My One and Only

by Iris Morland

  That evening, Carter felt antsy. He considered going to a bar, maybe finding a willing woman to return to the bed-and-breakfast with him. There had to be bachelorettes on this godforsaken island, right? Ones who were as cynical about life as he was right now.

  The thought of taking some stranger back didn’t appeal to him, strangely enough. Normally it would have. Feeling out of sorts, Carter decided he’d wander around the island and see what he found.

  Hazel Island was only about ten square miles, its one town was named Hazel Town, but nobody called it that. Outside of the town’s center, there were houses scattered throughout the island. Some overlooked the cliffs for which the island was famous.

  Carter wandered down a street that ran parallel to a large park. It was a few hours before sunset, and families and singles walked up and down the sidewalk. Some turned into the entrance for the park, while others were most likely on their way home.

  Nobody stopped Carter for an autograph or a photo this time. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to be nice to fans. Usually he enjoyed the attention, even expected it. Tonight, however, he wasn’t interested in being pleasant.

  During a meeting with Jim and the writers, Carter had had to force himself to stop thinking about that damn kiss with Lucy. He’d had to talk about schedules and budgets until he’d wanted to blow his brains out. He’d called Anthony after the meeting to tell him he’d been an idiot to let him do this.

  “Are you quitting?” Anthony had said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

  “I want to. Why did I agree to this again?”

  “Because I didn’t need to keep looking at your sad, mopey face all summer. Maybe you could start enjoying yourself. You’re on an island, you know. People like islands.”

  Carter had given his friend some choice words and had promptly hung up. He had no real reason to be irritated about his gig here: it involved not much work on his part at the end of the day, and it allowed him more freedom than he’d had when he’d been playing.

  God, he just wanted to return to baseball. He’d always known that he’d retire eventually—no athlete could play forever. But to stop playing because of a bum shoulder, to have his career cut short…

  Carter had wandered into the park, and he stopped short when he reached a baseball field. He blew out a breath. Of course he’d find the baseball field. It was in his blood.

  He watched as a father tossed a ball to his son, who didn’t look to be older than ten. The boy had on a helmet that made him look like a bobblehead, and he wiggled his butt a little as he held the bat.

  Carter smiled, crossing his arms. The boy’s dad threw the ball underhand, and the boy managed to hit it hard enough that it would’ve gotten close to second base if the dad hadn’t caught it.

  “Right on!” his dad said. “One more time.”

  The boy got into position. This time, he hit the ball high enough that his dad had to run after it. The boy managed to make a home run. When he got to home base, he high-fived his dad, the two of them laughing.

  Something twisted in Carter’s chest. The only thing his own father had ever done during practice sessions was tell Carter that he could do better.

  Always better, faster, higher. Carter could never measure up to his dad’s impossible expectations, but he’d tried. He would try until his shoulder was on fire, until his fingers ached from gripping the ball. He’d throw until he’d simply run out of energy, and his dad would shake his head. Not gonna get anywhere with that attitude.

  “Hey, can I join you two?” said Carter, jogging up to the father-son duo.

  The boy’s father blinked in surprise before saying, “Wait? Are you Carter Roberts?”

  “Guilty as charged,” said Carter.

  The boy was staring up at Carter with eyes as wide as an owl’s. In a whisper, the boy breathed, “Are you really him?”

  “You’re his favorite pitcher ever,” said the man before he held out his hand. “I’m Steve, and this is Danny. Danny, introduce yourself to Mr. Roberts here.”

  Danny stuck out his hand, which Carter shook with all of the appropriate solemnity of the occasion.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Carter. “I saw you made a home run, too.”

  “I’ve watched every game you’ve been in,” said Danny in a rush. “When you pitched and struck out Perry during the World Series…” Danny sighed happily. “I rewatched that so many times.”

  That had been the moment that had clinched the win for the Orcas, and Carter looked back on that memory with a mixture of fondness and sadness.

