Sidelined: A Wilde Players Dirty Romance

by Terri E. Laine

  “Yes. You?” I ask, truly curious if he’s visiting or not.

  A cloud of frost escapes his mouth when he sighs and runs a gloved hand through hair that appears highlighted by the sun despite the season. “I’m not sure.”

  My brows rise as I give him a conspicuous look before responding with a half laugh. “That’s odd. Either you are or you’re not.” My tone, although playful, doesn’t stop my gut from twisting into complicated knots.

  He shrugs. “I’m testing the waters. Now that I’ve finished my fellowship—”

  “You’ve finished?” I blurt, surprised by his admission.

  His smile is warm but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. And I feel foolish for even asking. Of course he finished. He was close to completion when I ran.

  “Don’t,” he whispers, moving in closer.

  Even on the crowded street his quiet word rings in my ears. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s reading my soul. All of a sudden, I feel the anguish he must see on my face. He holds my gaze a second longer. Then he straightens and continues as if no time apart has passed between us.

  “I’m temporarily working with one of the top guys in oncology. A doctor in his practice is out on maternity leave. I’m filling in, but it has the potential to lead to a full-time position. It could be an opportunity of a lifetime. However, I need to figure out if I like the area enough to make a permanent move. You know my heart’s in Charleston. The rest is up to fate.”

  That word again. Has fate placed him in my path? What are the odds that I’d slip and he’d be the one to catch me, miles and miles away from our hometown?

  There are many reasons why I shouldn’t be curious. The biggest of which is that I’d left Charleston after he gave me many reasons to stay.

  “I should head back to work. I’m already late,” I mutter with averted eyes.

  His hand halts my escape, making it impossible to move around him. Earnest eyes search mine before he decides what he wants to say.

  “We should have lunch or dinner? Something to do with a meal. I know your favorite is Italian. Word has it there is a good restaurant not too far from here.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit honestly. My captured eyes break from his in favor of the ground, searching for an escape hatch. As beautiful as the man is, so much pain surrounds any possible relationship between us. I hurt him when I left and I hurt myself as well.

  A finger lifts my chin as he forces me to stare into his gorgeous eyes.

  “We don’t have to talk about the past—Charleston, the hospital, any of it. It can be as if we’re meeting for the first time. We can make a brand new start.”

  My heart gallops like a thoroughbred on a wild boar hunt.

  “Drew—”

  He shakes his head again. “No, let’s try something new.”

  He takes a small step back before proffering his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Andy.”

  “Andy?” I’m sure my eyebrows shoot into my hairline.

  He leans in and whispers, “Calling me anything else would remind you of the past.”

  I bite my bottom lip because the name does stir ugly emotions in my stomach. They are the kind that turns my face red with fat tears spilling down my cheeks. I’ve run from those emotions and the man before me.

  Unable to do anything else with the hand offered to me as if in truce, I take it with a faint smile. “Hi, Andy.”

  He keeps my hand for many seconds, much longer than any stranger would. When we finally let go, a crooked smile that should be properly named a sexy smirk appears on his face. “Nice to meet you, Cate.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows. “Can I have your number?”

  The cliché line should be cheesy, but the way he says it would make any woman’s panties melt.

  I glance away, not wanting him to see how affected I am. More than that, he subtly lets me know that he realizes I’ve changed my number. That means he’s tried to call me despite it all. The fact that he doesn’t give me crap about it adds value to his declaration of a fresh start.

  He uses his black leather-gloved hand to touch my cheek and draw me from my inner turmoil. I’m forced to face him and the truth of my actions.

  “I see your pretty little head working. We’re here in DC away from everything. No one has to know,” he says before letting me go.

  The idea that our family or friends might catch the slightest clue we’re considering dating freaks me out. After everything, I still haven’t forgiven myself. I shake that thought away. In a moment of free will, I pull my phone from my pocket. God only knows if I’m making the right decision, but I’m tired of running. Let me rephrase that. I’m tired of running from him.

  “What’s yours?”

  His smile thaws me from my face all the way to my toes. He doesn’t answer. The pads of his gloved thumb glide over my cheeks.

  “You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you.”

  His eyes laser onto mine in a way that sends a shockwave to my core. Just like then, I’m embarrassed by my reaction to him. The idea of his touch makes my center clench with expectation.

