by Natalie Wrye
“Some unidentified car following us with God-knows-what intention isn’t safe, either, kitten.” He whispers back. “And I have Charlie to think about.” He glances back at the hired driver, his stubbled jaw rigid. “There’s another hundred in it for you, if you can go any faster. Two, if you lose that car behind us.”
My glare closes on him, my fingers gripping onto the back of his passenger-side seat. My tone sinks even lower. “I don’t think you’re thinking clearly about anything right now. We need to slow down.”
“I will be the judge of that.”
“Not with three other lives in the car, you won’t.”
“I’m just doing what’s best for all of us. I’m trying to keep us safe.”
My teeth grind, my heart now hammering as the car speed ticks up by another ten miles per hour. A car honks as we barely make a red light, speeding past as the light changes color.
I hear Charlie whimper next to me, and I nearly lose it. My voice lowers to a hiss. “I’m not really feeling safe right now.” I whisper lower. “And it doesn’t look like Charlie is, either.”
Sevin peers over my shoulder out the rearview window as the engine rumbles loudly around us, the air inside the black truck growing thin. The shadowed half of his face eclipsed by his baseball cap seems even darker somehow.
But before he can answer, the silver sedan turns a corner behind us, somewhere out of sight.
They weren’t following us after all.
And less than a few minutes later, the driver pulls into the motor court of the hotel, a giant smile on his face.
Even in the absence of the silver car we thought was following us, the face-off between Sevin and I stretches on, and we stare unendingly at each other, neither of us backing down—unwilling to give the other an inch.
The driver is the first to speak.
“Uh, that will be two hundred dollars…please.”
Sevin whips out his wallet without breaking eye contact with me. He grabs two large-faced bills. Finally glancing over at the driver, he lays two hundred dollars in his hand, slipping the thin wallet back in his coat.
His green eyes are hidden from my view as he looks past me.
“Come on, Charlie.” He beckons to the little girl in the back seat, his expression unclear. “Let’s get you inside. It’s late.” He pauses, his gaze roaming over me. “I’ll have the hotel send up some hot cocoa before you go to sleep. Deal?”
The precocious ball of energy nods, forgetting all about ants and following sedans. “Deal.”
And then he hops out. He leaves me dumbfounded in the back seat as he walks around the truck.
Opening Charlie’s door, he escorts the eight-year old out of her seat, with me following stolidly. My footsteps barely create a dent in the Arizona dust on the sidewalk, and I huddle against the west coast desert’s deepening cold, the chill from the now dark sky sneaking its way under my clothes.
I sigh once we make it to our floor, stopping in front of the suite door, knowing that it will be just me and Charlie tonight after Kayla took off to New York at Stephan’s request.
Charlie slaps hands with Sevin, scrambling into the suite, presumably to turn on some of my favorite cartoons.
But me? I’m still dusting the long day and orange dirt from my shoes and clothes as Sevin faces me by the closed door, his face unreadable, a thin line drawn across his full mouth. He doesn’t say a word.
“Look…” I amble closer. “Why don’t we just call it a night? I’m tired.” I motion towards him. “You’re tired. I’m sure we all could use a good night’s rest.” I reach my hand out to shake Sevin’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The dangerously grim baseball pro stares at my hand, but doesn’t shake it. Instead he wraps it inside his own, his touch warm and tender—soft as his fingers play against my palm.
Until the door to my hotel suite swings open, and Charlie emerges from the now open doorway, her green eyes panicked.
“Felix is gone!”
“Charlie,” Sevin interjects softly, “Felix is a smart cat. I’m sure he just ran out when housekeeping came in.”
“But he’s out there alone.”
Sevin hesitates. “In the hallways he loves so much. He’ll come back soon. He’ll be fine.”
“But Emily said that he belongs to everyone in your apartment building.” She glances up at him with moon-like eyes, her stare growing glassy. “That means he belongs to us a little bit, doesn’t it? And it’s starting to get cold outside. Really cold. I could tell. What if Felix freezes outside in the cold?”
