Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  The bell on the door chimes as it swings open and in walks Declan dressed handsomely in a sports jacket and a plaid button-down shirt. He scans the diner searching for me, and smiles when he spots me. His smile makes my heart sing. It’s like coming home.

  He scoots into the booth across from me, and the waitress wastes no time in scurrying over. She pours Declan a glass of water and asks if we would like to look at a menu. “What’s the soup of the day?” he asks.

  As soon as he learns it’s chicken noodle, he insists on ordering some for each of us. I let Declan tell me all about his morning on the road while we wait for our lunch.

  Our soup arrives piping hot and smelling scrumptious. One spoonful at a time, I tell Declan about my visit with Sandra Davis. I tell him about her black eye, her warnings, and her advice. He listens without interrupting me a single time. He just lets me talk until I have no words left.

  “I know you’re waiting for me to tell you what to do, Kenny, but I can’t do that for you. I’ve never been in your situation. I understand your need to protect Cole, but frankly, I wish you would worry more about protecting yourself first and foremost.”

  I shrug. He’s right, I suppose. “But what kind of person would I be if I ignored her warning? How could I live with myself if anything happened to Cole and I did nothing to prevent it?”

  “Cole isn’t a child that needs protection. He can take care of himself. Give him a chance and let him decide what he wants to do,” Declan counters. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

  I shake my head. “You and I both know that if I confess everything like you think I should, he will insist, no demand, on taking things into his own hands. He would never in a million years let me walk away just to protect his own ass. And everything inside of me is screaming at me, telling me to remove him from this fucked up situation before the sun sets.”

  He sits quietly and ruminates on my confession for a full minute before he responds. “It sounds like you know what you want to do.”

  “What I want is for Paul Marks to drop off the face of the Earth and leave me alone. But until I can find a way to make that happen, I feel like I have no choice.”

  “You’re going to break up with Cole, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. No. Maybe.” I throw my head into my hands, and admit, “I don’t know.”

  “You know what would piss Cole off the most and maybe even get him to break up with you?”

  I look up into his soulful blue eyes. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Declan smiles. “Run away with me. I have a week’s vacation coming up. We could take a cruise to the Caribbean, to Alaska, hell – I don’t know where. We’d get separate cabins, but Cole doesn’t have to know that. Let his imagination run away with him. Pun completely intended.”

  He’s so sweet. I know he’s kidding, but I also know that if I accepted his offer, he’d waste no time finding us two cabins on a ship taking us far, far away.

  “Gimme twenty-four hours to think about it, Dec. Let me do this my way for now. And if I think I need to get out of town for a few days, you will be the first one I call.”

  “So what’s next?”

  “I guess I enjoy one last night with Cole and find a way to break up with him at the same time.”

  CHAPTER 33

  I LOOK OVER THE CHECKLIST I’VE SCRIBBLED on the back of an old receipt. It looks good. It looks complete.

  ✔Dinner. I want watch him in his kitchen cooking for me.

  ✔Dancing. I want to recreate our first dance together in Hawaii.

  ✔Dessert. I want him to take me to Rush for dessert (and to say goodbye to his family).

  ✔Make Love. I don’t want to fuck. I don’t want to have sex. I want to feel his love pour into me one last time.

  The only question left is how do I pull it off? Will I be able to break up with him after the special night I have planned for us? I just don’t know, only time will tell. All this indecision is making my head hurt.

  Cole promises to pick up something for dinner on his way home from Adam’s and just like that, my plans are set in motion.

  I pour myself a big glass of Pinot Grigio and fill the tub with the hottest water I can tolerate.

  This is perhaps one of the best perks of owning an older home – my clawfoot tub. Once it’s filled, I drop in a bath bomb and watch as it dissolves and shoots out foam in colors that remind me of a twilight sunset, making the water frothy and filling the air with a fresh citrus aroma.

