by Tara Wyatt
“Uh…” he said stupidly, trying to make his brain work. Trying to think about anything other than how she looked and felt when she came. How fucking hot and tight she’d been. How she’d blown his goddamn mind. He should say something. Anything. What was he supposed to say to her? What were words? How did speaking even work again?
“We…uh…” She shook her head, and he felt the tiniest twinge of smug satisfaction that her brain wasn’t fully functional either. She pulled the sheet tighter around herself and then shook her head again. “That should not have happened.”
“No, definitely not,” he answered almost immediately, even though a part of him buried deep down someplace dark wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Last night hadn’t been something, but it also hadn’t been nothing. At least, it hadn’t felt like nothing.
Then again, he’d had sex with Aerin, so it was definitely, absolutely nothing.
She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her temple. After a moment, she let out a long breath and then started to scoot off of the bed. “I…I should go.” Her eyes raked over his bare chest as she moved. Something warmed inside him and his stomach churned. He wasn’t sure if that curl of nausea was from the hangover or the fact that he hated that warming in his blood. Didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. Shouldn’t have chased it last night.
But he didn’t have time to dig any deeper because as Aerin awkwardly slid off the bed, she took the sheet with her, leaving Javi completely naked.
Her eyes zeroed in on his cock and damn if it didn’t twitch in response. “Shit,” he grumbled, grabbing for a pillow and slamming it down over his hips. Trying to preserve the remaining shards of his dignity, not that he had much left after falling into bed with the one woman he couldn’t stand.
Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip, then adjusted the voluminous sheet around herself. “Yeah, I should definitely go. I’ll just find my clothes, and…”
She headed toward the door, where they’d shed most of their clothing last night, and he almost didn’t want to tell her. He had a feeling that if the situation were reversed, she’d let him walk out into the hallway in nothing but a sheet. And fuck if it didn’t sting a little that she was so eager to get away from him that she didn’t even know where she was. But then he let out a sigh.
“Aerin, we’re in your room.”
She spun and almost tripped over the bunched sheet, stumbling with a little bouncing hop. “Oh! Oh, um, yeah. Yeah. You should go. Not me, because it’s my room, so I’ll just…” And then she disappeared into the bathroom with a slam of the door.
Javi closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. What the hell had he been thinking? Flirting with her at the bar was one thing. Spending the night in bed with her? Definitely a whole other thing. A whole other thing that shouldn’t have happened. At all. Ever. Under any circumstances.
His phone chimed from his pants pocket, so with Aerin still in the bathroom, he scrambled out of bed and hauled on his boxer briefs, then retrieved his phone. A text from Abby lit up the screen.
Abby: So…rumor has it you disappeared with Aerin Stone last night…
Oh, shit. Shit and fuck and goddammit. He quickly typed out a response.
Javi: That’s the thing about rumors, can’t believe everything you hear. And aren’t you up kind of early for someone who got married last night?
The bathroom door opened and Aerin reappeared in a fluffy white bathrobe, her hair brushed and her face clean. “Oh, you’re still here,” she said, her voice tinged with irritation. “In your underwear. Texting.”
“Just leaving,” he said, pulling on his pants, shirt, and shoes. Fuck, getting dressed as Aerin stared at him, waiting for him to get the hell out of her room had to be a new low. He half expected her to throw a wad of cash at him. His phone chimed with another text from Abby, pulling his attention from the greasy humiliation clinging to him like an oily film.
Abby: Come down for the breakfast?
Food and somewhere else to be sounded amazing right now, so he answered yes to Abby’s text. Without looking at Aerin, he headed for the door.
“Oh, and Javier?”
He stopped and turned, a part of him just a little sad that they’d bounced all the way back to full names and icy tones. “Yeah?”
“This did not happen.”
