"That's why you work as a wish granter."
"I was too young then to help her before she passed. But I can help other kids and make sure they get their wishes."
"You're amazing." Slade slid his arm around her and drew her against his side.
"No. I'm not." She leaned into him, absorbing his strength, and more than ready to turn the topic of conversation back to him. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"Well..." His other hand moved restlessly up and down her forearm. "I just found my half-sister. Met her for the first time last night."
"Wow." She couldn't imagine Slade never having met his own sister.
"Yeah." He sighed and returned to pouring the alcohol. "I was adopted as a baby. My adoptive mom died when I was six, and then I went to live with her aunt who was in her fifties and didn't want to raise a kid at that point, so she was pretty hands-off. Didn't care what I did as long as it didn't cause problems for her."
"I'm sorry." She longed to reach out to him but couldn't tell if a touch would be welcomed. Finally, the questions she'd been too hesitant to ask were being answered.
He turned the glass around and around, studying the contents. "Even back then, I loved baseball. All that time alone left me with plenty of hours to study the game and work on my swing."
"Still, she must be proud of your accomplishments. Does she ever come to your games?"
"She passed away when I was in my first season of minor league ball. I wouldn't say she was proud. My mom had left a lot of money, so as long as her aunt took care of me, she received a monthly allowance. I'd grown up living in her house, but didn't feel like I was actually living with her, if that makes sense."
"I'm so sorry." How awful. Her heart ached for the lonely little boy and the man who still carried around the scars.
"I survived."
Surviving wasn't the same thing as growing up in a house filled with love. As smothering as her parents had been with their rules after Molly had died, they'd been equally as giving with their time and attention.
He downed the scotch and then pulled himself another glass. "I did one of those genetic swab tests. Found my half-sister, which led to my birth parents. I haven't met them yet."
"I'm sure they're going to love you."
His lips pinched together and for a moment, his eyes filled with a lost hopelessness that pushed her to move. She curled her fingers around his, willing reassurance and comfort to flow into him. He blinked and stared at her untouched glass like he was seeing it for the first time. "You're not drinking. You don't like scotch, do you? I'm sorry."
Touching his hand wasn't enough. His kiss had distracted her in the hot air balloon. Returning the favor would be her pleasure. She slid her hand to the back of his neck and gently guided his head until his lips reached hers. They were soft and open, receptive and responsive. Savanna slanted her head and deepened the kiss, teasing her tongue along his lower lip until he spun her with a groan and pressed her back against the bar.
His hands clamped and flexed on her waist and his tongue played with hers in slow licks and lazy caresses. She clung to his shoulders, then ran her hands down his biceps and up over his neck. Muscles tensed and shifted under her hands as she pulled him closer.
The front door banged open and then closed. "Slade?"
At Liam's call, Slade eased back. "In here, Li."
Savanna brushed at her hair and took a sip of the scotch. She coughed as it burned into her throat. Chuckling, Slade pulled the glass from her hand. "You don't have to drink it. I don't have champagne here but we can get some with dinner when we place our order."
The thump of crutches on hardwood got closer and louder. "Dinner?" Faster than she would have thought, Liam stood in the doorway. "What are we having? I vote for pizza. Savanna, they do a really good job of it downstairs."
"Pizza and champagne sounds great." She shook off her disappointment that a dinner for two had turned into a dinner for three. A chance to witness—to study—the dynamics of Slade and Liam's friendship might help her better understand him. Strong and braver-than-hell Slade had been a turn on and made her feel safe. But his vulnerable side, and her feeling that he didn’t show it to many people, that side brought out her protective instincts.
Maybe their arrangement didn't have to be so one-sided. Maybe she could find a way to grant his innermost wish, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLAIRE
THREE HOURS BEFORE game time, Claire pulled her car into the driveway of her family home. The sprawling house looked the same as it always did, but ever since she'd moved out, returning home felt different. She couldn't put her finger on why. Maybe because it wasn't officially home anymore. Or maybe because she still felt guilt over the need to lay claim to her own space, and to be in a place where she didn't have to cater to anyone's demands or schedules but her own.
Not that she'd fully escaped those old demands. But things were a lot calmer now. Two months into having her own apartment and almost one month into having the best job ever had a lot to do with that.
She let herself inside and sorted through the mail littering the small table by the door. Silence greeted her. She wasn't sure who she'd find home on a Saturday afternoon. "Anyone home?"
Lauren bolted down the stairs, long hair flying behind her like a cape, and grabbed Claire in a tight hug. "You're here."
Claire's breath rushed out of her lungs and she extracted herself from her youngest sister's squeeze. "I just saw you last week."
"Yeah, but you driving me to gymnastics isn't the same as you living here."
True. "I just stopped by to check the mail. The post office said rerouting my mail could take a while."
Lauren pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not staying for dinner?"
"I can't. I have to go to work." She picked up the junk mail and headed down the hall and through the living room.
"Do you still like your new job? Have you met all the players yet? Are they nice? Some of them are really cute." Lauren's rapid-fire questions followed Claire into the kitchen.
The very messy kitchen. Claire stopped in the middle of the room. "What the heck happened in here?"
