Afternoon Delight Scrivener

by Piper Rayne

  “Pleasure.”

  “How come you never mentioned a girlfriend?” Her entire body shifts to face Dean, like I’m not even there.

  I roll my eyes.

  “It’s a new thing.”

  “Or an old thing,” I chime in with an insincere smile.

  Judge me if you want, but I hate when girls think it’s some sort of pissing contest. Can’t we just allow another girl to get a guy and be happy? If she’s been setting the hints down and he didn’t pick them up, he’s not interested. Move on. Why do you want a man who’s not interested in you? You’re worth more than that.

  Dean chuckles lightly, glancing over at me with a sparkle in his dark eyes.

  “So, you’re an on again off again hook up?” Hillary asks.

  “You can’t be serious,” slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

  Dean’s hand lands on my side, applying a little pressure.

  “Excuse me?” Only her head swivels my way.

  “Nothing.” I bite my tongue. Dean owes me big for this one. I circle around, place my hand on Dean’s chest, my fingers running up and down. “I’m going to go get that drink.” I lift on my tiptoes, plant a kiss on his cheek and then set my eyes on Hillary. “Nice to meet you.”

  She smiles, and I walk away before any voices or fists are raised.

  The bartender sets a napkin in front of me, another woman but thankfully not an admirer of Dean. At least not yet. “What can I get you?” she asks.

  “Just a Miller Lite.”

  I keep my eyes poised on the televisions and not once do I allow them to linger toward Dean and Hillary. He isn’t mine. I’m here as a favor. Yes, he says he wants me back, but it’s yet to be established whether he really has changed.

  I continue to stare at the television, feigning interest. Sometimes I’m so good at acting like I don’t care it scares me.

  “I like you.” The bartender washes a glass and I’m surprised how few people are here. Surely this isn’t his entire office. “Ballsy to wear the black and white.”

  “I’m not going to pretend I’m a Cubs fan.”

  She smiles, lifting another glass. She’s probably in her late thirties, a modest wedding ring on her left finger.

  “Good for you. Nothing good comes from pretending to be someone you’re not.”

  “That’s for sure.” I sip my beer, sitting down on a stool and watching another televised game in a different city.

  Her sentence causes a lump to lodge in my throat. Is that what Dean is doing? Is he pretending? My insecurity wins over my pride and my gaze veers to Dean who’s now talking to a group of two men. Relief hits me fast and hard. I take in the rest of the room and find Hillary by the opening to the bar, talking with a group of women who look like they’re currently rating me on a scale of one to worthy of dating Dean Bennett.

  It doesn’t take long for Dean to join me, his hand going up to get the attention of the friendly bartender whose name tag reads Noelle. “Just a water please.”

  “Are you bleeding?” I ask, and his large frame sits down on the stool next to me.

  “What?”

  “From her claws digging into you.”

  He chuckles. “I always did love you jealous.”

  “And you went to great lengths to make me jealous.”

  Noelle opens the bottle of water for him, placing it on the napkin and sliding it in front of him.

  “She’s Heiberman’s daughter.” He confesses and it all clicks together.

  “And she wants you?”

  “I’m not available.” He gulps down half his water, setting it back down.

  “Yes, you are.” I swivel my stool in his direction, noticing the ladies still trying to figure it all out. I can hear them now, “Why is Dean wasting his time with her?” I could list a whole spreadsheet of my great qualities, but they’d probably still be confused.

  “Even if you don’t agree to be my girlfriend, it doesn’t make me available. My heart only belongs to you. That hasn’t changed.” He says this all with a straight face.

  Words that would never have come out of Dean’s mouth five years ago.

  I reach up, the back of my hand touching his forehead. “You feeling okay there?”

  He snatches my hand, bringing it down to his lap. “I’ve never been better.” He stands up upon hearing the national anthem. “I think we’re here to see a ballgame.”

