by Jody Holford
Oliver sighed but nodded. The flight home was uneventful other than the dull throb. The guys had all wallowed in silence, which suited Sawyer just fine. It gave him time to let his mind wander. Though, most of the time, it’d wandered to Addie and her sweet laugh, her carefree gaze, and the fierceness that lit her eyes on fire when she was talking about something that mattered to her.
He didn’t walk through his door until nearly midnight. When he found his brother sleeping on his couch, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Jesus, Brooks. What are you doing here?”
Brooks rose into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. Three beer cans sat on Sawyer’s coffee table, and the containers from his takeout the night before were empty.
“Came to hang out. You weren’t here. Must have crashed.”
Sawyer sank into the armchair across from his sectional. Not because he wanted to catch up with his older brother but because he needed to get off his feet.
“You may have heard the Slammers made the playoffs, so I was sort of busy.”
Brooks went back and forth between using his brother for connections, status, and money and forgetting what Sawyer did for work. It wasn’t his fault, though, according to their mom. Everything had been easy for Sawyer, and Brooks had always gotten the broken side of the sword.
From the minute Sawyer had signed his major league deal, his mother had started saying that now, finally, Brooks would have a leg up in the world. As long as Sawyer didn’t mind his older brother standing on him to get it, there was no problem.
Last year, when Sawyer had gone to his mom’s to find Brooks and Sawyer’s then-girlfriend making out, things had changed. While before he might have humored Brooks and his harebrained ideas, now he didn’t even want to talk to him.
“I’m tired and need to go to bed.” Sawyer hoped Brooks wasn’t here to pitch another business venture or ask for a loan. Yeah, he had money, and he invested it so he wouldn’t be broke one day, but he was tired of being a walking ATM for his family.
“You guys win?” Brooks picked up a beer can, shook it, and frowned at its emptiness.
“No.”
His brother sat up, suddenly more awake. “Too bad, little brother. You win some, you lose some, right?”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Lena and I are getting married.”
Jesus. He had not seen that coming.
He hadn’t been in love with Lena, but it still sucked on several levels to have her hook up with his brother while he was on the road. His mother had waxed poetic about not being able to control who a person fell in love with and for the sake of peace, Sawyer had swallowed it down.
“Congratulations.”
Brooks smiled. “Thanks, man. We’re going to have an engagement party. I was thinking maybe you could get us a group reservation at Meat & Eats.”
Sawyer stood up. Of course Brooks wanted something. And if Sawyer said no, his mother would call him nonstop the next day asking why he couldn’t share his success and happiness with his family. He would have walked away from them if not for his grams.
“Sure. I’ll see what I can do. I need to get some sleep. Let yourself out.”
Brooks stood up. “That’s it? You don’t want to toast your big brother? Have a drink with me.”
“Another time. Seriously, though, congratulations. You and Lena were meant for each other.” Sawyer managed to make that sound like a good thing.
“We really were. She’s my everything, man. You should see the rock I bought her.”
Sawyer’s muscles coiled tight. “Oh yeah? Good to see you’re not blowing through money and had some to spend on it.”
Brooks rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, actually, about that.”
Weariness crept into every bone of Sawyer’s body. “What about it?”
“That check you gave me to pay off my truck? I used it for the ring, and now the payments are behind.”
He wanted to throw something or maybe wrap his fingers around his brother’s shoulders and shake sense into him.
“I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.”
“Goddamn it, Sawyer. You have more money than you’ll ever need. I can’t go without a truck, and what was I supposed to do? Propose to Lena with some knockoff bubblegum ring?”
“I seriously cannot do this right now. If you don’t leave right this minute, I’m going to say or do something that we’ll both regret. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Now get out.”
Brooks shook his head, cursing under his breath, but took him seriously and slammed his way out of Sawyer’s home.
Sawyer sank back into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
All he’d ever wanted was to play ball. He’d had tunnel vision for that one goal and had no idea, when he’d made it to the big leagues, how much his life and the people around him would change.
He’d lost the rose-colored glasses he accused Addie of wearing within the first couple years of his career. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was refreshing to be in her presence. She was so sure everything was going to turn out the way it should. Well, if he could get her to focus on getting his brother off his back instead of asking questions about his knee, things would be better.
He’d showered after the game, but nothing beat the pulsating jets and rainfall faucets in his own bathroom. Stepping in, he worked to wash away the disappointment and worry. The water sluiced over his skin, rejuvenating muscles he’d worked too hard. Tipping his head back, he pushed his hands through his hair, eyes closed. He’d been sure, after the three-game break, he was coming back stronger than ever. A strange, sharp twinge last week had him connecting with his college buddy who’d recommended an MRI. That wasn’t something Sawyer could get under the radar.
When he finally fell into bed long after midnight, so many things whirled in his brain that it was a wonder he wasn’t spinning. His brother was engaged, his knee ached, they’d lost the first game, and he’d been a dick to Addie the other day. It was the last thing he fell asleep thinking about, and somehow, the image of her face pushed everything else away and he was able to get some rest.
