“Want to head back to my place?” Rob asks the group. “My roommate is out of town. We can have a few drinks or something.”
When Sawyer looks over at me, I give him a punishing stare, making my answer crystal clear.
Sawyer is a nice guy. Like me, I think he’s wary of women and their intentions. But he takes it to the extreme. Instead of a three-strikes rule – his dates never get past one.
“Come on, man. One drink,” he pleads.
It’s not that I think he necessarily cares about hooking up with the girl he’s with, I just think he’s trying to appease his cousin. Rob is in the construction business and he renovated Sawyer’s townhouse for barely more than cost when Sawyer moved here two years ago.
“Fine. One.”
Brandy, my … uh, date, claps her hands and squirms in her chair, apparently excited that the night isn’t going to end after dinner. “Maybe we should go back to your place, Caden. Rob’s is hardly big enough to hold all of us.”
I refrain from looking at Sawyer, because I know we’ll start laughing if I do. I don’t take girls to my place. Lexi and a few of her good friends, they are the only females who have ever been there. I’m very protective of my privacy. “It’s not clean. Better not.”
Brandy brushes off my comments. “Who cares about that? It’s not like we’re going to see your bedroom with your skivvies all over the floor.” She leans over to me and whispers, “Not unless you want me to.”
I look at Rob, who thankfully reads my expression and saves me from Brandy. “My place is just around the corner. We’ll go there. And it’s clean,” he says, shrugging an apology at me.
I take my ball cap out of my back pocket and put it on my head when we leave the restaurant. Sawyer does the same. Even though it’s clearly a Hawks hat—I mean what else would we wear—it does provide some camouflage if we pull it down low enough over our foreheads.
Brandy plucks the hat from my head and puts it on her own. “Can I have it?”
I study her for a second, thinking how it doesn’t look that good on her with her poufy hair. I carefully remove it from her head and return it to mine, pulling it down low. “I’d really like to wear it myself if you don’t mind.”
I think about last Saturday night and how I gave Murphy my hat. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a girl look so natural, and … so fucking amazing wearing one. There’s nothing natural about Brandy. Not her lips, not her voice, not her tits that are practically falling out of her dress. And there is definitely nothing amazing about her.
I need to text Murphy. Find out how her first day at the gym went. I hope she likes it there. Mason did me a real solid hiring her. They were in a bind and needed someone immediately. I talked him into getting someone from a temp agency until Murphy could start. For all I know, she might hate it. It’s far from a modeling gig. But the people there are great. It’s where I work out in the off-season.
“Oh, my God, Caden Kessler!” a woman squeals as she passes us in the other direction. “And, holy shit, Sawyer Mills!” The girl backtracks and runs to stand in front of us. “Can I please get a picture with you? My brother would freak out. He’s a huge fan. I mean, I’m a huge fan, too. But he’s like your biggest fan.”
I look at Sawyer and he nods. Both of us are pretty good at fan interaction. I don’t mind signing autographs and taking pictures as long as everyone remains calm. Sometimes, though, it can get out of hand, like now, on a crowded Friday night. I glance around and hope nobody heard her yell our names. I see a few onlookers, but nobody else is approaching us.
“Sure, we can do a quick picture,” I say.
The girl moves to stand between Sawyer and me, giddy with excitement.
“Uh.” The friend who is aiming her phone at us looks to my right. “Would you mind stepping out of the picture please?”
I look to see that Brandy is still standing next to me—hovering. She pouts before moving out of the way. But as soon as the girl thanks us, Brandy comes right back over and threads her arm around my elbow, as if claiming me.
“Are you Caden’s girlfriend?” the fan asks nicely.
“I am tonight,” Brandy says proudly.
I have to keep my jaw from dropping at her temerity. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” I announce. “Brandy is my date.”
“Well, thank you,” the girl says, before walking away and giggling with her friends.
I start walking. “Come on, let’s go before a crowd gathers.”
When we get to Rob’s place, Brandy raids the kitchen, coming out with all the alcohol she can carry. “You guys up for a game?” she asks.
Sawyer looks at me skeptically. “What did you have in mind?” he asks her.
She shrugs. “Whatever you want. Truth or Dare, Quarters, Strip Poker.”
What are we—sixteen?
Rob gives his girlfriend, Kayla, a scolding look. She finally speaks up. “Brandy, would you quit it. They are not playing Strip Poker with you. I’m not playing Strip Poker with you. What’s with you tonight, anyway?”
“She’s drunk,” Kayla’s other friend says. “And she stupidly took a Xanax earlier to chill out because she was nervous about meeting Caden and Sawyer.”
“Was not,” Brandy whines.
I pick up a deck of cards from Rob’s coffee table. “How about just plain old Poker?” I ask.
One drink and an hour later, Sawyer and I get up to leave. Tomorrow we have a double header.
I smile thinking that Murphy and my sister will come watch the second game. Lexi tries to make as many games as she can, but with her job as an assistant to a well-known author, and her two little girls, it seems like her appearances at Hawks Stadium are few and far between.
