The Boyfriend Contract

by Victoria James

  “You should join,” Cooper said, and before she could answer he walked past them, back into the dining room. Her heart raced and she almost broke out into a sweat. She should do this. It would be good for her, another way for her to break out of her shell, out of the mold she’d been forced into. She smiled at Callie. “Okay. But you have to come over and help.”

  Callie squealed and put her arm around her. “You won’t regret this.”

  Chapter Six

  Emily decided that her lofty goal of giving up Cheetos and Diet Coke was going to end this weekend. With all the stress in her life—the latest being the upcoming baseball game in which she was certain she’d make a fool of herself—this was precisely the time for Cheetos and Diet Coke. Wasn’t the whole ‘stress-eating’ term exactly this situation? She hadn’t busted open a bag since Cooper had mentioned the Cheetos-dust and she hadn’t touched a Diet Coke since moving here. But this baseball game was seriously trying her resolve. Peach Perrier wasn’t going to cut it. She could eat the Cheetos on the porch so it wouldn’t attract any mice in the house.

  She adjusted her ponytail and crouched, picking a few random weeds near the front walkway to her home while going back and forth on her resolutions. She was waiting for Callie to come and give her baseball lessons, but her friend was clearly running late. Everyone had gone home for the day, and she was exhausted and seriously questioning why she ever agreed to this.

  She glanced up, squinting against the sun setting over the barn, as the sound of tires crunched against gravel. Her stomach dropped when she realized it was Cooper’s truck pulling into the driveway instead of Callie’s jeep. She stood slowly, pulling her Blue Jays cap lower over her eyes. She prayed frantically that maybe Callie had borrowed her brother’s truck. She held her breath to see who would emerge and then she tried not to cry as Cooper rounded the corner, stopped at the cab of his truck, and pulled out a bat, two gloves, and a bucket of something.

  He walked toward her, and she reminded herself this was her new life, the life where she had oodles of confidence. Except she was about to make a fool of herself in front of him, and no amount of confidence could fix that. Cooper was the problem, maybe. He was too…much of everything. Too intense, too attractive, too…much. If it hadn’t been cool out, she was pretty sure she’d have broken out in a sweat just watching him make his way over to her. She had already memorized the way he walked; it wasn’t a swagger, but it might as well have been, because it had the same effect on her. He was wearing a battered Blue Jays cap, worn jeans, and one of those soft, shoulder-hugging T-shirts with their construction company name in white letters on the front.

  “Hi,” he said as he put the bat down along with a bucket full of baseballs.

  She forced her lips into what she hoped was a carefree smile, not the smile of a woman about to disgrace herself. “Uh, hi. What happened to Callie?”

  “Both of the girls working the shop canceled, so she had to fill in.”

  Great. What were the odds? She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Oh. Well, you don’t have to do this. I’m sure you’re wiped after working all day on this old place.”

  He handed her a glove. “Not a problem. It’s our final game of the season and I’d hate to forfeit due to lack of players. So, what do you need help with?”

  She swallowed hard and winced. “Um, everything?”

  He gave a laugh but then stopped when she didn’t join in. “Seriously?”

  She clutched the glove tightly, trying to hold onto her pride. “I told Callie I’ve never played. I believe I tried telling all of you that at your parents’ house on Sunday. I’m a baseball nerd in the sense that I watch every game and know the rules and all that. But…actually playing, um. No.”

  She watched what she assumed was irritation flicker across his eyes, and she had to fight the urge to just leave. She didn’t need to be made fun of. She’d been shamed and told she was stupid one too many times in her life; she didn’t need that from him. This was her new life. In her new life, she wasn’t inferior anymore. In her new life, she was enough, just the way she was. In her new life, she wasn’t afraid to admit she didn’t know how to do something. In her new life, she tried new things. She lifted her chin and tried to act like the person in her head she wanted to be. “Ya know, I was there when you said I should join. Maybe you should do a better job of scouting prospects before you ask them.”

  He grinned and ducked his head momentarily. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were filled with warmth that made her toes curl and her breath catch. “You’re right.”

  She nodded, trying to play it cool. “If you don’t have time for this, that’s okay. I’m sure you guys can find someone else to play this weekend.”

  “I’m a great coach. You’ll catch on in no time. No pun intended.”

  She attempted a smile at his humor, but her initial concern of looking stupid came back quickly. “Funny. Great. Let’s get started.”

  “Okay. What do you want to start with? Batting or tossing the ball around?”

  Both were going to go epically bad, but hitting did seem like more fun whenever she watched a game. “Batting. I think I’d be good at batting.”

  “Perfect. I brought Callie’s bat, it’ll be the right size and weight for you. Be right back.”

  She wasn’t so nervous that she didn’t notice the very fine view he provided as he turned around and jogged to his truck. A few minutes later she was breaking out into a sweat as he handed her the bat and then positioned himself a few yards away. “Okay, so I’ll start off really easy. All you have to do is swing.”

  “Oh, great. No problem. Just hit the moving target,” she said. Why had she said she thought she’d be good at batting? She turned slightly, holding the bat over her shoulder like she’d seen the MLB players do hundreds of times. It looked easy enough.

