Alone again, we sipped our bourbon and continued catching up, although I did most of the talking. Tyler asked about my parents and sisters, some friends from high school, my job, the changes at Cloverleigh Farms, and whether I liked working with my family.
“Honestly, I do,” I told him. “It can be a lot of togetherness, and we’re up in each other’s business all the time, but I’ve always been close to my family. I really missed them when I lived in New York, and I was glad when my parents broached the subject of moving back and building up Cloverleigh Farms as a wedding venue.”
“I’ve heard you’re awesome at what you do.”
I smiled into my glass before taking the last sip. “Thanks. Sadie is such a doll.”
“She really appreciates you working so hard and so fast for her.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I said, setting my empty glass down. Tyler’s had been empty for a few minutes already. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. She’s an easy bride to work with, and it makes me happy to see her so excited. Seems like yesterday she was a little kid in pigtails needing a Band-Aid for a scraped knee, or help with her spelling words, or a quarter for the gumball machine.”
“You were so good to her.”
“Well, it was my job.”
“You never treated her like she was a job.”
My cheeks warmed, and I shrugged. “Being a big sister came easy to me. Plus, I loved hanging out with her. And with you too, of course.” It came out a little flirtier than I’d meant it to. Was it the bourbon? Was it how good he smelled? Or was it how close he was sitting, the way he was looking at me like I was the only person in the room, possibly the world?
Something was definitely making me a little lightheaded.
Tyler gave me his old grin. “We had some good times, didn’t we? That is, when you weren’t giving me shit about my massive ego.”
“The only thing bigger than your biceps,” I quipped, poking his upper arm.
“Now you know that’s not true.”
Our eyes met, and my heart hiccupped. I crossed my legs—tight.
“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.” But that cocky smile stayed put on his lips, telling me he wasn’t really sorry.
All at once, I remembered how easily I’d fallen into his arms eighteen years ago—and I knew instinctively how easily it could happen again if I wasn’t careful.
Tyler Shaw just did something to me.
Seven
Tyler
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I wasn’t sorry.
I’d always loved teasing April. And something about being around her had me feeling like my old self again.
Her expressions were the same, her voice was the same, and those dimples just made me happy to look at them. I could still make her laugh, and when she made her usual crack about my biceps, it was like no time had gone by at all, like everything was right in the world. It was giving me an even better buzz than the bourbon.
The food arrived, and Jacie asked us if we’d like another round.
“I’ll do one more,” I said.
April hesitated, then laughed. “I would, but I’m not sure I should. I’m already a little tipsy.”
“Oh, come on,” I prodded. “I can drive you home.”
She leveled her gaze at me. “I’ve heard that one before.”
Happy that she’d been the one to make a joke about it this time, I held up my hands. “No detours, I promise.”
She sighed and shrugged. “Okay. Why not? Another Brown Eyed Girl bourbon on the rocks. Lots of rocks.”
Jacie smiled. “You got it. Be right back.”
“Here, try some of this. It’s really good.” April leaned toward me and put some salad on my plate.
That was when I accidentally looked down her blouse—okay, it wasn’t exactly an accident—and the glimpse of her black lace bra made the crotch of my pants get a little tight. But then I noticed the pendant she wore around her neck—a small gold four-leaf clover.
“Hey, I like your necklace,” I said, reaching for it without even thinking. My fingers brushed her collarbone. “It reminds me of when Sadie used to give me a shamrock for luck before a game.”
Her dimples appeared, and she stayed still while I examined the little gold charm. “Oh, I remember that,” she said. “So sweet.”
I let it go and leaned back. “She used to get so mad when I’d tell her they weren’t four-leaf clovers, so they weren’t lucky.”
“But they made you feel good, didn’t they?”
I nodded. “Every time.”
“That’s what mattered to her. She worshipped you.”
“Who didn’t?”
That earned me a dirty look and poke on the shoulder, just like we were seventeen again and back at my dad’s old kitchen table. I never wanted this feeling to end.
While we ate, I asked her about her time in New York and whether she ever missed living in a big city.
“You know, it was fun, but I don’t really miss living in a big city,” she said, spreading some burrata on a small piece of bread. “I liked it when I was there—the chaos, the energy—but that was my twenties. I don’t have that in me anymore—the late nights and early mornings would kill me. And I didn’t love the corporate culture. I much prefer where I am now.”
“So you’ll stay in this area, you think?”
She sighed. “I suppose that depends on what the future holds. I do like it here. It’s home to me. What about you? Ever think about moving back?”
Our drinks arrived, and I took a hefty swallow before answering. “Nah. This isn’t home anymore.”
“You think of California as home now?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure any place feels like home to me.”
“Why not?”
That was a hard question to answer, so I turned it back on her. “What makes this place feel like home to you?”