Her melodic little voice starts to reach into panic, stabbing me with pangs of guilt.
I glance up and into Sevin’s eyes, discovering the same pangs there. And though I know I should run while I have a chance, though I know I should grab onto the semblance of the serious lawyer I once was when this all began—the lawyer who once knew better than to risk her case by becoming emotionally entangled with a client, I feel myself losing my internal battle.
Especially with Charlie still gazing up at me with those weepy green eyes.
The ever-present hot and cold between Sevin and me thaws under the spell of Charlie’s concern for the hallway cat and something else—something warmer—ignites between us.
And for the first time since last night, Sevin looks at me—really looks at me.
I want to say something smart, something snarky to break the tension, but then he reaches down, wrapping his hand around mine and Charlie’s, a resigned smile working its way to his chiseled face. His eyes light up.
“I guess we’ve gotta got us a cat to find, don’t we?”
I nod robotically at him, and he lets me go.
“But I don’t care how many cat cartoons you two have watched or much you’ve bonded with this new little fur ball. One little incident or scratch, and I’m handing him over to mean old Mrs. Headley. Feel free to report that to the rest of the MyNeighbor app.”
Chapter 14
SEVIN
Friday night
The victory over the Bruisers should still feel good to me.
The bastards have been kicking our asses all spring training season, and in the back of my mind, I know beating them should feel better than sex.
And if this were a year ago—Hell, a few months ago, after a win like this, that’s exactly what I’d be doing.
Having sex. Having lots of it.
But not after last night. Because last night changed things.
Emily’s in my goddamned head, and I can’t get her out.
I thought Naomi’s news about Charlie’s mysterious mother would ruin whatever focus I’d found towards the game I love so much.
But it didn’t.
In a matter of minutes after hearing proof that the blackmail might be a scam, that Charlie might not be mine, I should have been elated.
But my entire train of thought was turned around, flipped over front and backwards.
Any joy I might feel was tumbled and turned inside out the second I saw the two of them there—Charlie and Emily, standing in the stadium. Clad in Chicago Cougars jerseys and denim, you couldn’t miss those one-hundred watt smiles anywhere.
Especially not the gorgeous, lithe, normally business-suited lawyer in the crowd, side-hugging the bright-eyed little girl beside her.
I was drawn to them inexplicably.
My damn neighbor. My current ‘fixer.’ And the eight-year old she was helping me with.
And it still got to me, that out of all the elevators in the world, she had to walk into mine. Or rather I walked into hers.
I’d been drawn to the strong-willed lawyer since that luck-fated elevator ride that left her on my mind for nights to come.
And then Charlie.
She’d come into my life at what should have been the worst time possible. But having her here was something I was getting used to.
Dangerously used to. Considering who the hell I was, had been all these years. Looking out for no one but myself.
I never had to.
I never wanted to be a father. I knew I wouldn’t be good at it.
But the knowledge that I could be, the thought that the eight-year old ball of grit and fire could be mine didn’t scare the goddamned dickens out of me in the moment that I saw her in the crowd—cheering and waiting for the game to start… And that was the scariest part of all.
And I didn’t even know if I believed I was her father or not. I didn’t know if I could believe a word of it.
But after Naomi dropped her little bomb on me, I did know that I needed to focus on that damn game.
Five minutes after Naomi left, ten minutes before the spring game against the Bruisers, as I tightened my grip on my lucky baseball bat harder, preparing for another practice swing, a chill of hyper-awareness ran down my neck.
Like in that lonely locker room, back in Chicago.
I was still hundreds of miles away from the Windy City, and I still felt as if someone was watching me.
Eyes on the horizon, I geared up for the game, the Scottsdale sky blurring with its light-polluted stars when I heard the crunch of grass behind me, confirming my suspicions.
I turned, facing off against a pair of cement gray eyes.
