Room 4 Rent: A Steamy Romantic Comedy

by Shey Stahl

  “Then you haven’t drank enough. Have more.”

  Sighing, I shake my head. “What are you doing?”

  His mouth moves to my ear, his words whispered in a low growl. “I’m trying to make you forget about him.”

  “You did that when you bought me coffee that morning.”

  My stomach does a flip as I think about moving forward. I turn to face him, watching the way the candlelight flickers against his face. He looks so beautiful, and I can’t imagine what I look like to him.

  Bringing my legs up near my chest, I sit between his legs in front of him. “I feel like such a fucking mess.”

  His shoulders stiffen, and he lifts my chin and catches my stare. His gaze sharpens, his jaw stiff. “You’re not though. You’re an amazing mom and artist. Never underestimate your appeal, and what simply being a mother to Tatum gives her.”

  I hate the hurt in his eyes, and I want to smack his own mother. I don’t know much about her, as he’s stingy with the details, but I know she wasn’t good to him. I lift the wine to my lips, and his hand falls to the side of the tub. “I think someone made you in a factory and sent you to me.”

  He leans closer, his breath hitting my face. “Or maybe they sent both of you to me.”

  His lips find my knees, the corners of his eyes creasing as a smile forms. “Is now a good time to tell you I hate the smell of lilacs?”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “You really are a monster.”

  His eyes flick to mine. “Monsters don’t set up Christmas trees in April and get a kid a kitten.”

  “You’re right.” I shake my head and think about the Christmas tree in the house. “How did this night go down?” I shift in the tub so I can see his face clearer. “Where did you even find the Christmas tree?”

  “It was in your attic.” He wraps his arms around me, his hand disappearing into my hair. “Tatum showed me. Also, she peed in a shoebox in the attic. And the kitten, well, he sorta showed up at the door.”

  I run my fingers down his back, feeling the smooth, taut skin. “He did not.”

  His eyes find mine, suddenly serious. “Yeah, he did.”

  “Our door?”

  “No, my car. I took her for ice cream, and she kept going on about a talking snowman, and the kitten was there when I opened the door.” At first I think he’s serious, and then he bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding. We got him from the shelter.”

  “I’m sure she’s going to love him.”

  “Do you not want him?” he asks against my lips, and by the trepidation in his eyes, I wonder if he’s talking about himself and not the snow-white kitten meowing at my bathroom door.

  Pulling back, he tucks my hair behind my ear and waits for my answer.

  “I think he’s perfect for us,” I say, unable to stop smiling for once tonight. “And what do you mean she peed in a shoebox?”

  He scratches the side of his jaw. “I thought you were gonna let that one go.”

  “Did you clean it up? I’m so sorry. Potty training hasn’t been going well.”

  “I threw the box away and got her changed.” He shrugs and leans back against the tub again. “I loved hanging out with her. Even got her to pee on the toilet once.”

  “How?”

  “Bribed her with jelly beans.”

  “Clever. Thank you for taking care of her.” I touch my hand gently to his bruised cheek, and he blinks slowly, watching me. “Does your face hurt?”

  His lashes lower. “A little, but not bad. I’ve had worse.”

  You can see the small strip of white tape across the bridge of his nose. “Did it break your nose too, or just cut it?”

  “Cracked the bridge.” He runs his fingers over the tape. “Not bad though. Didn’t displace it. I’ll still have my charming good looks.” He winks, his eyes dropping to my bare tits he can’t keep his hands off.

  “How long are you out for?”

  “Few games.” He shrugs, a smirk forming. “Were you worried about me?”

  “More than I want to admit.”

  He draws in a breath as if he’s preparing himself for what he never saw coming and takes my face in his hands. “Come to dinner with me. Tomorrow night.” I start to say no, because this isn’t what he needs. But he puts his thumb to my lips. “I’m begging you, and I don’t beg. But you, you make me so fucking weak.”