  Cooper was facing her, ball and glove ready. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” she choked.

  True to his word, the ball came toward her gently, and she swung a home-run swing, but the ball landed with a thud on the grass behind her. “Oops,” she said, grabbing the ball and tossing it back to him underhanded.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Your swing is good. Just uh, try keeping your eyes open when the ball approaches.”

  She inhaled sharply. She’d closed her eyes? “I did. I’m pretty sure I would know if I closed my eyes.”

  “Ya’ closed them, Em.”

  It was either the softness of his tone or the “Em” that sent a rush of warmth through her body and made the fact that she closed her eyes sting a little less. “Okay, I’ll keep them open this time. Promise.”

  He threw the ball and this time she kept her eyes open, but still missed. Ugh. How hard was it to hit a slow pitch? “Maybe we should have started with catch?”

  He shook his head and walked over to her. “Nah. You’ll get the hang of this. I’m going to help you correct your swing, though. You’re kind of doing a tennis serve thing.”

  That was almost funny, especially since she’d never even played tennis.

  “I’m just going to fix your form a bit,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders gently and turning her.

  “Sure,” she croaked, pretending like his hands on her weren’t causing some kind of massive spark throughout her body.

  “Okay, now pick up the bat, and I’m going to adjust your hand position,” he said, standing behind her.

  She followed his instructions and stopped breathing when his arms wrapped around her from behind and his hands settled on hers.

  “Just so we’re clear, this is all about baseball. I’m not practicing my ladies’ man moves.” His deep voice was laced with laughter.

  She let out a strangled laugh. “The thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind at all.”

  “That these are my moves or that I’d be practicing?”

  Her heart raced at his nearness, the feel of his hands on her, the intimacy in his voice. “That you
’d practice on me, obviously.”

  “Right,” he said in a thick voice. “I’ll try not to take it personally that you think I need any practice at all.”

  She didn’t move for a second as he took a step away from her, and something clung in the air between them, glittered in his blue eyes as he stared at her. “It’s not personal.”

  “How ’bout we try a few more pitches?”

  She nodded, relieved the moment was gone. “I’m ready. If I miss, it’s your fault.”

  He grinned and her heart skipped a few beats. “Done.”

  His smile fell when she missed the next three pitches. Her face grew warmer and warmer, and their banter died. “Maybe we should try catch now?” she suggested, desperate to move through all this as quickly as possible. There was no way she’d be a great ball player after only one practice anyway.

  “I’m not giving up. Let’s end on a high note. I pitch until you hit one. You’re a homerun run-hitter, I know it.”

  Her heart swelled at his determination and the unexpected patience he was showing her. “Okay then.”

  “Also, the other team’s best pitcher is out with a sore shoulder. The rest of the guys can pitch well, but not as fast as him. Remember if the pitch is coming too close to try and get out of the way, and if you can’t, and it’s an inside pitch, turn your shoulder so the ball hits you in the back.”

  “Oh great. I love getting hit by a baseball in the back,” she said.

  He gave a short laugh and got back into position. “Don’t worry, it’ll sting, but at least it won’t be a serious injury.”

  Ten pitches later, she had the thrill of making contact and watching the ball fly toward the barn. “I did it!” she said with disbelief.

  He grinned. “Hit one like that and you’ll be batting clean-up,” he said. She knew he was exaggerating but he’d managed to make an otherwise uncomfortable situation into something rewarding and positive.

  “Ready to toss the ball around?”

  She swallowed hard. She’d never even put her hand in a baseball glove before, let alone toss a ball around and then somehow catch it again. But if she could hit, how hard could it be to catch? “Sounds great!”

  He was moving away from her, tossing a ball in the air and catching it effortlessly. He kept walking backward, and the farther he went the more panicked she felt. She took a deep breath. You’ve watched baseball. How hard could it be to throw a ball in the direction of his glove? You take chances now, remember? And just because she hadn’t actually caught a ball in a glove didn’t mean she couldn’t catch. Of course she had caught things in her lifetime. Bags of Cheetos from a friend at school. Diet Cokes across the university dorm room. C’mon. She could do this.

  “Ready?” he yelled, when she hadn’t moved an inch or even put the glove on.

  She shoved her hand into the glove he’d provided and nodded. The moment he released the ball it seemed to fly through the air at a dangerous speed, but she forced herself to keep her eye on it and lift her glove in the general direction. But it was too close, too fast, and instead of making the catch as all her favorite players did, she yelped and shielded her head.

  A part of her really wished the ball had hit her in the head and she could fake some kind of concussion. That would take the focus off the fact that she had just screamed at a ball instead of catching it. Emily Birmingham was not a stranger to humiliation, but this was a new kind. For one, it had happened in front of one of the hottest men she’d ever met. Two, this was her new phase of life, the one where humiliation wasn’t supposed to follow.

  The ball hit the ground with a thump and rolled into the shrubs. She didn’t dare look in Cooper’s direction, because he was probably staring at her in horror or disgust.

