The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  Caden, on the other hand, is calm and calculated. I’ve noticed he doesn’t drink much. My guess is that he likes to be in control and if he drinks too much, he may give that up.

  Suddenly, I have thoughts about getting him drunk and watching him lose control.

  “I’d love to be in your head right now,” he says, studying me intently.

  I look away, embarrassed that I was staring at him, having lewd thoughts about what I want to do to him. What I want him to do to me.

  He laughs at my reaction. Then his face breaks into a smile and he stands up, pulling me off my chair and over to the dance floor. “I love this song,” he says, twirling me around and into his arms as ‘Sweet Caroline’ blasts through the speakers.

  I love it, too. In fact, I was in part named after it as it was my grandmother’s favorite song. During parts of the song, everyone in the room shouts out “Ba, Ba, Baaaa” and then “So good, so good, so good.”

  I look at Caden and then around the bar, seeing everyone sing along. “Why does everyone here like Neil Diamond?” I ask, confused. “I thought that was a Red Sox thing.”

  “This is a sports bar. It’s a baseball thing!” he shouts over the music, laughing. “Just go with it, Murphy Brown. Come on, let loose.”

  I know the song has been associated with baseball. My friends were always tagging me in YouTube videos when we were younger. But I thought it was only popular in Boston. I mean, I don’t remember them playing it in Hawks Stadium the times I was there.

  By the time the second verse rolls around, I get into it along with every other person in the bar. Caden pulls me close as we dance to a song I wouldn’t think was danceable. But we aren’t the only ones on the crowded dance floor so I guess it doesn’t matter how stupid we look.

  Every time the verse rolls around, Caden and I put our faces close and yell “Ba, Ba, Baaaa” into each other, and when he loudly chants “So good, so good, so good,” I could swear he’s talking about me. About us. And not the illustrious song.

  When the song changes to a new one, he tells me, “The next time we play the Red Sox in Boston, you are definitely coming. You have to hear this in person with forty thousand screaming fans.”

  I can’t help but smile, because I know the soonest that could happen is next spring, many months from now. That means he still plans on us having a, um … thing by then.

  “It sounds like fun. I’ll have to check my calendar though,” I say, smiling up at him.

  “Oh, you’re going,” he says. “In fact, I’m getting you season tickets. You are my good luck charm.”

  I look at him like he’s crazy. “Season tickets? Don’t you play like a hundred games?”

  “A hundred and sixty-two,” he says. “But only half of them are played in New York.”

  I stop dancing and look at him nervously. “I know you don’t expect me to go to eighty-one games.”

  He laughs. “Hell no. I expect you to go to more. Maybe you can tag along on some road trips.” He sees my face pale. “I’m kidding, Murphy Brown. Well, not about getting you season tickets, but about you having to go to all the games.”

  I swat him in the chest, and he grabs onto my arm, reaching his other around my back and pulling me tightly against him. “But I would have you at every single one if I could. Having you around makes everything better.”

  “Do you want to hear something crazy?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  “I was named after that song,” I tell him. “My middle name is Caroline. That song was my grandmother’s favorite.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. Then he shakes his head laughing. Maybe he thinks it’s a bit too coincidental as well.

  “What?” I ask. “I told you it was crazy.”

  “Want to hear something even crazier?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “My middle name is Neil.”

  Now it’s my turn to be speechless.

  Our dancing turns into swaying. Our bodies are as locked together as our eyes. I lose all track of space and time as his eyes burn into mine, telling me everything I want to hear. I watch his lips as they come towards me in what seems like slow motion. They can’t get to me fast enough. I know what he tastes like. I’m already addicted to him. All I want is more.

  But before his lips find mine, I’m blinded by a bright flash.

  Caden pulls me protectively behind him, telling whoever took the picture to back off. Then hordes of other cameras come out and countless flashes light up the dark room. Caden pulls my hat down as far as it will go while he quickly escorts me out into the night and into the nearest cab.

  I smile when he gives the cabbie his address instead of mine. He doesn’t want this night to end any more than I do. And even though his place is only two blocks away, he tells the guy to turn the opposite way and drive around for a minute before heading there.

  Caden looks behind us the whole way to make sure no one is following.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says, once we’re safely in his apartment. “One of the many hazards of my job.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry, Caden. Those pictures might show up on the news. They will for sure be all over social media. Probably with me in all of them.” I put my purse on the bar and slump onto a bar stool.

  “Do you think that causes me concern?” he asks, wide-eyed.

  “Well, doesn’t it?”

  “Not for the reasons you might think, Murphy.” He comes up behind me and wraps me into his arms. He leans down and rests his chin on my shoulder. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I want this. But I also know what could happen if and when people connect you with me. I told you earlier that I’d always keep you safe, but the truth is, I would fear for your safety if it got out that you have what others want.”

  I wriggle out of his grip and turn around to face him. Because I need clarification of what I think it is that he’s telling me. I look up into his alluring green eyes. “What do I have that others want?”

  “Me,” he says.

  The way he said it wasn’t cocky or conceited. It was simply a truth. A fact. Because undeniably, others would kill to be in my position. Maybe that’s what he’s afraid of.