  “Why me, Cason?” I ask, his thumb sliding from my lips and to my chin where he angles my face up to meet his. “You’re young, incredibly talented, have a career ahead of you… what do you want with a widowed mom?”

  Leaning forward, he presses his lips to mine once more. “You’re underestimating yourself. Again.”

  “Cason—”

  “Stop saying my name like that,” he snaps, a sudden edge to his tone I haven’t heard before. “Stop trying to convince me I’m not what you need. You and I both know I am and the more you push me away, the more I want you. So stop. It’s not doing either one of us any good.”

  My heart does those flips again. Pissed off Cason is even hotter with this adorable side.

  “I don’t know where I’ll be in six months,” he adds, his voice softer. “Or what this will be, but I don’t want to waste any time. It’s just dinner.”

  It’s so much more than dinner, and he knows it, but I agree regardless. “Okay. One date.”

  Refers to the positioning and or movement of the catcher’s mitt and body when he catches a pitch in the attempt to make the pitch appear as a strike to the umpire. Typically done on pitches that are slightly outside the strike zone and may be questionable for the umpire to call a strike.

  CASON

  “There’s only two reasons to be dating a single mom,” Noah says with a grunt when I enter the dugout after two walks and a guy homering off my fastball.

  It’s been a rough night on the mound, and Noah isn’t helping.

  “Yeah, what’s that?” Ez laughs at Les, and I fight the urge to rearrange his teeth.

  “They’re too busy with their kids to be up your ass. And they have the best snacks.”

  I hang my head, shaking it back and forth. “Shut your fucking mouth before I shove your bat up your ass,” I growl, having enough of his bullshit for one day.

  Ever since I moved in with Sydney, or the guest house I sneak into in the early morning hours so Tatum doesn’t see me in bed with her mom, the guys on the team have been giving me shit.

  Ez and his big fucking mouth told them I was taking her on a date tonight, and they’ve only amped their antics. But they picked the wrong night for it. My first game back since the line drive to my face.

  In the next inning, my headspace takes a dive. I can’t even place what’s wrong either, but I can’t block anything out. I think about Sydney, Tatum, the draft, my fucking mom calling me —it’s all compressing, driving me further and further into a slump. I know why she’s calling. Because the draft is getting closer, and she only wants one thing. Status.

  Well, fuck her and her stupid reasons.

  I throw a pitch at the backstop. A walk.

  Another wild pitch follows.

  Another.

  Ez walks to the mound, ball in hand. “What’s going on?”

  I shrug, not sure if I can offer him anything.

  “It’s just catch, man.” He hands me the ball. “Take the batter away. Take him out of the equation and throw to me.” His eyes narrow in on me. “Give me the heat.”

  I exhale, trying to compose myself. It’s just catch. Nothing else.

  I look at my hand and the ball it’s holding.

  Strike. That’s all I need. Throw a fucking strike, man!

  Running my forearm over my forehead, I look to Chiasson, his eyes masked by his dark sunglasses. I’m thankful I can’t see the disappointment on his face.

  Ball in hand, I roll it around in my palm, staring at it. Throw a strike. I can do it. I know how. I’ve done it countless other times before. So what’s going on now?

  Thirty-three pitche
s. Two hits. Two runs. Four walks. Five wild pitches and I’m relieved from the mound and left with the same emptiness I can’t explain.

  Baseball, for me, has always drawn me out of my own head. From fears, my insecurities, my anger. And the only person who could ever draw me out of that?

  My dad.

  After the game, he’s the first to call me. I sit in my car before I meet Sydney, and talk to him.

  “You okay, buddy?”

  “I don’t know. I really fucked that game up.” I sigh into the phone. “Mom called me before the game.”

  There’s a silence, or maybe an understanding, because even though they’ve been divorced longer than they were married, part of him still loves her and hates her at the same time. “Same shit as usual?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I let it go to voicemail. Didn’t bother to listen to it yet.”

