Charming the Shortstop

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Charming the Shortstop Page 13

by Heather B. Moore


  “Hmm.” Axel brushed his mouth against hers, then whispered, “I like you.”

  She let him kiss her, because it was true. He was an amazing kisser, and amazing at other stuff too. “So, ‘Cold Axe’?”

  Axel groaned and buried his face against her neck. “Can we just forget my sister barged in here?”

  Brighton laughed. “I think I need to hang out with her more. Maybe when you’re traveling.”

  He only tightened his hold on her. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying tonight?”

  Brighton ran her hands over his shoulders. “The ice cream’s in your freezer.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Six days, four phone calls, and dozens of texts later, Axel was on his way to pick Brighton up at her apartment. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was to see him again. Gabe had come over earlier and helped her choose her outfit. Because Axel had told her to wear a dress.

  “Looking good,” Gabe said through FaceTime, then looked away again.

  Brighton had her phone propped up on her vanity in the bathroom, where she was applying her makeup.

  “You don’t need a lot,” Gabe said. “Just something for emphasis.”

  Brighton looked at the screen. “Thanks, you’re sweet. And what in the world are you doing?”

  “Oh,” Gabe said, turning his head so that she could see his face. It was flushed, and he was sweating. “Bench-pressing.”

  “I didn’t know you had a bench-press machine.”

  Gabe picked up his phone and moved it so that Brighton could see the exercise equipment. “I’m upping my game, plus those flight-attendant uniforms seem to be shrinking.”

  “I thought only women worried about their weight,” she said. “I should really get into some program. I feel like a lazy cat next to Axel.”

  “Yeah, well, he gets paid to run bases and throw balls,” Gabe said. “So have you told your mom yet about Axel?”

  Brighton scoffed. “No, she’s the last person... well, one of the last people I’d tell, and that would only be if things were serious between me and Axel. I mean, she’d find a way to get him to pay for her vacations.”

  Gabe laughed. “Where is she now?”

  “She’s still in Mexico,” Brighton said. “It’s been over a week.”

  Gabe went back to bench-pressing. “Well, someday you’ll have a kid you can take advantage of.”

  “Ha.” Brighton stood back from the mirror and turned her face side to side. “With my track record, it will be the other way around. I’ll be one of those moms whose ten-year-old makes all the calls.”

  Gabe moved to a sitting position and used a towel to wipe his face. “I don’t think Axel will let that happen with his wifey.”

  Brighton laughed. “Wifey? Hardly. I’m not wife material for a guy like Axel Diaz.”

  Gabe lifted his brows. “So you’re just the eye candy?”

  “Working on it.” She leaned toward the mirror again and put on a layer of lip gloss. “Too much?” she asked, turning toward the phone.

  “Looks good from here,” he said, but his tone was somber. “You know, Brighton, for a beautiful woman—if I might say so without you thinking I’m coming onto you—you’re kind of dense.”

  She froze. “Well, that’s rude.”

  Gabe looked far from repentant. “Axel Diaz likes you. It’s obvious to everyone who’s around you guys. Yeah, he’s a pro baseball player, incredibly talented, set for life with money... but give yourself credit.”

  Brighton exhaled. “Well, thanks for the pep talk, but I don’t really get what he sees in me. Besides the eye-candy part, you know.”

  Gabe didn’t laugh. “Remember when he told you that he didn’t date?”

  “Yeah...”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Brighton sat on the edge of the tub. “He said he was busy, and his mom and sister need support, and the girls he did date only saw him as one-dimensional.”

  “That’s what he said verbally,” Gabe said. “But why do you really think he doesn’t date? I mean, he’s a red-blooded man with a pulse.”

  She exhaled. “I don’t know why. What are you driving at?”

  “I don’t know why either,” Gabe said. “But maybe you should find out, and then you’ll know why he’s going to be at your place in ten minutes, taking you someplace fancy.”

  “It’s not like I can ask him outright,” she said. “I mean, that would be like having the big ‘relationship’ talk.”