He scoffed out a little laugh and offered her a half smile. “Agreed.” He stepped out into the hallway, the door closing so quickly behind him that it nearly caught him in the ass. As he headed down the hallway, he prayed to every god he could think of that he didn’t run into anyone he knew. But thankfully, the entire floor was quiet, the only sound the strains of a weather report coming from a TV in a room a few doors down. Reaching the elevator, he jabbed at the call button and then ran a hand over his hair and checked to make sure his tie was still in his pocket. It had been a Father’s Day present from the girls last year—he wasn’t normally a purple wearing guy, but they’d picked it out—and he’d hate to lose it.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime and he stepped inside, his steps faltering when he glanced up and found Connor Slate and Beau Beckett both staring at him as though he’d just stepped off a spaceship.
Goddammit. What was it with the elevators in this hotel?
“Mornin’, Skip,” drawled Beau, leaning against the wall, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Looks like you had a good night.”
Javi didn’t say anything, just scratched at his cheek. Stubble rasped under his fingers. “Morning,” he mumbled, facing the front and avoiding eye contact.
“So, is it true? Did you melt the ice queen?” asked Connor, a barely suppressed laugh rippling through his words. Javi couldn’t explain it, but a sudden surge of protectiveness rose up through him, making him clench his fists in his pockets. Apparently it was one thing for Javi to think of her that way and another for someone else to say it out loud.
What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling protective of a woman who’d practically kicked him out of her hotel room?
He turned and met Connor’s eyes. “Man, if you think I’d sleep with Aerin Stone, you’re cracked. She’d probably freeze my dick off.” He felt sick, each word clogging his throat with a pulse of nausea, but denial was his only play here.
Thankfully, Connor and Beau laughed and the elevator opened onto Javi’s floor, giving him an escape. Stepping into his own blissfully silent hotel room, he immediately stripped and headed for the shower. And yet, a tiny part of him felt a twinge of regret at washing last night away. At stepping into that shower and rinsing Aerin off of him.
“Connor’s not cracked. You’re cracked,” he said to himself in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up. After a moment, he stepped into the glass cubicle, letting the hot water slice over his skin. He closed his eyes, fatigue pulling at him.
The truth was, he didn’t know how to feel about what had happened last night. He didn’t feel guilty, not exactly, but he did know that it shouldn’t have happened. He and Aerin had crossed a line they shouldn’t have crossed. Hell, they could barely stand each other most of the time. They had a very tenuous professional relationship. They were casual work acquaintances—at best—and nothing more.
Right. And now he was intimately acquainted with how she looked when she came. How she tasted. How she gripped him so perfectly as he…
No. Stop. It was a one-time thing that wouldn’t happen again, and not just because he wasn’t even sure if he liked her. He didn’t have room on his plate for any kind of relationship right now. Not with his ongoing custody battle and the start of the season looming. His job and his girls were where his focus needed to be.
He lathered himself up, soapy water cascading over his skin as Cara’s words came back to him.
I’m trying to spare them the disappointment that you put me through when you were never there.
It’s not about forgiveness, Javi. It’s about knowing who you are, and how you live and prioritize your life.
He’d hurt the people he cared about. Even though he and Cara probably would’ve grown apart eventually—he was convinced of that now—he hated that he’d hurt her. Hated that he’d let her down. Hated that she worried about him doing the same thing to the girls.
Once he was showered and shaved, he quickly got dressed in a black button down shirt and jeans. His stomach rumbled, its emptiness only adding to the latent nausea still simmering there.
The hotel’s restaurant was a beautiful space with elegant crown moldings, sparkling windows looking out onto yet another garden, small brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and thick, creamy wallpaper. Semi-circular tan leather benches surrounded each round table, giving the space an airy yet intimate feel. In the center of the room, a tree stood in the middle of a fountain, the water gurgling and mixing with the acoustic guitar music being piped in over the speakers. As he stepped inside, the din of voices got louder, drowning out the music. The scents of bacon and coffee nailed him, making his mouth water.