  Ez smacks the window to my car. I point to my phone and he leaves. That’s when my dad sighs again. “I’d love to say she means well, but we both know that’s not true.”

  “I know.” I run my fingers over the stitching in my steering wheel. I stare at my hands and wonder why they couldn’t let go of the ball tonight.

  “It’s just a game, Case. You gotta remember that. Fuck, kid, I know me saying it and you understanding isn’t easy. Some nights you’re off. No matter what you do. Even the greatest have bad days.”

  He’s right. They do. Even he does. In a twenty-year career in the majors and five teams, he’s had years where he didn’t perform as well as he could. But still, he stuck with it because he knew what the game offered him.

  Everything he’d ever wanted.

  “I can’t perform like tonight and get drafted,” I admit, worried my chance at the majors is slipping away.

  He laughs, low and deep. “Case, remember you’re exceptional. I’m not trying to boost your ego, because you certainly don’t need that. You broke the record in the majors while in college. Clubs know we’re human. And nights like tonight happen.”

  I know what he means, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  He talks about coming to see me after the Mariners play the Angels, and I look forward to it. I haven’t seen him since Christmas when I flew out to Vail, Colorado to spend it with my dad’s side of the family.

  And then he asks where I’m living. He knows I got kicked out of the dorms.

  “Uh, well, I’m renting a room from someone.”

  “A single mom with a kid?” he hedges, amusement in his words.

  Fucking Ez and his big mouth. I knew he told him by the entertained pitch of my dad’s tone. Ez thinks he’s best friends with my dad since he took us out for beers last year. And tells him everything about my life before I do.

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “I’m… taking her to dinner tonight.”

  He’s silent for a moment and then clears his throat. “Do you trust her?”

  I think about it for a split second. “I have no reason not to.” I drop my hand from the steering wheel and lay my head back against the headrest. “She’s been through a lot, and I’m not trying to start something when I don’t even know where my life is going, but I can’t get her out of my head. She’s… intoxicating to be around.”

  He waits for a beat but then asks exactly what I expect him to. “Is that why you struggled tonight? Because of her?”

  “No,” I’m quick to say. Because it’s not Sydney. It’s the unknown. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I guess it scares me. Did you feel that way before the draft?”

  “I was drafted right out of high school, and it took me five years before I made my first major appearance. I didn’t really have time to think before that, but I do remember being nineteen with a kid on the way and still working my way through the minors.”

  “I…” Groaning, I try to draw in a breath, but it feels heavier than normal. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He seems to chew on the advice he wants to give me before he breathes in deep. “Case, if you want her in your life, then it’ll work out. But don’t give up what you’ve worked your entire life toward, and don’t ask her to give hers up for you. You can have both. It’s not one or the other.”

  I smile. “Any other advice?”

  “Not really.” He laughs. “Just that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “See ya next month?”

  “Sounds good.” Reaching forward, I start my car, knowing if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late for my date with Sydney. She’s usually fifteen minutes late to everything, but still, I don’t want to keep her waiting.

  After sending Ez a text and telling him to stop gossiping, I think about what my dad said long after I’ve hung up with him. I think about when I see Sydney, waiting at the restaurant for me, in the most amazing dress I’ve ever seen and smiling at me like I’m her favorite person in the world. I know then what I want. I want her in my life as much as I want Tatum in it.

  I don’t care if I have to wait six months or six years. I’ll do that for them.

  A ball that bounces in front of a fielder in an unexpected way, often as a result of imperfections in the field or the spin on the ball.

  SYDNEY

  “I know you bought the entire Wildness collection off my website,” I admit, watching Cason cut his steak. Between the way he handles a knife and the fading bruises under his eyes, I’ve contemplated dropping to my knees under the table and sucking him off.

  I love a man with battle wounds.