Lauren glanced around the space. "What?"
"The overflowing dishes in the sink. The used pans on top of the oven. The crumbs all over the counter. The sections of newspaper strewn all over the floor."
"Oh." Lauren shrugged. "I guess I didn't notice."
More likely, Claire hadn't been there to nag and remind people to keep things clean. "Where are Krissy and Ginger?"
"Laying out by the pool. Hey, since you're here, can you make your famous lasagna?"
Claire shook her head and stepped over Lauren's backpack and pile of notebooks. She tossed the junk mail into the recycle bin and glanced into the yard. Her twin sisters were draped over lounge chairs, laughing with their phones in hand. "What about Amanda and Jen?"
"They're both at work and should be home by five. Please stay and have dinner with us. We haven't all spent time together in forever." Lauren's wide eyes rivaled a puppy dog's pleading stare. Her just-turned fifteen-year-old sister was very much the baby of the family and Claire had a hard time telling her no.
She opened the dishwasher, intending to load some of the contents of the overburdened sink, but it was jammed full of dirty dishes. Seriously? How did her sisters not notice? "Dad's at work?"
"Yep. But I saw him at breakfast. He said there were a lot of surgeries today." Lauren shrugged and picked up a glass of water from the table. "I know I've always said I wanted to be an anesthesiologist like Dad, but I don't think so now. He works a lot."
"Mmm hmm." Claire glanced at his work schedule listed on the calendar that held her sisters' appointments, sports, schedules, and activities. The hours he put in at the hospital had been the source of some horrible fights between their parents. Claire had just turned eleven when her mother had walked out of their lives. She remembered the harsh words and accusations and the feel
ing of being a burden. After Mom had left, she'd promised herself that her younger sisters wouldn't ever feel that way. She'd take care of everyone.
Krissy and Ginger came through the French doors that led to the yard. "Hi," they said in unison.
Lauren thrust a worn recipe book in Claire's direction, with the page already opened to the Italian dish. "The lasagna doesn't taste the same if you don't make it."
Krissy's brows rose. "You're making your lasagna? That's my favorite."
"Mine, too." Ginger, her carbon copy in looks and attitude, chimed in. They often joked that the seventeen-year-old twins shared the same brain. Especially when they moved and spoke in sync. Twin magic, Dad had called it, and the term had stuck.
"Guys, I really don't have time." She spied the piles of clothes in front of the washing machine in the adjoining laundry room. "What's going on? Are you all on strike? This place is a mess."
The twins shrugged, then Krissy pointed toward the laundry. "Amanda was going to do that tomorrow."
"Okay, but what about the dishes?"
"It's Jen's week for dish duty. When you moved out, we changed up the chores, but I guess it's not working out so well."
"You think?" Claire took one look at the chore schedule she'd kept on the fridge. Apparently, they'd abandoned her system as soon as she'd left. The clock hanging over the sink showed that she could spare a little time. Enough to throw the lasagna together, anyway. "Okay, here's the deal. If you want me to make the lasagna, then two of you can get started on washing and drying the dishes, plus run the dishwasher. And the other one can help me straighten up in here and cook."
Lauren bounced on her toes. "Yay. I'm glad you're staying. I'll help you. The twins can do the dishes."
"Do me a favor and start a load of laundry too." She checked the contents of the fridge. "I'm glad someone remembered to at least buy groceries."
"We ordered from the store's website and they delivered. The only thing we had to do was put everything away." Krissy squirted soap over the dishes. "It was super easy."
Ginger wrinkled her nose at the sauce crusted on a large pot. "Maybe we should order a housekeeper again too."
Claire preheated the oven, then grabbed the only clean baking dish left in the cabinet. They hadn't had a housekeeper in years. "Considering the state of the house, I'm sure Dad would agree."
Lauren and the twins kept up a rambling conversation as Claire layered the lasagna. While it baked, she helped Lauren search for her missing "lucky" leotard she insisted she needed for an upcoming gymnastics meet.
When her other sisters came home at five o'clock, Claire gasped at how much time had passed and bolted out the door. She was due at the ballpark in twenty minutes and the drive would likely take her more than thirty.
Thanks to traffic, forty minutes passed before she entered the stadium's employee parking lot. She grabbed her purse, pulled out her badge, and jogged toward the entrance. She couldn't afford to be late yet. Maybe no one had noticed.
Yeah right.
She flashed her badge at the security guard and increased her pace. Rushing to the third-floor office, she bypassed the elevator and ran up the stairs. The team wanted the mascots to be visible to the fans on the concourse prior to the game. People would see that she wasn't there with Liam. Even if the fans didn't notice, the staff would. Raymond had been pleased with her performance so far. She couldn't let that change.
Her purse caught the edge of a maintenance cart and yanked her back. She stumbled into the wall, cursing as her shoulder met concrete.
"Claire?" Liam, dressed as Fin, slowed to a stop on his golf cart. "I tried calling your phone. Are you okay?"
Rubbing her shoulder, she pushed away from the wall. "Sorry I'm late. I'll be dressed in under a minute."