  “That we are.” I allow him to guide me to the opening, sitting us on the opposite side of the woman who shall not be named.

  We mingle with another tax attorney and his wife. Although they’re a little older, they enjoy razzing me about being a Sox fan and they’re cool with me hammering it back as the Sox score against the Cubs.

  “Do you want another beer?” Dean leans over, his lips dangerously close to my earlobe.

  “Maybe just a water.”

  He nods, stands and heads to the bar.

  A minute later Hillary takes his seat.

  “Hi, I just wanted you to know I meant no offense, it’s just usually when a guy doesn’t mention a girlfriend it’s because she’s really just a booty call.”

  I stare at what I assume is a Long Island Ice Tea and then look into her eyes. I really hope she’s acting like this because she’s drunk.

  “I’m not even close to a booty call for Dean.” My attention moves to the field as they let the new pitcher warm up.

  “There’s nothing bad about that. Like I said, no offense.”

  Do yourself a favor, Hillary, stop drinking and head back over to your side.

  “Listen.” I swivel in my chair. The nice couple behind us is polite enough not to stop me. “You’re the one he doesn’t want. I’m sorry to tell you this and I know you’re probably a little inebriated, but Dean would marry me if I asked him right now. He sought me out because he wants me back. I can tell that you’ve probably liked him for some time and I get it, I’ve been single for five years. You have to dig hard for a good, available guy and Dean is a great catch.” I place my hand on her leg and she stares at it like it’s bird shit that just landed on her. “You deserve someone who wants you. Who chases you. A guy who is available. Don’t go around trying to break another woman’s self-esteem because you think you deserve her man.”

  She picks up my hand with her thumb and forefinger, disposing it back in my lap.

  “Get a clue. He might like you now, but I give it two weeks.”

  She stands and heads to the other side of the seating area. After she’s gone, the woman in the row behind me pats me on the back. Dean’s large frame slides by me to his seat. He sits down without saying anything and hands me my cold bottle of water.

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, I gotta keep up the appearance of being a good catch.” I elbow him in the ribs and he fakes injury. “I did like the way you kind of claimed me.”

  “You heard wrong,” I say.

  “I don’t think I did.”

  “I said you claimed me.” I focus my attention on the field. Anything other than give in to the pull toward Dean.

  “One day you will.” He lifts one leg and rests his ankle on his knee. He’s nothing but casual as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

  “Nice move,” I murmur.

  “Well, I’ve got no shot at Hillary now that you went all girl power on her.” I elbow him again. “Okay, that one hurt.”

  “Good,” I deadpan.

  “Now we just sit and wait for the kiss cam.”

  I glance over and his usual smirk rests on his face. “Pushing it.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not looking for the hard on inducer one from the elevator the other night, but a little peck never hurt anyone.”

  “Sorry to tell you but the kiss cam doesn’t do rooftops.”

  “Damn it. No nachos and no kiss cam. What kind of baseball game is this?”

  I giggle and somehow our bodies end up closer together.

  The couple behind us heads to the bar, leaving us by
ourselves. Mr. Heiberman is regaling the rest of Dean’s co-workers with some story near the area where the food is laid out. I’m not sure he’s seen much of the game at all.

  Hillary and her friends finally descend on a table. Other than a few scattered other employees it’s just the two of us who are concentrating on the game.

  “Does it bother you?” I ask the question that’s been at the back of my mind most of the day. Hell, from the moment he brought up taking me to the game.

  “What? Being at a baseball game?” His mood shifts and I regret bringing up the subject, but if he truly changed, this is where I’ll find the answer and I need to know.

  “Yeah. That you could have been out there,” I say in a soft voice.

  He shrugs. “I might not have. I mean people assumed I’d make the bigs, but there was never any guarantee. I could be on a bus right now off to play in the minors.”

  “You think about it a lot?”

  “Of course. It was my dream.”

