – I don’t want to take them back. My words came from my heart and not my head. Part of me hopes he really meant what he’d said.
The silence we share is abruptly shattered when I hear a loud commotion on the other end of the phone. The clubhouse is suddenly filling up with the rest of the Red Hawks team, signaling the official end of today’s practice. Cole makes a promise to call me after the game.
I feel happiness radiating from me as my heart begins to glow with peace and contentment. It’s not something I can hide and Megan spots it the moment she sees me.
“You’ve got it bad,” she remarks as I step closer.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
Brie and Cait are out on the town again tonight, leaving me alone in my big, empty house. I pick up the phone and chance a call to Declan.
“Hey Kentucky. What’s shakin, bacon?”
He makes me smile. “Oh, nothing much. Just sitting here alone. Feeling a little sorry for myself. That’s all.”
“You know, you could get in that car of yours and come hang out with me,” he suggests. “We’d have the apartment to ourselves. Jesse is hanging at his girlfriend’s place. We could Netflix and chill.”
“Ew. Declan! What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry. Just kidding. But if you want, we could rent a movie and hang out. I’d even let you pick it out. Just nothing with Channing Tatum or Ryan Gosling. I don’t want you to get any funny ideas.”
“I don’t think so.”
There’s a moment of silence on the phone. “You know, I just realized something?”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“You haven’t been up to my place since you left your apartment, have you?”
“Nope.”
“That’s okay. I get it – keeping a low profile and stuff. Why don’t you tell me about Ole King Cole? I hear you’ve been spending some time together lately.”
Declan lets me talk for almost an hour. God, I miss having him around. Everything is just so easy with Declan. It always has been.
After we get off the phone, I make myself a drink and plop down in front of the television to watch tonight’s match up between the Red Hawks and the Brewers. The Red Hawks lost last night and I’m hoping their luck will change.
Cole calls me exactly at midnight. “Did you see the game?” he asks excitedly. I can tell his mood has greatly improved.
“No, sorry, I missed it,” I lie. I try to sound as convincing as possible. “How did it go? Did you get any hits?”
Cole laughs at me. “You’re such a terrible liar.”
I chuckle. “Okay, maybe I saw a little bit of the game, but I definitely did not see you hit that homerun and I completely missed it when you made that double play.”
“And I suppose you’re thinking that
I owe you some debt of gratitude for helping me get my head in the right place?”
“Wow. I wasn’t before, but since you put it that way, I guess you do owe me – big time. So tell me Stretch, how are you going to pay me back?”
“I have an early game tomorrow, then I’m off for two days. I’d really like to see you . . . that is, if you don’t already have plans with that special man in your life,” Cole teases. I note the tone of sarcasm in his voice.
As much as I want to refuse him and protect myself, I no longer have the will to do so. I can’t deny this powerful attraction to him any longer. “What did you have in mind?”
“Find someone to cover for you at work, because I plan on showing you the best the Jersey Shore has to offer.”
“The best the Jersey Shore has to offer? What are you, working for the tourism board?”
“Yes, exactly that. Come to the Jersey Shore – Better Than It Was Before,” he says, game show voice style.
“Well now, that’s just wrong,” I say with a laugh. “Tell me, what are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise, but you’ll get wet, so wear a bathing suit, please.”
“A bathing suit?”
“Notice I said please. But if at all possible, I’d prefer it to be something skimpy and perhaps even see through.”
“Cole!”
“Kidding,” he says, then mumbles an almost imperceptible, “not.”
“Coooole,” I warn once more.
“Okay, the suit is a definite, but the skimpy is optional.”
“Uh-huh, thanks,” I say, wondering what he’s up to.
“We’ll leave right after breakfast. Bring a change of clothes, too.”
“Okay, bossy. And mysterious. You’re being bossy and mysterious,” I say.
“And cute. You forgot cute,” he prompts.
“I can’t see you. How do I know you’re cute?” I tease.
“Oh, you know I am,” he insists.
I blow him a raspberry, and hang up listening to him laugh.
Smiling, I lay back in bed and look up at the ceiling. What am I getting myself into?
On Wednesday, Cole’s got an early call to practice and can’t stay long for breakfast, but he calls me after his game to check in and make sure I’m not backing out of tomorrow’s outing. Each time I try to pry information out of him, but each time he shoots me down.
The only thing I accomplish is a promise from Cole that he will not be taking me to anyplace that is crowded or out in public with his quarterback cousin, Evan. Neither one would be smart and frankly, I’m just not ready.
There’s no time to fixate because the first shipment of books arrives just before lunchtime. Cait eagerly helps to design the perfect display. There’s a real science to creating store displays – merchandising, she calls it, and I let her take complete control.
“Um, Cait – can I ask you a favor?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s going on?”
Cait is not an early bird, and I hate to ask, but I really don’t have a choice. Brie can’t do it all by herself and I need someone to cover for me tomorrow if I have any chance of taking the day off. “Can you open for me tomorrow morning? I know you don’t like to do mornings, but I kind of have plans.”
“Plans?” she asks. “That sounds so cryptic. I’ll cover, but first you have to spill. What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Cole is taking me out for the afternoon – that’s all I know.” I decide to withhold the bathing suit criterion. She doesn’t need every small detail.
She stops what she’s doing and grabs me, shaking my shoulders. “Kenny, you bitch! You’re going out on a date. When were you going to tell me?”
“It’s not a date,” I correct her. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a date.”