She took a bite of her bread and thought for a second. “I guess it’s the sense that, somehow, I know I belong here. I have history here. I miss it when I’m gone, and I’m always happy to come back. I just . . . feel most like myself here.”
“I used to feel that way on the field.” After another sip, I set the glass down. “But I don’t feel that anywhere anymore. Not since I quit playing. And I miss it,” I confessed, which surprised me, because it wasn’t something I ever said out loud. “I really fucking miss it.”
“I’m sorry.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it? Baseball, I mean? Or what happened?”
“No. It’s fine. I mean, obviously, it’s not fine, but if talking about it helped, I’d be on the mound in St. Louis right now.”
“Well,” she said, offering me a tiny smile, “I might be the only one, but I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. It’s really good to see you.”
I smiled back. “It’s good to see you too.”
“And it’s nice to get out,” she went on. “Most nights I’m either working late at events or just grabbing something quick and eating dinner at home by myself.”
Looking at her and having spent the last couple hours enjoying her company, it was hard to believe she was single if she didn’t want to be. Not only was she beautiful, but she was sweet and funny and smart—so what was the story? What was wrong with the jackasses around here that they weren’t lining up to be with her?
“Earlier, you said something about living alone,” I ventured. “That it doesn’t suit you. What made you say that?”
She sighed and popped an olive in her mouth. “I’d like to meet someone. Get married, have a family.”
I nodded slowly. “You’d be good at that. Taking care of a family.”
“But you wouldn’t?”
“Nah.”
“How do you know?”
I shrugged. “I just know. I mean, I was supposed to be good at baseball—the best, in fact—and look what happened there. Turns out, I wasn’t shit.”
“Tyler, that’s not true.”
“Sure, it is,” I said, frustrated that she couldn’t see it. “Maybe once upon a time, I was good, maybe I was even close to the best, but it didn’t fucking last. Because nothing lasts. And anyone who says otherwise is a liar.” I picked up my drink and tossed back the last few sips.
April pushed some food around on her plate.
One minute ticked by. Then another.
“Say something,” I demanded, since I’d already been a jerk.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I don’t know whether I want to give you a hug or give you the finger.”
That actually made me laugh. “I vote for the finger.”
She flipped me off and picked up her bourbon. “You know, I thought Sadie might have been exaggerating about you being a grumpy old man. But I’m beginning to believe her.”
Exhaling, I rubbed my face with both hands. “Sorry for the rant. Sometimes I can’t stop myself. And I spend so much time alone, I’m not used to having it affect someone else.”
She leaned closer to me and whispered, “Maybe you wouldn’t be alone so much if you quit all the ranting.”
“I don’t mind being alone,” I said. “In fact, I prefer it.”
She sat up straight again and stuck another olive in her mouth. “You should get a kitten.”
“Hell, no.”
“A puppy?”
“Too hard to train.”
“How about a friend?”
I cocked my head. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I was,” she said, widening her eyes in mock seriousness. “But the job is turning out to be tougher than I thought.”
Laughing, I draped one arm along the top of the booth and looked at her. Was it terrible that I sort of wished she’d suggested a blowjob instead of a kitten? She was so fucking cute. “Giving up on me already, huh?”
“I didn’t say that.” She took another sip of bourbon. “But I do think you need to deal more effectively with your emotions. And I’m just drunk enough to try to help you.”
I groaned. “I think I need another drink.”
Jacie came to the table and I ordered a beer, but April said that since she wanted to leave here on her feet, not her hands and knees, she was definitely good with the half-glass of bourbon she had left. She did, however, put in an order for cherry ice cream with amaretto sauce, which she said was her favorite dessert on the menu. “I’ll share it with you,” she promised, briefly putting her hand on my thigh.
My cock jumped, and I moved a little farther away from her. The last thing I needed was an erection right now. I was determined to be a gentleman tonight.
But she wasn’t making it easy.
While she was waiting for her dessert to arrive, she touched my leg at least three more times, leaned close enough for me to accidentally look down her blouse again, and gave me several enticing whiffs of her perfume. And she must have kicked off her shoes, because she’d tucked her legs beneath her and was sitting on her bare heels—exactly the way she used to sit on the chairs at our kitchen table when we’d do homework. Then later I’d jerk off thinking about her getting up from her chair and straddling my lap.
Which was not a helpful thought at the moment.
At one point, she checked her phone and started laughing as she typed something.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“I forgot that I asked Chloe to check in on me earlier, in case I needed an escape hatch. I just looked at my phone and she’s texted and called like five times to make sure I’m okay. I’m letting her know I’m fine.”
“An escape hatch?”
“Yeah, you know . . .” She tossed her phone back into her bag. “In case you turned out to be a jerk or a pervert, I would have an excuse to leave.”
“Ah.”