  He brings his hands up to cradle the sides of my face. Then he traces my scar with his thumb—something that’s become a habit for him. “That is if you want to have me,” he says.

  “Caden …”

  Before I can answer, his lips claim mine. They claim me even more completely than the other kisses we’ve shared. His kisses destroy me with each soft touch, nip and lick of his mouth. They destroy me, because now I know for sure that I’m ruined. I’m ruined for any man that would follow him.

  He asked if I want him. But it’s no longer a question of want. I need him. I need him to the very core of my being. This man is my best friend. My other half. My soul mate.

  His hands explore my arms and my back as mine weave through the locks of his hair. My legs part for him and he stands between my thighs, pressing himself against me in all the right places. The pleasurable friction causes me to moan into his mouth as he grips me tightly.

  He finally breaks our kiss, pressing his forehead against mine. “I want you, Murphy Cavenaugh. I want you more than you could possibly know.”

  Two things simultaneously go through my mind. One: that is the first time he’s ever called me by my given name; and two: this is only our second date. Or maybe it isn’t our second date. Because for some reason, Caden refuses to classify it as such.

  I pull back and sit up straight.

  He backs away, looking disheartened. “What is it?”

  “What’s going to happen after our third date, Caden?”

  He narrows his brow at me in question.

  I blow out a sigh. “Lexi told me about your three-strikes rule. Technically, we haven’t even been on a date yet. According to you, this is just a thing. What happens after our third date? I want you too, Caden. But I want you for more than three dates.
And I’m not about to go to bed with another guy who’s going to dump me in two seconds flat.”

  He paces around the counter, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that with you, Murph. You’re different and you know it. And I’m not Tony.”

  “Am I different? How do you know your old habits won’t come back to haunt you? What if you get scared and can’t help yourself. What if you decide I’m a Tony and am only here to trap you?”

  “Jesus, Murphy, I would never think that. I know you aren’t trying to trap me. Hell, you didn’t even want my help when I offered it to you in the hospital. You didn’t use my phone number. You didn’t get all starry-eyed like most girls. To this day, you won’t even text me unless I text you first.”

  “None of that matters if it’s being in a relationship that scares you,” I say. “What if your three-strikes rule is to keep you from falling for someone, not to keep others at bay?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he says.

  “Is it? Why, Caden? Why is it ridiculous?”

  He walks back around the counter and stands in front of me again. “Because it is. And besides, even if that’s why I had the rule, it obviously didn’t work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He cages me in with his arms and leans down close. “It didn’t work because it didn’t keep me from falling for someone.”

  My heart flips over in my chest. My pulse shoots through the roof. My hands shake.

  “So now you know the score of the game, Murphy Brown. I guess the ball’s in your court.”

  I can’t speak. I can barely breathe. Could he possibly feel the same way about me as I feel about him? Two weeks ago, we were friends. And now we’re talking about wanting … needing … falling.

  He leans over me and grabs my purse off the counter before putting it on my shoulder. Then he stands me up and leads me towards the door. “Thanks for a great time, Sweet Caroline. I’m taking you home now. But I hope you aren’t working next Friday night, because we’re going on a date.” He stops walking and looks directly into my eyes. “Our third date.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Caden

  Murphy leans in close and whispers in my ear. “I guess Brady doesn’t think he’s living on borrowed time.”

  Her eyes go wide as she takes in Brady’s penthouse. It’s true. It’s impressive. He spared no expense. What I don’t tell her is that while I’m focused on making sure I have a future, Brady could care less if he has one. He’s impractical. Arrogant. Reckless.

  And despite his cocky and roguish exterior, he thinks he’s broken beyond repair—his words, not mine.

  My dime-store psychoanalysis, based on the eighteen hours of psych I took in college, is that the reason he has a different girl in each city is because he refuses to let anybody in. Because if he doesn’t let anybody in, he can’t let anyone down.

  He hasn’t told me much, because he’s the most tight-lipped son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met, but what I do know is that he was married once and she was the love of his life. And the only reason I know that is because we got drunk together one time and he passed out, mumbling her name, saying how he was sorry and that everything was his fault. Sometimes I wonder if he couldn’t keep it in his pants. If he screwed up the best thing he ever had by cheating on her.

  Brady is a good guy. A loyal friend who would lay his life down for his buddies. When it comes to women and relationships, however, he’s a complete jackass. Every woman he dates knows the score. They know they are one of many. And he never fails to remind them not to expect anything from him.

  I’m not sure the other guys on the team even know what little I do about him. He’s a closed book. Except for when it comes to his wallet and his dick—both of those are usually up for grabs. It’s why he never lacks female companionship.

  “Is that … Oh, my gosh, is that an original Monet?” Murphy asks, gaping at the masterpiece hanging over his fireplace.

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” I pull her behind me into his massive kitchen where all the action seems to be. “But, you know, if you really want to see something impressive, well …” I look down at my pants.

  She swats me on the back of the head. “Don’t push your luck, Kessler.”

  A smile splits my face. I love it when she calls me that.