Glancing around, he saw that a lot of the seats were already taken. Jake and Abby sat with their families, leaving the rest of the guests to find their own spots. He slid into an empty spot in a booth toward the back.
“Anyone sitting here?” he asked, and Dylan McCormick shook his head.
“It’s all yours.” His fiancée Maggie sat beside him, with Marlowe—looking much less pale than she had last night, Javi was happy to note—and Hunter taking up the other two spots in the booth. But then, of course, Connor and Beau walked in and made a beeline for Javi, sitting down and wedging him into the booth, preventing any escape. Thankfully, a server set down coffee mugs and filled them in rapid succession, and then unloaded three plates from a nearby tray. Javi took a long swallow of coffee before tucking into his breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, and fruit salad sat in front of him, looking even better than it all smelled. As soon as the first bit of salt hit his tongue, it was all he could do to stop himself from demolishing his breakfast. He was starving.
“Looks like someone worked up an appetite last night,” said Beau, one arm over the back of the booth as he nursed his coffee. “C’mon, Skip. Give us the gossip. Who’d you get down and dirty with last night?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Javi said around a mouthful of bacon. “And you’re one to talk about getting down and dirty.”
Beau just smirked. “At least I share the details of my escapades.”
“Yeah, so much so that you give all of us herpes just by association,” said Hunter, spearing a cube of melon onto his fork. Marlowe laughed into her orange juice.
“It’s true,” said Maggie. “You were always a PR nightmare for me.” Up until last summer, Maggie had worked for the Longhorns. Unfortunately, her relationship with Dylan had cost her the job, but she’d bounced back, landing on her feet at a cancer non-profit. Javi had been glad to hear it; he’d always liked her and had been sad to see her go.
“Hey, I thought we were talking about Flores, not me,” said Beau, frowning down at his breakfast.
“Well, now we’re talking about you, something I thought you liked,” said Javi, swiping his toast through some spilled egg yolk. “And besides, like I said. Nothing to talk about.”
Connor pointed at him. “Don’t believe you, not even for a second.”
Javi shot him a glare. “You’re lucky you throw harder than anyone I know.” And it was true. Connor had the hardest, fastest pitch in the league. He’d earned the nickname Mountain Man not just because of his slightly grizzled looks, with his longish hair and beard, but because he ruled the pitcher’s mound like a king on a mountain.
Connor held his hands up. “All right, all right, fine. Be a gentleman and leave us hanging. Whatever.”
Javi chucked his balled up napkin at him, watching as Connor swatted it away.
“You ready for Florida?” asked Hunter, and Javi nodded, grateful for the subject change. Spring training was only a couple of weeks away, and he was dying to get back at it. The Longhorns had surprised everyone last season by not only making it to the Wild Card game, but winning it and moving on to the ALDS. Unfortunately, they’d been swept out by the Astros, their in-state rivals, but he still chalked the season up as a win. They’d made it to the postseason and done more than anyone had expected them to accomplish.
But this year, the ALDS wouldn’t be good enough. Not for Javi, and not for his bosses, or the players and fans. This year, he wanted it all. But he was superstitious, so even thinking the words World Series was a no-no. Yeah, it was always there, hovering in the back of his mind, but only as the ghost of an idea. The spirit of a hope, a wish.
“Absolutely,” he said after swallowing his mouthful of food. “It’s gonna be a good year. We have a lot of work to do, but we’re all ready to buckle down and do what needs to be done.”
“Holy. Shit.” Dylan stared down at his phone on the table, his eyes glued to the lit up screen. “Santiago Alvarez defected.”
Javi, like everyone else in the baseball world, had heard all of the rumors about Santiago Alvarez, the star Cuban catcher, defecting, but he hadn’t put much stock in them. Until now.
“Where is he?” he asked, knowing that if he’d defected to the US, he’d have to go through the MLB draft and wouldn’t be available for this coming season.