“What the fuck, man?” My old teammate Lenny Rodriguez drilled me with a daggered stare. “You mind putting that bat down?”
“Shit.” Lowering the baseball bat, I slapped hands with the Milwaukee Bruiser player. “Sorry about that, bro. Just got…a lot on my mind.”
“I can see that.” He grinned. “Tell me: Does that ‘something on your mind’ come in a size six with beautiful tits?”
“You sure you and Sawyer didn’t come out the same womb?”
“I’m just saying, brother,” the big lug slapped me on my shoulder. “Since the cops showed up and the party ended early, I thought you might be having a small party of your own with that bunny you’d been talking to.”
Oh, yeah, that’s right. Daphne. The one who interrupted what could have been a fantastic night with Emily.
Sawyer’s Miss Bunny of the Year’.
The night prior suddenly felt like forever ago, so much having changed in twenty-four hours.
The day before, I’d been a single athlete, nearly seeking my next conquest. Today? I was someone else.
A caretaker. Possibly, a father. And a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman in the crowd in some of the best seats in Bruiser stadium.
Out of her normal business blouse and skirt, fitting delectably in a Chicago Cougar shirt and cap, Emily Armand laughed out loud, one hand perched on Charlie’s bouncing shoulder.
The pair were a sight to see, snuggled closely under the chilled desert night, two foam fingers fitted neatly over each hand.
The Milwaukee Bruiser mascot circled the stadium to get the fans riled up, and somehow it felt that the only one who was getting riled up…was me.
Some part of my heart that I didn’t know existed warmed at the thought of the saucy-tongued brunette and the even saucier eight-year old becoming friends, and in a flash, I imagined what my life would be like if things were different.
If Emily and Charlie were waiting for me at the end of a long night. If I could come back to my penthouse to more than one-night-stands and my trainer’s texts. If Emily and I were…
“Earth to Sevin.” Emily waves a hand in front of my face, and the memory of the day fades just as fast. “We just lost Felix. I’m not sure I can take losing you.”
I blink, bringing my focus back to the present. “Sorry. I was just…thinking of earlier.”
“The game?”
I nod, continuing to walk beside the sexy attorney.
The suddenly mute lawyer and I follow Charlie to yet another floor in search of Felix, the mangy beast that has already wreaked havoc in our lives, I can’t take the silence between Emily and I anymore, my anger from earlier melting with every corner we cross.
I put my hands in the pockets of my sweat pants.
“I was an asshole to you.”
The sentence is a whisper behind Charlie’s back, and Emily doesn’t look at me.
“Excuse me?”
I gaze at Charlie’s back a few feet away, trying to keep my voice low.
“I said I was an asshole to you.” I inhale deeply, still walking. “Last night. Tonight. Hell, lots of nights before. The notes I left you on the neighborhood bulletin board…” I trail off, thinking of just the last twenty minutes.
I grind my teeth. “Fuck, scratch that. I was an asshole to you in the car. I was an asshole to you at your apartment. I’ve been an asshole. My assistant Naomi can tell you better than most. I’m not good at handling most aspects of life besides a baseball bat.” I scoff. “God knows how hard I try… It’s just not in me.”
Emily ambles beside me, her hands holding her own elbows, her arms crossed. “I wouldn’t say that’s true. You seem to be handling this paternity-blackmail situation pretty well. I’ll give you that.”
I snort out loud, the sound as pathetic as I feel. We turn another carpeted corner on the tenth floor, and I wait, making sure Charlie can’t hear us, her little footsteps echoing.
“I’m doing a good job of pretending I’m fine. But in reality? I’m pretty damn freaked. Guess you could tell that at your apartment when Stephan and I showed up.”
She laughs, and I like listening to it, the sound tinkling and sweet in the empty hallway. Our shoulders brush as we walk.
“I could kinda tell that you were stressed, but I figured that’s normal.” She hesitates before saying the rest. “Kayla filled me in on a few details about what you’re going through—the trade to the Cougars, co-owning a bar with her fiancé, adjusting to a new city and team. I can’t…imagine.”