  “I’m kind of out of practice. You wanna practice with me?” Carter glanced at Steve. “If it’s okay with your dad.”

  Steve agreed readily, not questioning why Carter Roberts of all people wanted to play catch with his ten-year-old son. Maybe he assumed it was some strange quirk of professional players. Or he was being particularly nice to one of his young fans.

  As Carter played catch with Danny and provided him with pointers, he relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages. The feeling of a ball in his hand, the leather smell of the mitt (borrowed from Steve who stood on the sidelines watching), the crack of the bat. For a second, Carter felt transported, even if he was just playing with a young kid in the middle of a park. Carter could forget for a moment that his shoulder was possibly beyond repair and that his career had been destroyed during that single moment of madness.

  Soon, though, the sun had set enough that there wasn’t enough light to keep playing. Danny jogged up to Carter, peppering him with questions. Steve finally told his son they needed to head home.

  Carter still held the ball they’d been using. When he tried to hand it back to Steve, the man said, “Keep it. We have plenty at home.”

  A few distant streetlamps flickered on, providing a little more light. Carter stood at the pitcher’s mound, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands.

  He hadn’t tried to pitch since his last surgery. His physical therapist had told him he could throw again after six weeks, but obviously not like he used to. He’d have to throw as lightly as Steve had thrown to Danny. Which meant that Carter couldn’t throw at all in his estimation.

  Carter got into position, pulling his arm back, his muscles still remembering the movement that was imprinted onto his very soul. In a rush of air, he threw, the ball hitting the metal fence a second later.

  Lucy wasn’t entirely certain why she’d felt the need to follow Carter. She’d been taking a walk on the trail and was about to return to the bed-and-breakfast when she’d caught sight of him.

  She inhaled a sharp breath as she watched him pitch. The ball flew so fast that it was a mere blur until it struck the metal fence and thumped onto the ground.

  It was dark enough that Lucy could stand in the shadows and watch him without him knowing she was there. But watching him like this and knowing some vague details about his injury and subsequent benching, she felt like she was intruding on something unbearably private.

  Yet she couldn’t force herself to walk away, either.

  He pitched a second time. Lucy caught her breath, in awe at his speed. No wonder he was so arrogant and self-assured: no normal human could throw like that. That kind of talent was rare and breathtaking.

  After his second pitch, Carter didn’t immediately jog to pick up the ball for a third pitch. He rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

  Lucy’s heart squeezed. She shouldn’t have come here. She didn’t need to feel anything but dislike for this man who’d upended her life in a few days.

  She stepped backward to retreat, only to step on a branch that cracked so loudly everyone in a one-mile radius probably heard it. Knowing she was caught, she stepped into the light and approached Carter.

  “What are you doing here?” he said.

  When he didn’t make a joke or snarky aside, Lucy knew he wasn’t feeling like himself. He kept rubbing his shoulder and trying to stretch it, his face contorting with pain as he did so.

&nbs
p; “Are you okay?” she said softly.

  He shrugged. “I’m fine. It’ll stop throbbing eventually.”

  Lucy was tempted to tell him he should go straight back to his room and ice his shoulder, but she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was just his fake girlfriend, because she wanted to get Hayden’s attention.

  “Fuck,” muttered Carter. “I shouldn’t have thrown that second pitch.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone throw as fast as you. I don’t know how anyone manages to hit a ball that you throw at them.”

  Carter’s lips lifted in a smile. “That’s the thing: they don’t.” But his smile soon disappeared. “That wasn’t fast, at least not for me. It was probably closer to eighty, maybe slower. I used to throw a hundred. Until my goddamn shoulder gave out on me.”

  “But you’ll play again, right? Once you heal?”

  His expression was pitying, like she’d asked if unicorns were real. “Little spitfire, a torn rotator cuff is the worst injury a pitcher can get. There’s no going back from it.”