“But since you’re not a jerk, I didn’t need to escape.”
I cocked a brow at her. “The jury is still out on pervert?”
She lifted her shoulders and grinned mischievously. “The night is young.”
I gulped my ice water.
When my beer and her dessert arrived, April clapped her hands like an excited kid, grabbed a spoon, and dug into the mound of pinkish ice cream with caramel-colored sauce dripping down the sides. She moaned at the first taste, her eyes closing. “Oh God, this is so good.” Then she moaned again, even louder this time.
Jesus, that sound. It was sexy as fuck.
She stuck her spoon into the ice cream again, but this time lifted it to my mouth. “You have to try this. And don’t say no.”
I set my glass down and let her feed me a bite. She was right—it was delicious. And it would be even more delicious if I could lick it off her naked body.
“Good, right?” she asked happily. She took another bite for herself, moaned again, then licked both sides of the spoon, while I suffered in agony watching her.
Christ.
Was she doing this on purpose?
I shifted on the booth seat, trying not to think about my tongue on her skin while surreptitiously adjusting the giant bulge in my pants. Thankfully, she was either too buzzed or too obsessed with her ice cream to notice.
“The cherries in this are from our farm,” she announced.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Want another bite?” Then she started to laugh. “I know how much you like local cherries.”
Tipping back my beer, I narrowed my eyes at her, then set the bottle down with a thunk. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “You liked mine, didn’t you?”
“What?”
April laughed even harder and sucked on the spoon.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” I sat up straight and blinked at her. “Are you serious? You were a virgin that night?”
“Hush,” she said, looking around, although we were practically the only people left in the dining room. “Yes. I was pure as the driven snow before you got me in the back of your truck.”
I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t want you to know, obviously.”
“God, now I feel like an even bigger prick.”
“Tyler, I can’t be the only rookie you initiated.”
“You were different.”
That made her smile. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have done it?”
I thought for a second. “Nah, I probably still would have done it. But I might have tried to make it last a little longer.”
She dug into the ice cream again. “It was pretty quick.”
I groaned again.
“But you were a gentleman, as far as I was concerned. And it’s not like I knew any better back then.” She started laughing. “I mean, after all, your nickname was ‘The Rifle.’”
“Because I pitched fast, dammit!”
“Oh, come on, that’s funny. Admit it.” She leaned over and nudged me with her shoulder. “And I was glad you were my first, despite everything.”
I ran a hand through my hair, sat up a little taller. “Good. But I just want it on the record”—I held out one hand—“I have learned some self-control in the ensuing years. And some skills. Some very valuable skills.”
“Duly noted,” April said with a nod. “Now let’s talk about your feelings.”
I frowned and picked up my beer. “Do we have to?”
“Yes. You’re very angry.”
“Don’t I have a right to be? You saw it tonight. I feel like I can’t turn a corner without someone telling me how great I was, what a shame it is that my career ended the way it did, or wondering why, for the love of God, I just couldn’t relax and throw the ball.”
“So tell them to fuck off.”
“I do. All the time.”
“But then you have to actually let it go.”
I exhaled. “That’s a lot harder. Because deep down, I’m asking myself the same damn thing.”
“Ok
ay, so what’s next? Look ahead. If you can’t play ball anymore, what are you going to do to show everyone that you’re still a badass?”
Um, put my tongue between your legs? But I didn’t say that. What I said was, “I’ve got no idea.”
“Hmm. You need some clarity.”
What I needed was her naked body against mine. That moan in my ear. “You think?”
“Yes. And some inner peace. Deep down you’re craving it.”
Deep down I was craving a taste of her pussy, but I didn’t think I should mention it. “Okay.”
“Maybe you should try yoga,” she suggested. “Learn to find your center.”
The only center I wanted to find was hers. “Yoga? No way.”
“Well, we have to think of something to decrease your stress level. What about sex?”
I froze. “What about it?”
“Does it relax you?”
“You know, you don’t have to try to fix me. I’m fine.” And you definitely shouldn’t talk about sex—I’m hanging on to gentleman by a very thin thread here.
She sighed dramatically and held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop bothering you.”
“Thank you. You know, when you’re not trying to poke at my feelings, hanging out with you tonight is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
Her face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
Her cheeks turned pink and her dimples appeared, making me even warmer beneath my clothes. “That makes me feel good.”
“Here you go.” Jacie appeared and dropped off the check, which I grabbed before April could get her hands on it, although she tried, getting up on her knees and practically crawling onto my lap.
“Will you stop?” I held it way out of her reach with my right hand. “This is on me.”
“No! You don’t have to buy my dinner.”
“I know I don’t.”
“This is my family’s restaurant!”
“Don’t care.”
“Can we at least split it?”
“Fuck off. See? I said it.”
Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance Page 7