  Dean was already in talks about being drafted before his chirping another guy at the bar one night got him involved in a bar fight that tore up his shoulder. No team wants a pitcher with a bad shoulder and suddenly team scouts stopped showing up or calling and Dean fell into a depression. A depression that cost us our marriage.

  “But do you…”

  “No, I don’t wallow in it.” He looks me straight in the eye as if he’s willing me to see the truth there. “I’m happy being a tax attorney, believe it or not. Do I ever think what if? All the time, but there’s a helluva lot more to life than playing professional ball.”

  “You didn’t think that once upon a time.” Even I can hear the hurt in my tone and so I sip my water to push down the lump forming in my throat.

  “I told you I’ve changed. I’m not lying, Chelsea. I know what destroyed us and I’m here to tell you it won’t this time.”

  The saying ‘a leopard doesn’t change its spots’ pops into my head.

  “So, you’d rather deal with taxes than be out there.” I point to the field.

  “If it means I have you with me, then right here, every time.”

  “Man, you’re heavy on the lines tonight.” I shake my head at him with a smile.

  He winks, the one that makes my stomach flip. “Are they working?”

  I hold up my finger and thumb, opening a small space between them.

  “How about a bet?” He glances over to the scoreboard and I do the same.

  Cubs, nine. White Sox, eight. Close game.

  “Let me guess, sexual?”

  “Is there any other?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “With you? No.” I chuckle.

  He swivels in my direction, the game no longer on his radar. “It’s my way to get you to do things you really want to do but are too stubborn to admit.” He takes my hand and squeezes it.

  “Maybe I don’t want to play your game then?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “Oh, you’ll play. How’s this? Whoever wins gets a double after the game.”

  “A double cheeseburger? Deal.” I hold out my hand.

  He stares down at it and then back up to my eyes. “Let me be clearer, whoever wins, gets to second base.”

  “Are we skipping first?”

  “I’d never skip first with you, Chels.”

  I ignore the way his words heat the blood in my veins.

  “How come I feel like I’m getting the raw end of this deal? I get to feel your nipples. Yippee.”

  He widens his legs. “You’re welcome to steal third.”

  A flash of heat invades my face. “Well, you’re not.”

  We shake on it and from that point on, the game gets a whole lot more interesting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sun is descending, and I smile to myself when Dean turns the handlebars of his motorcycle down Lake Shore Drive.

  My arms are securely wrapped around his waist, my cheek on his back. I can’t help but wish I didn’t have to wear this helmet so that I could feel the heat of his skin on my face. His muscles flex under my hands as he maneuvers the bike past cars. The breeze off the lake makes me happy that I chose to put my sweatshirt on before we left.

  The ride ends way too quickly for my liking when he slows the bike, parking it along the curb, Lake Michigan on our left and Grant Park on our right.

  He puts down the kickstand, gets up and holds out his hand for me.

  After securing our helmets in the side pockets, his fingers wind with mine as we walk along the sidewalk. Buckingham Fountain comes into view with its lights glowing under the streaming water sprouting out of the concrete fixture.

  “You know when you asked me about baseball earlier?”

  In the five-minute trip from the stadium, his mood has shifted from playful to serious, causing a nervous weight to press on my chest.

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t say something I should have.”

  The gravel around the fountain crunches under our feet and I admire the beautiful scene in front of me—the fountain spray with the skyline of Chicago in the backdrop. The scene seems contrary to the conversation we’re about to have. I’ve pushed it away as long as I could, but from the look on Dean’s face he’s not going to let it slide any longer. Still, I don’t know if I’m ready to discuss…everything.

  “What?”

  “I only have one regret.”

  “You shouldn’t have any regrets.”

  He stops me and sits me on a bench on the outside perimeter the fountain. “Will you let me talk?”

  I face him, hearing the frustration in his tone.

  “I only have one regret,” he says again, his gaze intense.

  “The fight? I know. It sucks.”

  “Jesus, Chelsea.” He sounds mad and I don’t really understand why.

  “What?”