I told Melanie that the person I hit with my home run ball was coming to another game. I asked her to give Murphy the royal treatment. I know Murphy doesn’t want anything from me, but I figure this being her first Hawks Stadium suite experience, she won’t know the difference.
Brandy walks me to the door and pulls me aside before I can make my escape. “Don’t you want a kiss?” she asks, looking up at me through her eyelashes.
I shake my head. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, so you want a second date?”
“Don’t you live in Oregon or something?”
“No. I’m from Seattle,” she says. “But you never know. If I find a job here, maybe I’ll move to New York.”
“Oh. Well, good luck with your job search, Brandy,” I say, turning to walk through the door.
“You’ll look me up when you’re in Seattle, right?” She pulls out her phone. “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you and then you’ll have mine.”
Not a fuckin’ chance.
“I’m sure Rob or Kayla will be nice enough to provide me with your number if I need it,” I tell her.
Looking dejected, she puts her phone away. Then she leans close and whispers in my ear. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Caden Kessler. Everybody says I’m the best fuck they’ve ever had.”
I pull back, put a hand on her shoulder and look at her with serious eyes. “Wow, Brandy. That’s impressive. I’ll bet if you put that on your resumé, you’ll find a job in no time.”
On the way downstairs, I get out my phone, hoping to see a text from Murphy about her day.
“Do you have a wife in labor that I don’t know about?” Sawyer asks me, motioning to my phone.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’ve been looking at your phone every five minutes all night long, like you’re waiting for someone to call you. Or like maybe you want to call someone.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. “I have not,” I say.
He silently laughs as we hail a cab.
Well, I haven’t.
Have I?
Chapter Fourteen
Murphy
“Thanks again for coming with me,” I tell Lexi as we make our way to the suite in Hawks Stadiu
m. “I don’t have many friends here yet.”
“I’m happy to do it,” she says. “It’s been almost a month since I’ve been to one of Caden’s games, so I was due. Plus, I know what it’s like to be new to the city and not know anyone.”
I laugh. “Oh, I know people. Just not anyone I’d consider a friend.”
“What about Caden? From the way he talks about you, I’d say he’s your friend.”
“Yeah, well, he may just be the only one.”
“Not true,” Lexi says, hooking her arm around my elbow. “Now you have two.”
Lexi Kessler Stone is someone I knew I would like from the moment I saw her. She greeted me with a hug and proceeded to immerse me in conversation as if we’d been long-lost BFFs. Her smile is infectious and welcoming, and although she’s supermodel gorgeous, the way she carries herself is not intimidating in the least.
“Thanks. That means a lot to me,” I say.
“Here it is,” she says, pointing to a sign labeled ‘Suite 19.’ “This is going to be fun.”
I show our tickets to the attendant at the door and we are ushered through into what looks like a swanky cocktail party, only instead of cocktail dresses and suits, the party-goers are all wearing Nighthawks shirts.
I look down at my plain white t-shirt. I thought about wearing the jersey Caden brought me in the hospital, but it was a men’s large and it looked ridiculous on me. And since I haven’t gotten paid yet, I couldn’t afford to get a Nighthawks shirt in my size.
Lexi looks around at the other people in the suite and then at me, laughter dancing in her eyes. “You don’t stand out at all,” she says, sarcastically.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say guiltily, thinking the least I could have done was wear one of the hats Caden has given me.
“Drinks?” A waitress asks, circulating through the suite.
Lexi leans over and whispers in my ear. “In case Caden didn’t mention it, drinks and food are included in this suite, so don’t be shy.”
“Why else do you think I’m here?” I say, jokingly. Then I realize how bad that must have sounded. “I mean, I came for the game, obviously. It’s just that I lost my job and I recently started a new one and I won’t get paid for a week, so I was really looking forward to having some real food.”
Lexi gives me a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to worry,” she says. “I won’t tell Caden you just came for the food. I know good and well what it’s like to live from paycheck to paycheck. I know how it feels to be without a job.”
“You do?”
She nods. Then she calls over the waitress. “So, what will it be, Murphy? Coke, tea, champagne?”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “Champagne, of course.”
Lexi laughs as the waitress hands us some pre-poured glasses from her tray. “I knew I was going to like you,” she says.
“Old Man Murphy?” a woman coming through the door shouts over the noise in the room.
I cover my mouth to avoid spitting out a mouthful of champagne. I look around at the now-silent room, embarrassed, but making every effort not to fall down laughing. I walk over to her. “I’m Old Man Murphy.”
The lady looks down at the box and then up at me in total confusion.
“I mean, I’m Murphy. Murphy Cavenaugh.” The woman continues to stare at me. “It’s a long story … er, an inside joke.” I feel heat creep up my face as I scramble for an explanation.
She laughs and hands me the box. “Lucky for you,” she says. “Murphy Cavenaugh suits you so much better, dear. This is for you. It’s from Mr. Kessler.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say, accepting the package.
She hands me a business card. “I’m Melanie. If there is anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to text me during the game.”
I look back at Lexi to see her watching our exchange. “Okay, I appreciate that.”
“Enjoy the game,” she says before walking out of the suite.
I take the box over to a table and open it to see what’s inside. Then I look around at the ceiling of the suite. “Are there cameras in here?”