  Seeing the starkness in his gaze, the devastation, made Lucy wonder if this was the first time he’d admitted such a statement to himself. Her heart squeezed for the second time that night.

  “But maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones. My surgeon hasn’t written me off yet,” he said.

  “So you have to wait?”

  “Yes, wait and see. And, yes, it does suck.”

  “I’m sorry,” she offered, rather lamely. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better.”

  “Would you make it better if you could? I thought you didn’t like me.” His smile returned.

  “Just because I don’t like someone doesn’t mean I want them to suffer. I’m not inhuman. I mean, yes, if you fell down in front of a crowd of people, I’d laugh and say you deserved it, but—”

  He held up a hand. “I get you. You don’t need to explain your sudden interest in pitying me.” He glanced at his watch. “We should get back. Were you here alone?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You shouldn’t be in a park by yourself at night.”

  Lucy put her hands on her hips. “I think this island is pretty safe, Carter. I doubt there are any boogeymen looking to kidnap me.”

  “But you’d be so easy to kidnap.” He stepped closer to her, smiling down at her. “You’re so tiny. I could throw you over my shoulder without any effort.”

  “I am not tiny. I am petite. There’s a difference. You make it sound like I should be a part of a Polly Pocket or something.”

  “What the hell is a Polly Pocket?”

  Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at his face. “You never had a Polly Pocket as a kid? It was this container…thing that was a house inside, and there were tiny figurines that went with it called Polly.”

  “You’re terrible at describing this.”

  Annoyed, she pulled up a photo of a Polly Pocket on her phone and showed it to him.

  Carter smirked. “Darlin’,” he drawled, “do I look like the kind of guy who would’ve played with something like that?”

  Lucy blushed, mostly because she started to imagine what he would enjoy playing with. Suddenly their innocuous banter heated up, and only because of the way Carter looked at her. Like he wanted to eat her up in one gulp.

  “Did you always want to be a baseball player?” she blurted.

  “Yeah, pretty much. It was all I was ever good at, anyway.”

  “I wanted to be an actress when I was in first grade. I was in this school play, and I loved it. When I found out people got paid to act, I decided that was what I wanted to be.”

  “And now you’re living your dream.” He chucked her under the chin. “What a lucky girl you are.”

  Her hackles rose. “You don’t have to be condescending about it. It’s not like I haven’t worked my ass off to get here, you know.”

  “You’re right,” he said soberly, to her surprise. “I never meant to imply otherwise. If anyone has worked hard, it’s you.”

  She was so stunned by the sudden compliment that words failed her. She didn’t understand this man at all. One second he insulted her, the next he said things like that. Her initial impression that he was some smarmy playboy hadn’t been remotely correct. There were layers to this man that she wished to uncover, all the while knowing it would most likely result in her own heart breaking.

  “I thought about giving it all up,” she confessed, feeling like she owed him a piece of herself. “Before I got this role. I was about to pack up my bags and wave the white flag.”

  Carter didn’t say anything, but she knew he was listening.

  “My family supports me, but they also worry about me. My older brothers especially. Trent is always calling me to make sure I have enough money because I asked him to help with my rent once.” She winced. “Okay, maybe twice. But that was a long time ago.”

  “He cares about you,” said Carter softly.

  “I know. They all do. And when I counted up all the bills that were overdue and how my bank account had only a negative balance, I thought, Maybe Trent’s right. Maybe I should go home and get a real job.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I had dreamed of becoming an actress for so long that I had never considered it might not happen, no matter how hard I tried to make it happen.”

  “And even if you do make it, it can disappear before you know it.”

  Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes. Of course. I’m complaining about nothing.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Carter looked away, and Lucy drank in his profile. His jawline was exquisite; she had a feeling her sister, Thea, a graphic artist, would love to draw this man. Lucy wanted to touch him; the desire was so intense she had to put her hands behind her back to keep herself from doing something truly stupid.