  “What can I get you?” a waitress asks, carrying a tray of drinks. “If I don’t have what you like, Jerry will make you anything you want.”

  I look around the room and then over at Jerry the bartender and shake my head, laughing. Only Brady Taylor would hire a waitress and a bartender for a party with only a few dozen people.

  “I’ll have a beer,” I say. “Murph?”

  “Me, too. A light one if you have it.”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back,” the waitress says.

  “What’s so funny?” Brady asks, walking over to us.

  “Nothing. Thanks for having us.”

  “You have a beautiful place, Brady,” Murphy adds.

  “You have a beautiful face, Murphy,” he says, eyeing her seductively.

  I grab her hand. “Back off, Taylor.”

  “Damn,” he says, looking at our entwined hands. “You two together now?”

  I feel Murphy stiffen so I give her hand a squeeze. “We are,” I say. “So keep your eyeballs in their sockets, my friend.”

  He laughs and pats me on the back. “I called that one, didn’t I? And believe me, there are plenty other things for my eyeballs to focus on.”

  He’s right. There seems to be a disproportionate number of women to men in attendance. There are only a handful of our teammates here, but the harem of beautiful ladies outnumbers them by two to one.

  One of the ladies walks up, draping herself around Brady. “Can I have the tour now?” she asks.

  His arm snakes around her and he pulls her tight. “Sure thing. It’s Lindsey, right?”

  She nods.

  “You guys want to join us?” he asks, earning a disapproving look from his … date?

  I take our beers from the waitress and hand one to Murphy. “No, you go ahead. I wanted to show Murphy your amazing view.”

  “Catch you later, bro,” Brady says, pulling Lindsey and her huge smile behind him.

  I introduce Murphy to a few of the guys and then on our way to the balcony, we get stopped by a couple girls.

  “Caden Kessler, oh, my God, I love you, you are the best catcher.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I do what I can.”

  The girl’s friend asks, “Can we get a picture with you?”

  I look at Murphy, who doesn’t seem to be bothered by the intrusion. She holds her hand out for the girl’s phone. “I’ll be happy to take one.”

  I smile and wink at her, happy that she’s okay with this. I know she’ll have to deal with this a lot. She’ll have to deal with this and a whole lot more. I’m glad to see it doesn’t upset her.

  I pose with the girls standing on either side of me. They both stand on their toes and give me a kiss on the cheek when Murphy snaps the picture.

  Murphy’s mouth puckers ever so slightly. It was so subtle, I almost missed it. But it was definitely there. And I find myself happy that she doesn’t want any other woman kissing me. I wiggle out from between the two girls and step back over to Murphy as she hands the phone back to them.

  As we walk away, I feel one of them stuff something into my back pocket. I turn around and look at them. “That’s not cool,” I say.

  “I was just giving you my phone number,” the brunette says. “I’m Bridgette.”

  I hand it back to her. “Thanks, Bridgette, but you should probably give it to one of my teammates instead.”

  I open the door and a rush of cold air engulfs us as I escort Murphy onto the massive wrap-around balcony that boasts one of the best views money can buy.

  Murphy goes to the very edge, taking in the lit-up buildings of the skyline. “Wow,” she says, looking at the scenic view in complete reveren
ce.

  The way she’s looking at it makes me want to upgrade my own place so I can see her look like this every time she comes over.

  I put my drink down and position myself behind her, wrapping my arms around her to keep her warm. “I’m sorry about what happened inside.”

  “It’s okay. I know stuff like that happens all the time.”

  “It bothered you when they kissed me.”

  She shrugs. “It’s something I’ll have to deal with if we …”

  I turn her around so we’re face to face. “If?” I say. “There is no if, Murph. We’re doing this.”

  She looks up at me, smiling. I’m about to lean down and kiss her when the door opens and someone shouts, “Kessler, get in here!”

  I turn around to see Sawyer beckoning us inside. I give Murphy a squeeze and then run a finger across her lower lip. “Come on, let’s go say hello to Sawyer. We’ll continue this later.”

  I grab her hand as we gather our drinks and head inside. “Sawyer, you remember Murphy.”

  Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees our entwined hands. A huge smile breaks across his face as he kisses her cheek. “How could I forget the home run girl.”

  Murphy laughs. “Is that what you guys call me?”

  “That’s what he calls you,” I say. “I already have enough nicknames for you, Murphy’s Law.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Sawyer,” she says. “You’re the short stop, aren’t you? And you lead the team in stolen bases?”

  Sawyer smiles. “Beautiful and smart. Looks like you got yourself a winner, Kess. Come on, I need you to settle a debate Spencer and I are having in the kitchen.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec.” I turn to Murphy. “Leads the team in stolen bases? I never told you that.”

  “I may have done a little internet research on the Nighthawks.”

  I can’t help my massive smile. “Admit it, Murphy Brown, you like baseball.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like you.”

  I pull her into my arms. “Good. Because I kind of like you, too.” I look down into her eyes, the eyes that are now looking at me the same way she was looking at the skyline. “Actually, I’m not sure like is a strong enough word.”