She looks at me like I’m speaking Greek.
“I don’t know what it is, Cait. All I know is that I really like Cole and I enjoy spending time with him.”
Cait releases me and smiles. “That’s all that really matters, honey. You can figure out what to call it later. Just leave me a list of what you do when you open and I’ll be fine.”
When I get home later that night, I sit down to write my to-do list, itemizing all the things that I do throughout the day. Another shipment of children’s books is due tomorrow and Cait will have her hands full.
Once that’s done, I rifle through my closet, trying select an outfit for tomorrow. It’s so hard to decide not knowing what we’ll be doing. Do I choose something casual or something sexy? What message do I want to send?
Maybe just a pair of skimpy jean shorts and a cute little tank top would be best.
Now what to wear beneath? After taking a quick look at my bathing suits— which are mostly skimpy, let’s face it— I eliminate the basic black and bright white bikinis. Both look too much like sexy lingerie. After careful deliberation, I finally settle upon a coral pink bikini that has mesh inserts on the hips, covering up and revealing at the same time.
I lay out my clothes for the morning and head downstairs to pour myself a glass of wine and finish my list for Cait. I plop myself down in front of the television and find one of my favorite movies has just begun, “The Devil Wears Prada”. One of the things I like best about the movie is the soundtrack.
I stay up until close to midnight sipping my wine, singing some tunes, and doodling on my note to Cait. When the movie ends, I collect my things and notice that on the bottom of the paper, I’ve written ‘Cole’. On my to-do list.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter to myself. Still smiling as my phone goes off with a new message. It’s from Cole.
Cole writes: Don’t forget – tomorrow you’re all mine.
I stare at the screen, thinking about his words over and over again until I finally drift off to sleep. So much for not blurring the lines.
CHAPTER 10
I’M SITTING ON THE SWING ON MY FRONT PORCH READING when Cole pulls up in his pickup truck. He flings open the door and jumps out, walking towards me wearing long blue swim trunks, a vintage surf tee, and an unzipped fleece—ready for a day on the water. I can’t tear my eyes from those legs of his that are tanned and oh so long.
“Morning!” he calls, smiling brightly. “You ready for a day of sun and sea?”
“Sure,” I say to his legs, then force my eyes toward his face. What a hardship that is.
He walks up to the porch and grabs the beach bag I’ve packed for the day, heaving it over his shoulder. “What did you pack in here? Bricks?” he laughs, tossing my bag into the bed of the truck with a loud thwack.
“Listen, Stretch – don’t complain. I had to pack for all sorts of possibilities. You’re the one who won’t tell me where we’re going. Or what time we’ll be back.”
“Trust me. I think we need to get you out of this town and away from the crowds. And I promise to have you back in time for bed,” he says, pulling me toward the passenger side.
But whose bed, I mutter as he packs me in and shuts the door. Peering through the side mirror, I catch sight of him running around to his side, shaking his head and grinning.
Cole throws the truck into gear and heads away from the beach. Almost immediately, Phil Collin’s classic, I Can Feel It In The Air Tonight, is playing on the radio. He air drums right along with the drum solo, glancing over and smiling at me every so often, relaxed and happy as a clam.
That makes two of us.
I decide that nothing ventured, nothing gained. So when we pull into Cozy Cove Marina in neighboring Mantoloking and I see all the beautiful watercrafts docked in tight rows overlooking the expansive Barnegat Bay, I realize that spending time away from TitleWave could be a very good thing. I take a moment to breathe in all that good salty air.
Cole climbs out of the truck and comes around to my side while I hang out the open window like a Labrador retriever, just sniffing and smelling.
Leaning on my door, he looks at me carefully. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s totally o
kay with me. We’ll hang on the beach, maybe take a drive— we can do whatever you want to do.”
I look past him at the picturesque cove and the beautiful day and say, “If you’re taking me out in one of those boats, I’m in!”
“Great! Let’s get go find Derek,” he says, helping me out and grabbing our bags.
“Derek?” I ask.
“Derek Lattimer. He’s a good friend of mine and Evan’s. He recently came into some money and he bought a pleasure boat. For months, he’s been bugging me to go out on the boat with him and his fiancée Shea, but I could never find the time.”
Sometimes I forget that Cole has a life outside of our small existence on the boardwalk and his big life on the baseball field. He has a life full of friends and family that I know nothing about.
Cole places his hand on my lower back and guides me down towards the docks. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the way his big, strong hand fits perfectly in that spot. It feels so nice that I would let him walk me all the way home, so long as he leaves his hand exactly where it is right now.
All too soon, he stops us in front of an impressive boat and tosses our bags onto the deck. He hops down first and motions for me to join him. He holds out both hands and places them on my waist. I hold onto his shoulders as he effortlessly lifts me aboard.
We look around, but Derek doesn’t seem to be here. “Are you sure we’re on the right boat?” I ask.
He smirks. “Yeah, I’m sure. There can’t be more than one boat with that name,” he explains.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the name printed on the stern when we arrived. “What’s the name of the boat?” I ask, intensely curious.
“Wet Spot,” he tells me. “Derek thinks it’s hysterical.”
“Really? I think it’s disgusting,” I tell him. What kind of a man would name his boat something so inappropriate and tasteless?
“It’s not what you think,” Cole quickly explains. “He’s a bartender and a Wet Spot is a drink. It’s actually one of his specialty drinks. You should ask Derek to make you one.”
Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1) Page 13