  I push all my thoughts to the side as I watch it ooze, creating colorful patterns in the water. The fizzing sound it releases is captivating. I stick a toe in it and slowly lower myself into the tangerine colored water. The combination of aromas, luster, and oils are a delight to the senses on this otherwise crappy day.

  Nearly an hour later, I slip out of the tub and scurry into my room with pruney fingers and try to decide what to wear. I am so relaxed; it’s tempting to slip on a pair of sweatpants and a soft shirt. But comfy clothes do not suit my plans.

  Instead, I find the matching bra and panty set the Cole bought for me nearly a month ago. Has it only been a month? So much has changed in that short time. It feels like my life before him was a lifetime ago. How difficult will it be to return to that life?

  It’s a short drive to Cole’s house. The building’s guest lot is full and I have to park on one of the side streets. I lock up the car and make my way to the boardwalk. The rain ended hours ago and the sky has cleared hours ago. I only wish my mind would clear, too.

  The closer I get to the boardwalk, the louder the music gets. It’s too early to be coming from Wilkinson’s. Their nightclub music starts up after dark. Besides, this isn’t exactly their type of music. I listen a little more closely, and I begin to recognize the smooth dulcet tones of The Chairman of the Board, Ol’ Blue Eyes, the Voice, Frank Sinatra. He’s crooning about “Strangers in the Night” and I’m transported to a different time and place.

  The music should be dying down as I get closer to Cole’s townhouse, but instead it’s getting louder. When I reach a sprawling tan and brown beach house with a wrap around porch, I find the source. There’s no one in sight, yet the music blares. The song ends and rolls right into another, “Come Fly With Me”.

  It’s the music of the Big Band and Jazz era, during a time when life was much simpler and singers of the day sang of ideals, dreams and hopes for the future, and I can’t help but get wrapped up in the words and melodies. I am drawn to the words; the sweet, romantic words. They stand out like a beacon of hope — a tall lighthouse shining in the distance when there’s nothing around but miles and miles of ocean.

  I hold onto those thoughts as I approach the townhouse. Cole is standing on his balcony. He doesn’t see me and I get a chance to appreciate the view. God, he’s tall. His T-shirt stretches across his biceps, showing off his amazing arms. Arms that I love to feel wrapped around me. His shirt is tucked into his shorts, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. And from here, I can just barely make out his sharp jaw and finely sculptured features, framed by a messy mop of blonde waves. And all I can think about is running my fingers through those tangles and drawing sounds of pleasure from him as I do.

  I let myself in using the keys he gave to me a few days ago. It’s the first time I’m using them, and I wonder if it will be the last.

  Slowly, I climb the stairs. Cole is still relaxing out on the balcony. He’s got a beer in his hand and he’s rocking out to some classic Black Sabbath and singing along to the chorus of “Iron Man”. I’m completely entranced.

  Then he spots me and grins, his eyes alight with playful, carefree excitement. Oh boy. . . he looks happy — and so beautiful. Not wanting to let a moment go to waste, I scurry out to him and wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. I weave my fingers through his waistband and under his shirt, and splay my fingers across the tight skin of his back.

  Cole wraps his long arms around me and holds tight, too. He inhales deeply
. “God, you smell good.”

  I smack him on the ass. “Don’t you burn my dinner, Stretch.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” he retorts. “Let’s go check.”

  I follow as Cole leads us back inside, hand-in-hand. There’s a pot of tomato sauce stewing on the stove and a pot of water just beginning to boil beside it. He hands me a large wooden spoon. “Here. Stir the sauce, please. I’m going to get the pasta started.”

  Hmm. Stirring sauce. I think I can handle that.

  I remove the cover from the simmering pot and stir. Cole stands beside me adding fresh tortellini to the pot of boiling water. I can feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.

  I take the wooden spoon and lift it carefully from the pot, blowing on the spoonful of sauce, cooling it slightly before tasting it. I bring it to my lips and take a small taste, closing my eyes and enjoying the fresh taste.