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, Lynette Glass, his agent, was waiting for him in front of the restaurant she’d chosen. At nearly six feet, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her jet-black hair was pulled away from her gorgeous face. Her dark skin was flawless and her high cheekbones and full lips were a photographer’s dream, but she didn’t want to be in front of the camera. She wanted to be closing the deals for the people who were. She was a damn good agent and she’d had his back more than once.
“There you are. No limping, no beer belly, you’re freshly shaved. I guess I shouldn’t have been worried,” she said, leaning forward so he could kiss her cheek. He wasn’t limping and he definitely felt better today than after the game.
“I wasn’t on vacation. Just getting better.” Plus, he was pretty good at working off any beer he drank.
She looped her arm through his. “Let’s talk about that.”
Sawyer chuckled. No shooting the breeze with her. She was all business, but he knew her clients mattered to her. She made it clear through her actions and the way she fought for them to get what they deserved.
The hostess led them to their seats at a corner table in the BBQ joint Sawyer loved and told them the waitress would be with them in a moment. Lynette picked up her menu.
“I’m starving. Let’s figure out what we want so we can get it out of the way.”
His lips tipped up. She was easy to smile around, and he sometimes forgot—especially when he got inside his own head—that he had people in his corner.
“I want one of each,” Sawyer said, not entirely joking.
Her dark eyes locked on his. “You could get away with it. Me? Not so much.”
Sawyer shook his head. She looked damn good, and she knew it. He loved a woman with confidence. Addie had plenty of it, but every now and a
gain, he caught a glimpse of vulnerability that made his heart jump. In her direction. You’re here to focus on your career. What’s left of it.
They ordered a couple of sodas and decided to share a family-style platter of BBQ chicken and pasta. Sawyer’s mouth watered when the waitress dropped off the complimentary bread. He broke it apart, ready to pop a chunk in his mouth.
“Sorry about the game, but your knee held up, and you guys played well. What did Liam and Isla say?” Lynette asked, picking up her own chunk of the toasted pan bread.
Stomach tightening, he held her gaze. “They brought in Mateo Voricco. They said they’re not pushing me out. They’re considering it an opportunity for the next generation to be mentored by the current superstars.” He hadn’t even started eating and his stomach felt like he’d ingested concrete. “That’s a direct quote.”
Lynette frowned around her bite of bread and pulled her purse off the chair she’d placed it on. She grabbed her hot-pink planner and opened it up to a tab that had his name.
“I’m going to talk to them. You’re not there to mentor. You’re there to play ball, and if they’re going to have a rookie come in, they damn well better not use your field time.” She made a couple of notes, so he made himself busy eating the bread.
“What else?”
After a drink of his soda to wash down the bread, he told her about the rest of the meeting; Isla’s “vision” as Addie had called it. He knew he’d hurt her feelings when he’d dismissed her friend’s intentions, but this was his life. If it didn’t work out—their mentorship idea—what then? The best player stayed? Started? Succeeded?
“Nothing. I did a charity thing a few nights back for MS.”
Her dark brows came together and she stared at him for a full beat before shaking her head. “You hate social functions.”
“I got roped into it,” he said. And he wasn’t even sorry.
“Interesting. Did you donate?”
Looking over her head, he cleared his throat. “Sort of. I, uh, was auctioned off. Brought in four grand.” Which he still couldn’t believe.
Lynette placed her hands flat on the table. “Were you held at gunpoint?”
He chuckled, heat rising on the back of his neck. “Nope.” It seemed better not to mention that he had, technically, been kidnapped.
“Well, this newfound willingness to share yourself with the public works out well for me and the rest of this conversation,” she said.
The waitress came to drop off plates full of mouthwateringly good-looking food. She asked if they had everything they needed, and Sawyer stopped short of asking for a bib. He was starving. They loaded up their plates before he turned over what Lynnette had said in his head.
“I don’t like parading myself in public like a freaking show dog,” he said around a huge bite.
She knew this about him and generally respected it. He knew that a lot of guys made some serious coin for endorsing hot spots with their presence, showing up at parties to schmooze, and making a splash in the media. That was all fine for them, but unless he was playing ball, Sawyer had no interest in being in front of a camera. If it was a name brand endorsement, sure. As long as he actually believed in the product. For someone who had grown up with little and had a family full of people with their hands out, he should have been less discerning. But he hadn’t worked his ass off to get to The Show just so he could nickel and dime it. He was an athlete, not a twenty-something Instagrammer checking out the new clubs.
“Well, other than the celebrity dance event, which is televised, and the game show, which I’ve been informed you wiggled out of, you’re off the hook in that regard for now. However, I’m having a party at my place tomorrow, and before you say no”—she huffed out a breath when he started to do that—“it’s to meet a few people and mingle. The fact is you are getting to the end of your baseball-playing career regardless of what happened with your knee. I’m assuming you’re not going to don a pair of plaid pants and spend all your days golfing, so this is something you need to do. A few of the people attending work for sports networks. That might be a good next step for you. Maybe in a consultant position. Some camera time but not a lot.”