  They stood in silence for a long moment, the only sounds those of distant cars and the rustling of the trees.

  Then Carter said suddenly, “We should go on a date.”

  Lucy gaped at him.

  His normally easy smile returned. “A date. Especially if it’s at a place your one true love hangs out at. He needs to see us together.”

  Strangely, Lucy felt disappointment roll through her. Of course he meant a fake date. He didn’t really want to take her out. She probably wasn’t his type anyway, given the fact that he had access to any beautiful woman he could possibly want.

  “We should,” she choked out, glad for once that she was an actress and could make herself sound enthused when she wanted to hide under a rock. “Hayden told me he hangs out at Verity on Wednesdays for their happy hour.”

  “Excellent.” Carter wasn’t smiling now. “Put on your best dress, little spitfire. We’re gonna make your guy so jealous he won’t know what hit him.”

  Chapter Eight

  The moment Carter saw Lucy step out of her room wearing an emerald cocktail dress that hugged her body, he knew he’d made a huge mistake.

  When he didn’t say anything, Lucy shuffled her feet. “Something wrong?”

  He was tempted to tell her to go back into her room and find something else to wear. Preferably a burlap sack, because dammit, she was too sexy for her own good, wearing a dress like that. That dress could tempt the pope to forsake his vows. The green fabric left little to the imagination, and the sweetheart neckline put the lovely curves of her breasts and shoulders on display.

  The dress hit right above the knee, but it certainly showed enough of her legs to tempt a saint. And Carter was no saint to begin with.

  And neither is Hayden Masterson.

  Scowling inwardly, he finally said, “Let’s go, before we’re late for our reservation.”

  When they were seated inside the restaurant—a quaint little Italian place that overlooked the water—Carter felt like he’d gotten a hold of himself. Just because he wanted to throw Lucy over his shoulder and take her straight to bed didn’t mean he had to give in to the impulse. Besides, the reason he was doing this was to piss of
f Hayden and show him what it felt like to have someone else steal a woman right from under your nose.

  Lucy ordered a glass of chardonnay while Carter stuck with red wine.

  “Is he here?” said Carter softly after their waiter had left.

  Lucy frowned. “Is who here?”

  “Your Prince Charming.”

  “Oh.” She set her wineglass down, accidentally hitting the side of her bread plate. “Oh, no. I mean, I haven’t looked yet.”

  She peered over Carter’s shoulder, which made him chuckle.

  “You’re going to have to at least try to be subtle,” he drawled.

  “Oh, hush.” Her eyes widened. “He’s here—at the bar. And he’s alone.”

  Gritting his teeth, Carter forced himself to put on his laziest grin. “Then we should give him a good show. Lean closer to me. Yeah, like that. Act like I’m talking about the most fascinating thing ever.”

  Lucy put her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes. Her leaning over only made her breasts push up against her dress. Carter’s cock stirred, irritating the hell out of him.

  Why did he have to want this woman? Despite his assurances to her that she wouldn’t be able to resist him, he wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t drop him like a hot potato if Hayden so much as crooked his finger at her.

  Carter took a long drink of his wine, mostly to fortify himself.

  “What do you like to do for fun? Besides baseball,” said Lucy.

  “That’s what you’re going with? Hobbies?”

  “Hey, you weren’t coming up with anything, mister.”

  “Darlin’, you should know the answer to that. If I’m not playing, I’m fucking a beautiful woman. Or maybe more than one at a time.”

  “You can’t be fucking women all the time. What about when you’re tired or sick? What if you have the flu? Nobody likes to have sex when they have the flu.” She smiled innocently.

  “I never get sick, so your point is moot.”

  “Everyone gets sick.”

  Carter snorted. “I don’t.”

  “You’re terrible at this.” Lucy leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you something about myself. When I’m not acting, I like to post ads on Craigslist for random hookups, usually involving Jell-O molds and inflatable pool toys.”