Dylan’s eyes skimmed further down the article he was reading. “Mexico. Says he’s in Mexico.”
Javi set his fork down and wiped his mouth, processing that fascinating bit of information. If Alvarez was in Mexico, that meant he’d skirted the draft and would be looking for a team to sign him. Like, yesterday. His eyes flicked across the room to where Jake sat with Abby. Jake, their retired catcher, who’d left a pretty big hole in their lineup when he’d decided to call it a career at the end of last season.
“I can think of a team that could use a catcher,” said Hunter casually, grinning as Marlowe stole a strawberry from his plate.
“Me too,” said Javi thoughtfully, his mind already whirring. “Me too.”
Aerin’s fingers flew over her laptop keyboard as she worked through her emails and a few contract amendments on her flight back to Dallas, compiling a to-do list of bigger things she could start taking care of once she was back at the office. As soon as she’d been allowed, she’d pulled her computer out of her bag, determined to distract herself so she’d stop thinking about Javi.
About the savage way he’d kissed her.
About how hard he’d made her come, over and over.
About his gorgeous body.
About how amazingly perfect he’d felt inside her.
She shifted in her first class seat, an ache throbbing between her legs, half soreness from last night and half arousal.
With a huffed out breath, she dragged her attention back to her computer screen, her cursor blinking at her expectantly. She wasn’t going to think about it. It should never—never ever ever ever ever—have happened. But it had, so all she could do now was move on and enjoy the memory for what it was, and try to pretend it hadn’t been the best sex of her entire life.
Well, shit. She’d had the best sex of her life with a man who couldn’t stand her. With a man she wasn’t entirely sure she liked.
No. Of course she didn’t like Javi. Javier, she corrected herself. He was too uptight. Too arrogant and condescending.
Too freaking sexy.
Yeah, they’d jumped each other’s bones, but they’d probably just needed to get it out of their systems. All that sparring back and forth had led to some seriously pent up lust. But it didn’t matter. She probably wouldn’t see him again any time soon, giving her ample time to bury what had happened and her reaction to it. Growing up, she’d gotten very, very good at burying her emotions. Emotions had never been welcome in her family’s home. They’d been too messy. Too loud. And so they’d all co-existed in a highly dysfunctional sphere of complicit denial and repression. Her father had channeled himself into work and sex with his numerous mistresses. Her mother had c
hanneled herself into…well, drinking. Gossiping with the other ladies at the club. Quietly hating her father and her life, leaving Aerin and her brothers to largely raise and fend for themselves.
Pushing the unwelcome memories away, she forced herself to get back to work. It was fine. It would all be fine. They’d had a hot one night stand and it didn’t mean anything.
And she could almost believe that if she pretended she didn’t remember the emotional turbulence she’d felt last night. Almost.
With a sigh, she closed the lid of her laptop and leaned back in her seat, the leather creaking softy beneath her as she let her eyes fall closed. Letting images from last night float through her mind, just for a minute, and then she’d put them away for good. Forever.
God, it had been so good. It was the kind of sex she’d only ever dreamed about, or read about, or fantasized about. Dirty and hot and earthy with no shame.
And it was nothing short of completely terrifying. Because it made her want more. Made her want things she couldn’t have—with Javi or with anyone. Made her feel things she’d long killed and buried in the name of self-preservation. She’d barely survived putting herself back together after Eric’s betrayal. She’d be a sucker to give anyone the chance to hurt her again.
And Aerin Stone was no sucker.
Six
Three Weeks Later
Javi stood on the concrete steps leading from the dugout to the field, one leg a step higher so he could rest his arms on his bent knee. With a mouthful of sunflower seeds, the Florida sunshine heating his skin, and the scents of grass and pine tar filling his nostrils, he felt completely at home, like something inside him had settled back into place.
It was the first game of the spring training season, and although the team had spent the past ten days together shaking off the rust of the off-season, this first game was truly where Javi believed the cobwebs started to come loose.