“Cameras? Why?” Lexi asks.
I pull out the Nighthawks shirt and show it to her. “Do you think Caden could see that I wasn’t wearing a Hawks shirt?”
Lexi laughs. “You don’t know my brother well enough to know this yet, Murphy, but when he plays baseball, he doesn’t think about anything else. Even before games, he has a ritual that he does to get ready. To get him in the right frame of mind. So there is no way he would have seen you even if there were cameras in here.”
“Oh.” I look down at the shirt in my hands. “I wonder how he knew then.”
“Knew that you wouldn’t have any Nighthawks stuff?” she asks. “You, the girl who hates baseball? Yeah, I wonder.”
“Okay, fine,” I pout, conceding her point. “I guess I’d better go put it on.”
By the time I come out of the bathroom, the game has started. Some people take seats right in front of the glass, but I hang back, picking at the hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne. I realize there is quite possibly one inch of solid glass separating me from any potential fly balls, but it still makes me uneasy.
Lexi stands next to me, watching the game from the back of the suite. “Caden’s probably batting fifth,” she says. “You know, in case you were wondering.”
“Does that mean he will get to bat this time, before his team is in the field?”
“Hopefully, unless the guys before him all strike out.”
I nod. “He’s trying to teach me about baseball,” I tell her.
“I know. He told me. I think he’s quite enamored with you, Murphy.”
“Enamored?” I shoot her my crazy eyes. “No. I’m just his charity case, Lexi. That’s all.”
She smiles, shaking her head as if she has some kind of private joke.
“What?” I ask.
“Caden hasn’t told you how I met my husband, has he?”
“Your husband, the doctor?”
“That’s right.”
I shake my head. “No, he hasn’t.”
“I was once a charity case, too, you know. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, Murphy. Plus, my brother feels genuinely guilty for putting you in the hospital. And let’s be honest, it’s not like he can’t afford whatever he’s done for you.”
“I don’t care how much money he has,” I tell her. “I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.”
“Beholden?” She turns to face me, head on, ignoring the game. Then she laughs once again. “Murphy, you and I are more alike than you know. I think we’re going to be great friends.”
There is cheering from the crowd as one of the players runs around to second base.
Lexi pulls on my elbow, dragging me to the front by the window. “Come on, Caden is up.”
I find myself getting nervous when we reach the front of the suite. Strangely enough though, I’m not nervous about getting hit, I’m nervous about Caden being up at bat. I look down at the tens of thousands of fans in the stadium and I wonder how anyone could stand up at the plate and hit a ball with all those people screaming and cheering.
He whacks the ball and I find myself yelling and clapping. Then I realize I’m the only one in the suite doing it. I turn to Lexi, embarrassed. “He hit the ball, didn’t he?”
“It was a foul ball,” she says, pointing over to left field. “That counts as a strike.”
I shrug. “Sorry,” I say to the people sitting next to me. They chuckle as if they know it’s my first time watching a game.
Caden swings and misses, giving him a second strike. Then he swings and hits the ball again. Before I embarrass myself by cheering a second time, I look around. Again, nobody is cheering. “Another foul? Does that mean he’s out? Third strike?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. You can’t get out on a foul ball. You can hit them all day long and not get out. Well, unless somebody on the other team catches one of them.”
&nbs
p; He fouls off another and I find myself tensing up as I watch the guy in left field dash over to try and catch it. Caden does it again, hitting the ball straight up in the air, and I grab Lexi’s arm waiting to see if the catcher will get a hold of it.
Lexi laughs. “Pretty intense, huh?”
Then he swings and misses and gets called out. “Oh, no,” I say, feeling bad about his strike out.
“It’s okay,” Lexi says. “They get out more than they get a hit.”
“They do?”
“Yup. If they only get a hit a third of the time, they are doing well.”
“I have a lot to learn,” I say.
Someone taps my shoulder. I turn around to see Melanie. She hands me another box. “Mr. Kessler has invited you and Mrs. Stone to wait for him outside the clubhouse after the game.”
“Oh, okay, thank you.” I turn to Lexi. “That’s the locker room,” I say, proudly. “Bet you didn’t think I knew that.”
She laughs and points to the box. “What’s in this one?”
I open it and pull out a giant foam finger with the Nighthawks logo and a large #8. I put the box aside and roll my eyes. “A little over the top, isn’t he?”
“I think he just wants everyone to love baseball as much as he does,” Lexi says.
I can’t help myself as I watch intensely every time Caden is behind the plate as catcher. I worry he will get hit with the ball and get hurt like I did. I know he wears that pad thing and a face mask, but I heard some guys in the suite discussing how the pitcher throws close to one hundred miles per hour. That is crazy. I wonder if Caden has ever gotten hurt. He seems to expertly know where the pitcher will throw the ball.
By the time Caden gets up to bat again, I’m really getting into the game. I don’t know if it’s Lexi and her encouragement, or the fans that surround me, but my heart pumps wildly when he steps up to the plate.
He swings twice and misses twice. I find myself getting bummed out. Then, on the third swing, I hear a crack and everyone in the stadium stands up and yells.
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