  His eyes haven’t left me. I refill the spoon, turn and face him, holding my hand beneath it to catch any drips. I blow on it once or twice. Lifting the spoon to his mouth, I offer him a sample, “Here, taste,” and I feed him. He places his hand on my waist and opens his mouth just enough to taste. There is nothing sexier than feeding a man. But not just any man – my man.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s good. What do you think?”

  “It’s pretty hot. Should I turn it off?” I ask.

  “Hell, no. I like it hot. The hotter the better if you ask me.” He looks at me with a paralyzing heat in his eyes.

  Why do I suddenly get the feeling we’re no longer talking about food?

  “In or out?” he asks.

  “Excuse me?”

  “In or out,” he repeats. “Where do you want to eat? The pasta only takes a minute or two to heat up.”

  Ha! “Um, outside, I guess.”

  Cole asks me to set the table outside while he gets everything plated. He brings out a bowl of the biggest meatballs I’ve ever seen in my life. I swear, they’re the size of baseballs. Once the pasta and sauce are on the table, we sit down to eat.

  Cole pulls out a chair for me, offering me the perfect view of the ocean. He sits beside me and slides his legs underneath mine. We take turns helping ourselves. I don’t know how I’m going to finish the solitary meatball I have on my plate. Cole, on the other hand, sure likes to eat. He fills his plate so that every single inch of it is covered with food. Man, this boy can eat.

  I wonder if he eats this much off-season. I wish I could be around long enough to find out.

  The conversation turns to work. I tell him how excited Megan is to help me expand my children’s section and about how many great ideas she has to create a reading nook where kids can come, sit, and read.

  I try to listen as Cole talks about his upcoming games. But frankly, I’m very distracted. If I have to run, who’s going to take over the bookstore? Would Megan do it? Would she give up her teaching job? Maybe she would. She could even bring Connor to the shop. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about finding daycare. She could turn the office into a nursery. Cait and Brie wouldn’t mind. Probably.

  “So, what do you think?” he asks.

  I look up puzzled. Damn mind wandering. “I guess so,” I answer.

  He shakes his head. “You have no idea what I just said, do you?”

  I chuckle. “No, sorry about that. What were you saying?”

  “Nothing important.” He leans back in his chair and stretches his long arms. He has just polished off a plate full of meatballs and scarfed down the last tortellini. “More wine?” he asks.

  I nod and Cole refills my wine glass. He rests his arm on the back of my chair and touches my bare shoulder with the pad of this thumb. My halter-top gives him full access to lots of skin and I just knew he wouldn’t be able to resist such an open invitation. Slowly, he traces tiny patterns across my flesh. The sensation sends millions of tiny impulses through my body, right to my core.

  He smiles that sexy grin at me— the one that makes my pulse race— while his fingers drift over my skin. Dizzying arousal shoots through my body from his touch. My mind quickly wanders with other visions of how his strong hands could grip my hips. I try to remind myself not to rush things too quickly. Tonight needs to be perfect.

  We sit together and talk for over an hour. The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky and the beach goers have mostly left and gone home, leaving the seagulls to clean up after them.

  “You know, I got a call from Noah,” Cole tells me. “He was rambling on about how smart and beautiful you are, and how I finally found someone who’s worth my time. Apparently Reed and Hugh feel the same way.”

  “I’m glad they like me. I really enjoyed spending time with them, too.” I move so that he can’t see my true reaction. I don’t want him to see the pain in my eyes when he talks about things like family. I stand behind him and rub his shoulders while we talk.

  “You’ve won them over, that’s for sure.” He reaches up and squeezes my hand. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “No,” I whisper in his ear. “How much?”

  “Let me show you,” he whispers. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap, softly kissing my lips, once, twice, before his wet mouth moves with mine.

  I curl and twist my fingers in his hair, pulling sounds of contentment from him.

  He lets me sit on his lap and play with his hair while he talks. I love listening to him talk about his job. He loves baseball so much, and I cannot imagine him doing anything else. “What do you love the most about baseball?” I ask.