  “No,” Gabe agreed. “Just listen to him carefully. And trust in what he sees in you. You’re one in a million.”

  Brighton blinked against the stinging in her eyes. “Stop. I’m going to cry.”

  “Sorry,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “Don’t want to mess up that perfect eyeliner.”

  Brighton smiled. “Thanks for being you, Gabe. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a friend like you, who would quit his own job to protest for me.”

  Gabe grinned. “You know I love you, but stop being amazed at good things in your life. You deserve everything good.”

  She was about to reply when the doorbell rang. “Oh my gosh. He’s here. What do I do?”

  “Go answer the door,” Gabe said. “Have a great time, and make sure you don’t leave me in the dark. Hurry—don’t make him wait.”

  “I’m not ready,” she hissed, as if Axel could overhear her talking in the bathroom.

  “Ready enough,” Gabe said. “Tell him you need a minute, but don’t leave him out in the hall. What if Hippo comes out and tries to give him cookies?”

  “Don’t call her Hippo,” Brighton said. “She’s a sweet neighbor.”

  Gabe laughed. “Bye.” He hung up.

  Brighton left the bathroom and headed down the hall, her heart thumping. Axel Diaz was at her apartment. Just on the other side of her door.

  She looked through the peephole. There he was.

  Wearing a tuxedo.

  Brighton’s knees went all wobbly. He was wearing a tux? Where were they going?

  She looked down at her dress. It was a fitted, cream-colored dress with some sparkle in the fabric. The length hit her just above the knees, which made her wonder if it was formal enough.

  Well, it was too late now. Nothing else in her closet was any dressier.

  Brighton pulled open the door a few inches. “You didn’t tell me it was black tie.”

  “Hi.” Axel held up a bouquet of white roses.

  If Brighton hadn’t felt melty before, she was positively burning up now. “Wow. I mean, double wow, because you look...” She couldn’t even finish.

  His mouth curved into a smile, and his gold-brown eyes warmed. “Are you going to open the door, Brighton West, or leave me out here with your flowers?”

  She pulled the door wider, revealing her full self.

  His gaze slid down, then back up.

  “I think I’m underdressed,” she said, feeling strangely breathless. “But this is what you’re going to get. So take it or leave it.”

  Axel stepped forward. “I’ll take it.”

  And right there, in the doorway, he kissed her. Holy Hector.

  It was a brief kiss, but he lingered until Brighton thought she might hold him hostage and they’d miss whatever place he was taking her. Because he was warm, he smelled amazing, and everything about him was tempting.

  “So, uh,” she said, drawing away. “Where are we going?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Yeah, I got that part.” She waved at his attire. “But a tux? Are we meeting the president or something?”

  “No, but you might want some shoes.” His gaze had traveled the length of her again. “I like that dress.”

  Brighton would probably be blushing all night if he kept that up. “Come in.”

  When Axel Diaz stepped into her apartment, it was like it was transformed. First of all, it was much smaller than she remembered, and very girly. Brighton had flowered wallpaper, a floral area rug, dark-pink couches,
and floral throw pillows. When Gabe hung out at her place, he seemed to fit right in.

  But Axel was like a fish caught out of water. His eyes widened as he scanned the place. “Looks like these flowers are going to fit right in.”

  “Thank you for these.” She took the flowers and walked into the kitchen, with more flowery wallpaper and its floral tablecloth over the weathered kitchen table. She even had flower magnets on the fridge. Opening the cupboard over the fridge, she stretched to reach one of the vases in it.

  “I got it,” Axel said, moving to her side and easily reaching over her to grab a vase. “This okay?”

  “Yeah.” Brighton could hardly believe he was here, in her kitchen. She took the vase and turned away; she needed a bit of a breather from those gold-brown eyes of his. After filling the vase halfway with water, she unwrapped the roses and picked up the first stem, then added it to the vase.

  “Are you going to cut the ends off?” Axel asked.

  Brighton looked over at him. “Why?”