See. She knew him well. He didn’t want to give shout-outs on twitter, but he could damn well talk ball with other former athletes. He nodded. Okay. He could do that.
“Fine. Where is it?”
“My condo. Not that you need any help with the ladies, but Alyssa Davay will be there. She has a little crush on you and has brought you up more than once. She’s extremely excited about the dance event. You two would certainly photograph well.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. He’d be happy to owe Addie for the rest of his life if she could find a way to extricate him from that. Alyssa was an actress he’d successfully managed to avoid spending one-on-one time with. From what he’d experienced, she wasn’t so bad. It was her agent who’d cornered him at more than one event. Those conversations focused on complaining about the job of making Alyssa famous for more than being a pretty face. Without her agent, Alyssa seemed fine but Sawyer didn’t like the feeling he got from the other woman. He also got the distinct impression that her agent believed there was some sort of cache that came with being on a sports star’s arm. It was easier to avoid both of them. Sawyer had enough people in his life who wanted something from him. He had no desire to have Alyssa—or her team—be part of that.
He swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “I’m bringing a date.”
Lynette’s eyes went wide. “You certainly are full of surprises, Sawyer.” He caught the sly smile on her lips before she took another bite.
Yeah. He was even surprising himself.
Chapter Eleven
Addie drove home thinking of the tub of Ben & Jerry’s waiting in her freezer for a day like this. One where everything that could have gone wrong, did. One that made her question if she actually knew what she was doing. And not just in Nashville or at the Slammers but in life.
Parking in the residents’ lot, she tried to remember which pajamas she’d washed. She had to have at least one pair, right? Except she’d been so busy lately that laundry had taken a backseat. Irritation flitted along her skin as she made her way to the front of the building.
She drew up short at the sight of Sawyer leaning against the glass doors. The spark of attraction that ignited fueled her irritation.
“The sign beside you says no loitering or soliciting,” she said, finding the right key.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “How about kidnapping? Turnabout seems like fair play.”
She shook her head and gave a weary sigh. “No. You have to do a sneak attack for that to work. You can’t just show up and be like, hey, I’m taking you with me somewhere. Clearly, you need to work on this.” Doing her best to ignore his presence and the delicious scent that he apparently owned, she stuck her key in the lock and opened the glass entry door.
“Hmm. You made it look so easy,” he said, following her in.
There was a small piece—tiny, really—of her that was happy to see him. And how pathetic was that when he’d been so…dismissive of her the other day. You caught the hint of vulnerability under it, though, and now you’re hooked. She didn’t need her psych degree to know that was messed up. There was something about him. Something she’d planned to forget about until she’d seen him standing there waiting for her.
She pressed the button for the elevator. “What are you doing here, Sawyer? And how did you know where I live? Have you been following me?” That’s right, make jokes. Easier than dealing with the funnel of emotion twisting inside right now.
“I have friends in high places.”
Addie turned, arched her brow in a way she’d practiced for moments just like this. “Liam?”
He nodded. “I need a date.”
Whoa. Do not read into that, Addison Carlisle. She worked to keep her imaginary cool. “Would you like me to recommend someone or perhaps announce that on social media for you? Is Ms. G
elway’s dance card full? You had fun at the auction the other night.”
The doors slid open, and he followed her in, trapping her in close quarters. He stood in her personal space, making her have to tip her head back to look at him.
One finger grazed her cheek and settled under her chin. “Long day, Addie?”
The tenderness in his tone, the look of compassion in his stupidly sexy eyes nearly unknotted all her frustration. She took a shuddery breath and leaned into his touch before she caught herself. Moment of weakness over, she stepped back.
“Really, what are you doing here?”
The doors slid open again on the third floor. Sawyer walked beside her to the apartment she rented. It belonged to the Slammers’ lawyer. Isla had briefly stayed there but now lived with Cruz. Unlocking the door, resigning herself to inviting him in, she pushed it open.
But if he thought he was getting any of her Half Baked, he was wrong.
When he shut the door behind him, she started to repeat her question and was brought up short by Sawyer’s gaze. He was staring at her like she had something he wanted—his arms hung at his sides and he’d stepped toward her, silently asking to close the gap between them. She gave the subtlest of nods and stepped into him. He wrapped his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt so much more than right, she lost her ability to speak. His body was hard but his embrace was soft. Sweet. Because she loved hugs and he was giving her an especially nice one, she gave in to it. Resting her head against his chest, she fought back an unexpected wave of tears.
“I’m sorry about the other day. I was a jerk,” he said into her hair.
“Thank you.” Just like that, she knew if he asked, she’d share her damn ice cream. She leaned back and added, “Sorry about the game, too. You guys worked hard.”
He nodded. “My meeting with Isla and Liam that day sucked. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Especially since you were the best part of my day.”
She held his gaze. “I’m sorry about your meeting. I did get a chance to talk to Isla today, and when I brought up the mentorship, she said that she’s hoping to extend it beyond the players. She talked about reaching out to high schools and youth groups.”