She slid past him, jogged the remaining steps to the office, and dropped her purse on the floor. Her damn shoulder throbbed. Hopefully, it wouldn't hold back her performance. No one could see her wince in pain anyway during the game. The costume made sure of that.
The golf cart stopped in front of the door. Liam hopped off, grabbed his crutches, and lumbered into the room. The door closed at his back. "Are you getting in a pre-game workout by jogging around the floors?"
Laughter huffed out at the thought. "Right. That's it."
She tugged on the costume, tripping as her sneaker caught on the material. And then the zipper got stuck on the fabric. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."
"Hey, relax. We're good."
"No, we're not good. We're due out on the concourse."
"If you need more time, Fin can always pretend he locked Fiona in a closet so he could have fun on the field."
"Raymond's not going to buy that if he's out there." She sat on the couch and worked the material free of the zipper's teeth.
He came closer and laid his hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't throw you under the bus. I'd tell Ray that you were stuck in a traffic backup caused by an accident or road construction."
Her previous sales job had been cut-throat, with co-workers stealing customers and an everyone-out-for-themselves environment. She had never expected that Liam would back her up here. "Well, thanks. I appreciate it."
"Just curious, but why were you late?"
"Lasagna and a missing gym leotard."
She caught his grin through the mesh of Fin's mouth. "Yeah, I hate it when that happens."
They both laughed and he nodded toward the TV. "Today's episode of Fin and Fiona is The First Kiss. We can tune in right here during the fourth inning."
"With everything that's gone on today, I'd forgotten. I'm glad Raymond was right about the fans loving the Fin and Fiona storyline." Resisting Liam had been harder than she'd thought. Just one look into those laughing brown eyes and she'd melt. He made her wish for things that she shouldn't. She stood and slid the zipper closed.
He moved backward, but his crutch landed on her purse and fell away from his grip. His body pitched to the side and he flung out his arm and casted ankle. Claire sprang forward. She couldn't have him land on either of those. Yanking the front of his costume, she twisted toward the couch. His weight and momentum took them both down and they landed in a heap of tangled limbs.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Buried beneath him, she panted the apology. She never left her purse on the floor. "Did you bang your ankle?"
"A little." He pushed up on his arms but she couldn't see his eyes through the dark mesh of the costume. "Can you pull off my mask?"
"Sure." Berating herself, she slipped it off his head. His eyes kindled with that familiar spark and his dark hair was tousled in a sexy mess. She could picture him looking this exact way after a night spent together. Dragging her thoughts from going in that direction, she smoothed the strands, desperate to fix something after the near-disaster she'd caused.
His breath stilled when her hand tangled in his hair. And she realized she probably shouldn't be touching him like this. She lifted her hand, but he shook his head. "Don't stop. I like it."
Her blood beating a steady thrum, she returned her hand to his hair. His gaze roamed her face and then settled on her mouth. He shifted his body and tugged his hand free of their tangle. When his finger trailed from her temple to her chin, her eyes fluttered closed. The touch was like thousands of points of electricity pulsing against her skin.
She opened her eyes. Liam's gaze held hers captive and he traced his finger over the shape of her lips. "Fighting this hasn't worked. If anything, it's made me want you more."
The words spoken in the roughened tone were both arousing and gratifying. She hadn't been the only one who'd suffered. "So maybe we should stop fighting it."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. He moved his hand to her throat and stroked her skin with a feather light caress. Claire left one hand buried in his hair and slid the other to his neck, massaging the muscles.
Liam groaned and lowered his head and his mouth crashed down on hers faster and hotter than she'd expected. His lips coaxed
hers apart and she let his tongue slide inside to dual with hers. He kissed a trail to her jawline then down her neck in a series of nips and licks that weakened her muscles and heated her blood. Tugging his hair, she nudged him until he returned to her mouth. His urgency matched hers and his body blanketed her, wrapping them in their desire.
A knock pounded on the door. Claire jolted and knocked her forehead into Liam's. "Damn it."
He pulled away, rubbing his forehead, and rolled to the floor. "Just a second," he called out as he reached for his crutches.
Claire sprung to her feet. She adjusted her costume, slipped her mask in place, and helped Liam put his on.
When she opened the door, Tim, one of the security guards, stood with his hand on his radio. "You guys all right? Our guest singer for the National Anthem was late, but she's ready to go now. You need to get on the field."
They were much later than she'd thought. Claire groaned and glanced at Liam. "Sorry. I had some costume trouble."
"I'll have them hold the elevator for you." Tim stepped away, speaking into his radio.
Liam locked the door and climbed into the golf cart. He rubbed Fin's fins together. "Time to burn some rubber."
She started the engine and sped down the hall. Her attraction to Liam couldn't get in the way of doing her job. "Listen, about what happened..."
"It was a good first kiss, starting with the crash and ending with a bang." He raised his hand to his head.
Laughing, she glided the cart onto the empty elevator. "Seriously. We can't let it affect things here."
He laid his hand on her thigh. "Believe me, I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this job. On the clock, we'll make sure to keep a better watch on the time. But off the clock, all bets are off."
A shiver tore through her. Anticipation rolled together with wariness. Losing focus of her responsibilities wasn’t an option. And Liam proved to be the biggest distraction she’d ever had.
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