  He crossed to her and took the rose out of the vase. “My mom always cuts the ends by an inch or two so that they’ll absorb the water more and live longer. You also add this pouch of stuff to the water to nourish the roses.”

  Brighton looked at the pouch. “That’s what that was for.” She grabbed some kitchen shears from her knife set, then she set to work cutting off an inch from each stem.

  Axel added the pouch of powder, then set the roses in as she finished cutting each one.

  Not only had he brought the roses, but he was now arranging them.

  “Sorry to be so clueless,” she said. “No one has ever brought me flowers before.”

  Axel stilled, then turned his head to look down at her. “Seriously?”

  “I know, kind of pathetic, huh?” She laughed, although she didn’t fool him.

  He finished the roses, then said, “Do you want this on your table? Or maybe by your bed?”

  “Table’s fine,” she said.

  He set the vase on the table, then turned to her. “Nothing about you is pathetic. In fact, my sister wants your cell number so she can text you about books.”

  Brighton couldn’t have been more surprised. “Wow.”

  He moved closer. “You made an impression on her, but I don’t want you giving her any book recommendations that will, you know, encourage her to hate her brother.”

  Brighton looked up at him. “You mean like a book about a sixteen-year-old who’s in love with a vampire ten times her age?”

  Axel looked thoroughly confused and a bit panicked. “What?”

  She laughed. “I’m kidding. Well, sort of. I’m sure she’s already read the entire Twilight series.”

  The lines were still between his eyes. “Sounds familiar.”

  “We might have a Twilight marathon in our future.”

  Axel chuckled. “I don’t think I could live that one down. But my sister might be interested.”

  Brighton shrugged. “Then I’ll invite her. So send her my number. Not sure how we’re going to hide it from your mom, though.”

  Axel snagged her hand. “You don’t have to hide anything. If you want to meet my mom, then I’ll take you over there right now.”

  Going on this date with Axel was kind of overwhelming enough. “Maybe another time. Don’t we have someplace fancy to go?”

  His lips twitched. “We do.”

  She tugged her hand away. “I’ll get my shoes then, baseball boy. Don’t snoop while I’m gone.”

  He raised his hands like he had no intention of touching anything.

  Brighton hurried to her room and strapped on her high-heel sandals. Then she grabbed a clutch she’d set out on her dresser. Last she picked up her cell phone from the bathroom. Okay, this is happening. She exhaled and walked down the hallway.

  Axel was standing in the living room, looking at her row of pictures on the shelf above the TV. One was of her and her dad when Brighton was about five. Another of her and her mom at her high school graduation, along with Shane, husband number four. A third was of Brighton with Gabe, Tonya, and a couple of other flight-attendant friends at the company Christmas party.

  “Ready,” she said.

  “This your dad?” he asked, pointing to the right one.

  “Yeah,” she said. “And that’s my mom and husband number four. And you know Gabe.”

  “Does Gabe have a girlfriend?” Axel asked.

  “Not that I know of.” Brighton slipped her hand into his because she thought it was adorable when he acted a tiny bit jealous. “But he helped me pick out this dress.”

  “Gabe was here tonight?” he said.

  “This afternoon.” Brighton enjoyed how his gold-brown eyes flashed. Well. Maybe Axel did like her as much as Gabe claimed.

  Axel didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then his hand tightened around hers. “We shouldn’t be late. I’m the MC.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “This is it?” Brighton asked, peering out the passenger window of his truck at the event center they’d pulled up to. “Now can you tell me the big secret?”

  Axel stopped the truck, leaving the keys inside for the approaching valet, then got out. He walked around to her door and opened it. She climbed down, and he took her hand.

  “It’s a charity dinner,” he said in a low voice as they walked to the entrance. Others were heading inside as well. He nodded in greeting to a few of them.

  “And you’re the MC?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Welcome, Mr. Diaz,” a man said as soon as they stepped into the lobby.