She shakes her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders—soft enough to touch. I ball my fist.
“Your team’s been going through a lot. You’re going through a lot.” She lowers her voice an octave, and her tone is so sultry I almost close my eyes. I continue walking.
“And I shouldn’t have said what I said on the ride here. I was out of line.” She goes on talking. “I judged you, Sevin. I’ve been judging you. It’s just…my ‘normal.’ I guess that’s why I don’t have many people in my life. Sometimes, I don’t let people get close enough to get a chance. In the past, when I have let people get close, it’s been…”
She lets the statement linger, and I’m tempted to press. She seems so open.
Outside of the elevator and MyNeighbor app, I’ve been dying to get the guarded brunette alone, and though Charlie is barely out of earshot, her round, wide eyes searching the halls for Felix, I can’t stop myself from digging deeper, my curiosity besting me even now.
I let my eyes drift towards her face, enjoying the view.
“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well? Letting people get close?”
Her shoulders hunch. “You could say that.”
“I don’t get it.” I mock quietly. “Who wouldn’t want to be around for all that cartoon trivia and bad nineties music of yours?”
Emily laughs. “Oh, fuck you very much.”
“I’m serious. I only know one woman in the world who can quote ten different cartoon cats and all fifty-something members of a Lilith Fair concert from nineteen ninety-seven. Your brain holds a wealth of natural treasures.”
“And what about you, Mr. Stuck in the Sixties?”
“What about me?”
“If I had to hear another Led Zeppelin or Jim Morrison record coming from my ceiling...”
“Were you going to sic Felix on me?”
“Worse.” She glances over. “Mean old Mrs. Headley.”
“Oh, I think I can handle ‘The Headley.’”
Emily shakes her head, sliding strands of silky hair farther into her hat. Her shoulders shake with laughter. “You say that now, but I wouldn’t be so sure. I hear things on MyNeighbor, you know. Interesting things. Headley’s a woman who might chew you out on Monday, h
ave you over for dinner on Tuesday and get matching tattoos with you by the weekend. And usually in some place naughty.”
“Really?” I lift an eyebrow, tilting my head towards her with interest, one hand on my cap as I pull it low. I catch her eye. “How naughty are we talking here? On a scale of ‘Hand in the cookie jar’ naughty to ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ naughty, how bad?”
‘I’ll say this: She’s a grandmother, but I heard Old Mrs. Headley could teach Mr. Grey a thing or two.”
“Well, hell. This conversation just gave the term ‘grandmama’s cookies’ a whole new meaning.”
She shakes her head with a scoff and I laugh, liking this honest side of her, my ears eager for what she’ll say next. Emily doesn’t disappoint.
“Oh, I’m sure she might love sharing her, uh, ‘cookies’ with a good-looking, card-carrying professional athlete like you.”
Her laugh comes from the heart—musical and soft. But it hits me everywhere on my body below the waist. With the soft smell of stadium peanuts and fresh-cut field grass on her skin, a tinge of red from the harried day still on her cheeks, she looks adorable underneath that dark Cougars cap and curtain of silky hair.
Innocent and absolutely fucking delectable.
I’ve had one goal for the last two weeks, and that’s how to get my mind back to baseball and out of this blackmail mess. But with the introduction of these two new crazy women in my life—one still a girl, the other anything but, I can’t seem to get myself back on track.
And I’m no longer sure I want to.
I want to tell Emily exactly that. A part of me is damn dying to.
But my cell phone suddenly rings, cutting me off. And I reach for it immediately, answering the second I see Naomi’s name on the screen.
I wet my lips. “Nome? What’s going on?”
“I’ve got good news and bad news, Sev. Which do you want first?”
I grunt. “Do you have to ask?”
“Okay, bad news: I just ran into Sawyer with a harem of women coming into the hotel lobby, and yes, he’s still an asshole, so my condolences for being connected to such a prick.”