  “Oh, that’s easy – there is literally nothing better in this world than Opening Day. And I’m not even exaggerating. The ballpark is a sold-out crowd, and the fans are more rowdy than usual. The cheering, the laughter and the sheer enjoyment that everyone feels is almost intoxicating. You can't help but be swept up into the excitement.”

  Being a woman, I happen to have a special appreciation for a man in uniform. Old school and extremely cool, there are entire Tumblr pages and Twitters dedicated to boys in baseball pants, and there is a reason why.

  But there’s one more reason to appreciate baseball. There is no sport that values history as much as baseball does. Every season, records are set and crushed. There is always history in the making with baseball—and you always get to be part of that history.

  Our conversation is interrupted when he gets a text from his cousin Evan, and the two strike up a conversation about tomorrow’s game. And it sounds like Evan’s preseason is about to begin, sending him out to training camp in Florida soon.

  I climb off his lap and walk over to the railing to watch the surf rise and fall. I contemplate the chain of events that led me here, when suddenly I feel Cole’s arm around my waist as he peppers kisses along my shoulder. “I love you,” he whispers in my ear.

  I turn around, stand up on my tiptoes, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I know. I love you, too.” I bury my nose in his neck and just linger there, nuzzling the soft flesh.

  “Come on, Houdini. Let’s clean up.”

  Because of Cole’s appetite, there’s not much cleaning up to do. We have the dishwasher filled and the table cleared in no time. “Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful. You really are a great cook.”

  “That’s only because you’re so easy to impress,” he smiles. “Seriously, Kenny. Anyone can heat up a pot of sauce or boil water.” I look into his eyes and concentrate. I want to remember this moment. I wish I could take a picture so that I can hold onto tonight long after it’s over. After all of this is over.

  “Hungry?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  I can’t tell if he’s talking about food or something else. “Do you know anyplace that makes a good cheesecake?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No way! I never joke about cheesecake. What’s Evan doing tonight? Maybe he and Juliette would like to join us.”

  “We’re still talking about dessert, right?”

  I snap the damp towel I’m hold
ing and it smacks him right in the leg. “Ew! Don’t be gross.”

  He calls Evan back and sure enough, he and Jette are at Rush. Evan invites us over to try their new orange creamsicle cheesecake.

  We lock up and walk hand-in-hand down the boardwalk. We’re taking my car, which will be much easier to park downtown than Ugly Betty. Much to my surprise, Cole doesn’t even argue one little bit. I think he likes my car more than he’s willing to admit.

  About halfway down, I hear more Sinatra music playing in the distance. “Do you hear that?” I ask Cole. “I think it’s coming from over there.” I point to the tan and brown beach house just a few doors away. “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” is now playing.

  “Of course I hear it,” he smiles. “It’s the Sinatra House.”

  “Seriously? Does the Sinatra family own that house?”

  He laughs. “You never heard of the Sinatra house?”

  I shake my head.

  “All the times you’ve walked down this boardwalk to my place, you never once noticed it always plays Sinatra music?”

  Again I shake my head. “No, not really.”

  We stop right in front of what he calls the Sinatra House. “They’ve been playing Sinatra music here for years. Ever since the owner died, his children come back to open up the house and play music, keeping the tradition alive. It’s nice, don’t you think?”

  “It is,” I agree.

  Cole holds out his hand to me. “Dance?”

  “Here?” I ask. “Cole, I don’t think . . .”

  “First rule of dance is never to refuse a dance,” he grins and steals my hand.

  I give in with a warm smile as he sweeps me up into his strong arms.

  He pulls me against him, one arm wrapped around the small of my back, and takes my hand in his, and begins to sway with the music, dancing me across the boardwalk. He lowers his face next to mine and just barely touches me with his cheek, turns his face, and brushes my cheek with his nose, sending shivers down my spine and through my arms and legs.