  “Hi, Mr. Mills,” he said. “This is Brighton West. I hope it’s okay I brought a guest.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Mills said. “Welcome, miss. I’ll show you to your table; we’re about to start.”

  “Sorry to be later than I intended,” Axel said as they followed Mr. Mills into the ballroom.

  The lights were dim and the music soft, and candles flickered at the elegantly decorated tables with their china and crystal. People milled about, talking in hushed voices, wearing tuxedos and formal gowns.

  As Axel walked with Brighton, he sensed the notice of people. Last year, a couple of women had been obvious in their attentions and had handed over their numbers. Axel had never called either one.

  “You can sit here, miss,” Mr. Mills said, pulling out a chair. “Then Mr. Diaz will join you after the introductions.”

  Brighton nodded and took a seat. Axel headed for the podium, where he was sure the script would be. They’d emailed it over, but he’d only glanced at it. Most of the wording seemed the same year after year.

  Axel had first come to the Sports for Kids charity fundraiser when he was new to Seattle. One of the other Sharks players had planned to emcee the fundraising event, but he’d cancelled, so Coach had called on Axel.

  He’d gone out of duty, feeling reluctant, but by the end of the night, he was a convert. Sports for Kids raised money to distribute to underprivileged kids and paid for team and uniform fees.

  When Axel had first stood at the podium in the ballroom and looked over the crowd of elegant people willing to open their pocketbooks, he’d felt like that desperate twelve-year-old kid on his way to pawn his mother’s gold chain. Axel had read through the scripted lines, acting as the MC, and he was impressed with the mission and results of the organization.

  Then he sat at one of the banquet tables and watched the slideshow presentation of kids who’d been supported. Tears had burned in his eyes; it was as if life had come full circle. Here he was, in a position to help another kid. When the charity director handed over the MC honorarium at the end of the night, Axel had refused to take it.

  Now Axel was the MC for the third year in a row, and he’d never brought a date. He hoped that the evening would help Brighton get who he was and where he’d come from. He knew she saw past the baseball stuff anyway, but the more he was around her, the more he wanted to involve her in his life.

  Axel took
a drink from the glass of water on the podium, then read through the opening spiel of the mission of the charity and its growing successes. Then he read through the list of the silver, gold, then finally platinum donators, thanking them each in turn. Silver level donated up to $10,000 per year, gold level up to $25,000, and platinum level went up to $100,000 a year. When Axel arrived at his name on the list—as a platinum-level donator—he paused. “I guess I thank myself?”

  The guests laughed.

  Axel looked out over the tables and caught the glint of the off-white dress Brighton wore. She was smiling along with everyone else. Seeing her sitting at the table, knowing she’d come with him, sent nothing but warmth through him.

  “I think instead of thanking myself,” he said, moving his gaze over the other guests, “I’d like to thank all of you, especially Director Mills. Fourteen years ago, I was one of those kids. My dad’s alcoholism turned him into a man no longer fit to be a father and husband. He left, taking everything. If it weren’t for the compassion, and the open wallet, of a little-league coach in southern California, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

  Axel held up his water bottle, not quite the champagne that everyone else was drinking. “To all of you for your compassion. You are changing lives every day.”

  The guests held up their champagne glasses in the toast. Then they broke out in applause. Some rose to their feet, and soon everyone was on their feet clapping. But Axel took no credit. He clapped along with them. Director Mills approached and hugged Axel.

  “Thanks, Mr. Diaz,” the man said. “We’re glad you’re here too. And we appreciate your donation.”

  Axel smiled.

  “About halfway through dinner, we’ll start the slideshow,” Mills said. “You’re off the hook until then.”

  Axel patted Mills on the shoulder, then found his way to his table. He was stopped several times by guests wanting to shake his hand. When he reached the table, Brighton was there, waiting for him with a smile on her face.

  After greeting everyone, he draped an arm over the back of her chair and whispered next to her ear, “I’m glad you came.”

  She turned her head slightly, so that her earring brushed the edge of his jaw. “Thanks for inviting me, Axel. You’re amazing.”

 

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