  “The sun was in my eyes!” she managed to yell as she crouched, searching for the ball. That was a great excuse and she gave herself kudos for thinking of it on the spot, while at the same time reflecting on how humiliation seemed to follow her everywhere. She wasn’t a kid anymore, she wasn’t even around the same people or in the same place anymore, so how could her insecurities still exist, how could they still be relevant? At what point in her life would she finally be able to be rid of past hurt?

  As she knelt on all fours and extended her hand under the prickly evergreens, she psyched herself up to stand and face Cooper again. She wouldn’t quit. On the bright side, it would be her turn to throw. Throwing had to be easier than catching. You can do it, Emily. She grabbed the ball in one hand and brushed off the dirt with her glove on the other as she stood. She turned around and yelped when she ran into Cooper’s wall of a chest.

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding worried. Like maybe he was wondering if there was something wrong with her.

  “Oh, no problem. Okay, my turn. Go, run out there,” she said, pointing in the direction of the large maple tree in front of the barn. He didn’t move, though. Instead, that weird expression flickered across his face. Oh, pity. Maybe that was it.

  “Let me just fix something first,” he said in a voice that wasn’t mocking, but rather, sympathetic.

  She shifted from one foot to the other. “Sure. Whatever you think is best.”

  He took the glove from her and gently shoved her hand into the glove—having the good manners to not say out loud that she’d had the wrong hand in the glove—which made her want to run and hide. She winced and made eye contact with him.

  “No worries,” he said, without a hint of sarcasm or gloating. It was such a nice thing, such a character-revealing expression, that the back of her eyes stung. Where had men like this been all her life? “Okay, let’s do a light ball toss from a closer distance. We can switch sides so that the sun isn’t in your eyes.”

  She rolled her lips inward and nodded, stifling the urge to groan with embarrassment when he only moved about five feet away and then tossed her the ball underhanded, as though he were throwing to a five-year-old. She managed to open her glove in time and then close it awkwardly. The ball didn’t fall. She had done it. She wanted to do a happy dance or throw her hands in the air or something, except that seemed sad. Like, she’d be advertising her weaknesses. She’d learned long ago to never do that.

  “Nice catch,” he said, moving back a few more steps. They continued like this for what seemed a long time, with her making awkward catches and him throwing silently then moving farther away when she caught the ball. The sun had set a while ago, and the faint sound of rolling thunder echoed through the forest around them. She was hoping he’d suggest they quit and avoid getting stuck in the rain, but evidently he thought she needed help so badly that it was worth the risk of getting struck by lightning.

  Maybe an hour later, he was back to where he originally started, and she stood there, deciding it was time to make a real throw. She needed to test her skills and not be afraid of missing the target. She drew her arm back past her shoulder, and when she brought it forward again, the ball left her hand with the force of a pro ball player. She watched proudly as it soared over the long distance between them. Alarm filled her as she realized it was way too high, way too wide. Cooper may have been a college-level ball player, but there was no way he’d make that catch, and it was heading straight for the living room Gothic windows.

  She heard him curse as he made an impressive jump to attempt to catch her wild ball, but he missed it by five feet too wide and about five feet too low. She squeezed her eyes shut as the sound of glass shattering filled the otherwise quiet yard.

  She forced herself to run over to where he was standing, just as the sky decided to dump the rain it had been threatening the last hour. Cooper didn’t even flinch. “Sorry,” she said, stealing a sideways glance.

  He turned to her, and she braced herself for the sarcastic remark that was inevitable. “It was a pretty impressive throw. I think you have a future in the outfield.”

  As cold rain plastered her hair to her head and ran down her face, she stared at the man she decided she wanted to keep. She opened her
mouth but didn’t know what to say, because Cooper had just inadvertently helped her overcome one of her biggest insecurities. She had put herself out there, had attempted something she’d never done before, had displayed her vulnerability for him to see…and the world had gone on. No one had mocked her. No one had laughed at her. She felt…free, light, giddy.

  He turned around and stared up at the gaping hole in the one window that hadn’t needed repairing before now. “That’s going to be a problem.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just added to the work around here,” she said, cringing.

  “Don’t worry about it. It can easily be fixed next week.”

  She knew he was just being nice. “Thanks. But if you need to get going, that’s fine,” she said, taking off the glove and pretending like everything that had just happened was normal, and that she’d be fine dealing with the giant hole in her house.

  “As if,” he said, before heading toward his truck. He was staying. He wasn’t going to take off on her. Everything about him had been different today, as though he was giving her a glimpse of the man he really was. Staring at the broken window, she cursed her bad aim. The floors in the living room had just been refinished. She needed to figure out how to seal the window and get rid of the broken glass and dry the floors before they were damaged. She turned to leave and spotted Cooper pulling his toolbox out of his truck and walking toward her. “Let’s go deal with that window,” he said, not breaking his stride.

  She turned on a few lights as they walked through the quiet and dark house. As soon as they entered the living room, the draft from the window hit her body, chilling her through her wet clothes.

  “I’m going to go see if I can find some wood to board up this window,” Cooper said, taking out a measuring tape. She shivered from the dropping temperatures and her wet clothes but didn’t say anything because he was soaked as well. His shirt clung to him, highlighting his muscled form to perfection. Not that she was noticing.