  Ignoring my remark about the paintings, he shrugs.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I was in love once,” he says, chewing his steak slowly, unwilling to answer my statement. Or maybe he’s leading into something here.

  I wait and listen.

  If you haven’t picked up on it yet, this is the dinner I promised him a week ago. We’re at a fancy restaurant in downtown Scottsdale on a date. I said I wouldn’t call it a date, and he did too, but I’m going to throw the word out there because I can. And it feels right.

  I won’t bore you with the details of the restaurant or that I’m wearing a dress, and he looks fucking amazing in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. What I will tell you is that for the first time in months, I don’t have that constant lump in my throat that another curveball is going to be thrown my way. I’m relaxed and content.

  “With baseball?” I tease, shocked he said he was in love once. I wouldn’t have expected that with him, given his upbringing. Hell, I’m surprised he doesn’t have extreme trust issues.

  He sets his fork down and reaches for his beer. Bringing it to his lips, he sighs. “Funny. But no. With a girl named Brie.”

  I pick at the piece of bread in my hand like I’m a chipmunk, eagerly awaiting the details of every single past relationship this guy has had. I want to know everything. Who’d he lose his virginity to? How many girls has he slept with? Give. Me. The. Details. I start with, “What happened?”

  “She fucked my best friend,” he says, flat out, gauging my reaction.

  “Whoa” is all I can say. At least Remi wasn’t my best friend, though she’s trying to be.

  “Yep.”

  I blink rapidly, hating that this bitchy Brie broke his heart. I want to track her down and slap her. “What did you do?”

  “Broke up with her.”

  “How long were you guys together?”

  He blows out a quick breath, then tilts his head as if he has to think about it for a minute. “Three years.”

  “That’s a long time for a college baseball player.”

  “You’re surprised?”

  “Seeing how your mom was the way she was, yeah, I am a little. I don’t mean that in a bad way either. I mean… actually, I don’t know what I mean by it.” I shouldn’t have said that. Damn it. Maybe I should stop drinking this wine. It’s making me say stupid shit.

  He nods. “I think I am the way I am because of her. I gave Brie my heart, sh
e crushed it to left field, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it happen again.”

  I’m not sure what he means by that, but I’m equally as afraid to ask for clarification. I set the bread down. “Do you have plans after graduation?”

  His facial expression shifts, a mask of uncertainty taking over. “The draft and then from there, I don’t know. Whoever wants me.”

  My heart beats so fast I’m afraid the rhythm is going to break, and I’m going to blurt out the words: I want you! Just because I said I didn’t want to date him doesn’t mean that I’m not attached to this guy. Because I totally am. I flew right past the like stage and fell hard, but I can’t tell him that because he doesn’t need that kind of pressure on him. He has enough. “Your dad’s retiring this year. Have the Mariners expressed interest?”

  He stares at his beer on the table and then lifts his eyes to mine. “They did, but they already have Thomson and Beckett in their bullpen, and both are pitching great this year. I don’t know. My agent, Rob, he’s been talking to the Angels since last season, and I think it’s going to be them.”

  “Anaheim. That’s not terrible.”

  The first grin of the night surfaces, and I’m not disappointed. “Only five and a half hours away.”

  “That’s good. Tatum will miss her jelly-bean connoisseur.”

  He leans in, his eyes intent on mine. “Will you though?”

  Shit, there’s that lump again. Damn you. “What are we doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This. Us. What is this? You wanted a place to live, then sex, now a date…. What’s next?”

  Reaching across the table, he takes my hand and squeezes it. “It was never about the sex or the room for rent.”

  You know what I think?

  Cason and me, our existence in each other’s lives came at a time when we debated our own. A gleam of hope that not everyone in this world has reason or motive to fuck you over. In those days following Collin’s death, before the catastrophe of events that followed, I had anger and hurt deeply. My heart ached for my family, my child, and the future we no longer had.

  I have no idea where my life is heading, but I’ve never felt so certain that it has purpose.