  “Listen to me.” He takes my shoulders in his hands, squeezing lightly. “It’s not the fight. Not my finest moment, but that’s not it.”

  I keep my mouth shut, purposely staring him in the eye to let him know I won’t interrupt him again.

  “It’s you. Losing you is my regret.” His voice breaks on the last word and he takes my hands in his. “I’m trying to take this slow. I’m trying not to push you, but please tell me we’re moving forward?” The desperation in his voice sounds like he’s pleading with a higher power on his deathbed for just one more minute on this Earth.

  “Dean,” I sigh, sliding my hands from under his and standing and stepping toward the fountain.

  “Why can’t you answer me?” He comes up alongside me.

  Thankfully, most people aren’t lingering around and the people who are aren’t paying us any attention.

  I sigh. “You’re asking a lot of me.”

  I admire the water shooting, the colors, again trying not to feel the pull to Dean.

  “What else do I have to do to prove to you before you’ll give us an honest chance?” he asks.

  “I’ve let you take me out twice, you’ve kissed me, and if I make good on the bet, you get to feel me up tonight.” I turn his way and a smile graces his lips.

  Of course, it does. What guy doesn’t want to feel up a pair of titties?

  “I’m not doing that unless you want me to. You do want me to though, right?” he chuckles, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me close. “I know you feel it.” He brushes a stray hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. “When are you going to start being honest with yourself?”

  Question of the century.

  Can’t people want someone but never act on it if they know it’s bad for them?

  “I can’t deny it, Dean. That’s not my hesitation.”

  For some reason, rather than stepping away, I move closer, needing to feel him. Needing to let him shelter me and loving the safety of his arms.

  “I’m afraid.” I rest my chin on his chest, staring up at him. “I won’t make it through another heartbreak from you.” A single tear slips from my
eye. “You didn’t see me after.”

  “And you didn’t see me.” He wipes the tear with his thumb before it falls down my cheek. “I might’ve been the cause of our divorce, but it was no easier on me. It took me a long time to get my shit together, but I did. I’m an impatient man. I waited a long time to come for you, but I’m here, and I’ll wait until you’re ready, Chelsea. Just tell me I’m on the right path. Tell me I’m winning this battle and I’ll continue to fight to win the war.”

  I stare into his chocolate eyes, and without thinking nearly enough about my decision, I let my heart speak for me.

  Stretching up on my tiptoes, I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself and press my lips to his. Warmth spreads through my body and I fall back down to my heels. “You’re winning.”

  His hand slowly moves to my neck and he pulls me into his chest, one arm tight around my waist, the other one cupping the back of my head.

  “Here.” He lets me go and digs into his pocket, retrieving two pennies. He places one in my palm. “Make a wish.”

  I take it from his hand, walking the distance to the edge of the fountain. Closing my eyes, I wish for something I’ve wished for before at a fountain located a thousand miles away on the Vegas Strip. This time I hope whoever grants fountain wishes hears me.

  Dean kisses his penny and tosses it in.

  “What did you wish for?” I ask.

  “I’m hoping the same thing you did.” He takes my hand in his again. “Now I want you to fill me in on everything I missed over the past five years.” He guides me down the path farther into Grant Park.

  I chuckle. “In a nutshell, I got my degree and had a string of jobs until I landed this one.”

  “Come on. I want all the details. I want it to be like I missed no time in your life.”

  “Well, I walked out of our apartment and sat in my car for an hour…”

  He frowns for a second and then says, “Let’s skip to a few months after you left me.” There’s no anger in his voice, just a calm acceptance.

  “I transferred to the city.”

  For the next hour, I tell him about going to school in the city versus the country town where we met. We discuss the reason I couldn’t seem to find a job I liked, about how I ended up at RISE. My parents, Skylar and Beckett, Zoe and Vin. Lastly, he admits he saw Mikey at a club three years ago. When he asked about me, Mikey punched him in the face.