  I watch his lips move as he recites his number. It’s a wonder how I manage to hear him, as I’m transfixed thinking about all the things he can do with his capable mouth. The text I send is simple. Three words, the order of which come from my inner vixen.

  Lunch Dinner or Breakfast.

  Wanting to be sexy for the first time in ages, I begin to stroll away after a quick farewell with an extra bounce in my step only to slip again.

  When he catches me for a second time, he whispers, “If you keep falling, I’ll think you want my hands on you. And that will mean our first meal together will be breakfast.”

  His steamy words blow across my cheek and the heat causes a shudder to run through me. Since he’s at my back, I can’t see his expression. But I know well enough that his face sports a cocky grin. Only when I turn to say something, he’s already walking away in the opposite direction. I roll my lower lip in and gently bite. I try not to be giddy about having lunch with Drew… no. Andy. I force myself to push thoughts of the past out of my head. Least of which is how I can ever forgive myself. After all we’ve lost and how I left, I could have never expected that he would ever want to see me or forgive me, either.

  Yet somehow in the last ten minutes, my life has taken a decided turn. Worse, I can’t get my mind off of him. In all the time since I saw him last, I’ve worked hard at forgetting and trying to move on. I step carefully forward with nervous anticipation. The fact that I haven’t been with anyone of consequence since him scares me. To allow myself the vulnerability of placing my heart on the line freaks me out. But the possibility of breakfast with him stirs a hunger within me that food can never fulfill.

  When I get a text back, Dinner with the possibly of breakfast, with a winking emoji, I wonder if I have any right to the grin that broadens across my face.

  MY ROOMMATE, JENNA, LEANS AGAINST the doorframe. I catch her out the corner of my eye. She knows my rule—no interruptions while I’m writing. My nose zeroes in on my computer screen and fingers fly across the keyboard. What feels like a thousand plus papers I have due the first month of this semester is the reason behind the rule. Jenna doesn’t speak; she just occupies space. Unfortunately, she’s enough of a distraction that I lose my train of thought and start typing inane crap.

  “Okay. I give up. What do you want?” The question is half born from frustration, the other in jest.

  She crosses her arms over her chest, determined to tell me something. “I have news.” An indecent grin grows on her face like a weed.

  “News?” My face pinches into a frown.

  “Remember my brother’s friend that was at the party last weekend?”

  “I guess.” Truthfully, I don’t have a clue who she’s talking about, but I need to get back to the paper that’s due tomorrow. Besides, Ben mingled with a ton of people at that party. I almost glance away but she’s quick to respond to keep my atte
ntion.

  “You have to remember. He’s adorable. Tall, sandy blond, blue eyes. His name’s Drew?”

  Her face lights up as if she’s an entertainment news reporter with a breaking headline story.

  “And?” Because honestly, as much as I’d love to chat, all the work I need to do trumps guy talk.

  “He wants you. Bad.”

  I pause for a second at the way she added that last part. Then I shake it off.

  “Is that what you interrupted my train of thought for, crazy girl?” Smiling, I throw the pencil that’s tucked in my ear at her.

  “Hey!” She laughs because she thinks I’ll give in. “Drew is hot. Smokin’ hot. As sin on a graham cracker.”

  “Okay, one, I don’t have time for Smokin’ Hot Drew. And two, what the hell is sin on a graham cracker?”

  “A s’more. That’s what. And he’s better than that. And you know how much I love s’mores.”

  I shake my head because Jenna has always been boy crazy. Lucky for her, she’s been successful at meeting the right guys.

  “As tasty as he sounds, I’m far too busy these days. I have to maintain my grades to keep my scholarship.” I turn my attention back to the computer and try to remember what I was about to type.

  “Jeez, Cate, all you do is study and write. I practically had to drag you to that party on Saturday. I swear if it hadn’t been for Ben being in town, you never would’ve gone.”

  I roll my head around, trying to ease the stiffness in my neck. “You know why I can’t take a break. If I lose my scholarship, there goes my tuition money. As it is, I can barely afford what the scholarship doesn’t cover. My parents warned me about my financial situation when I decided to go to school here.” She stares at me like she’s forgotten. I sigh. “It’s all on me.” Finally, I spell it out, hoping she remembers. “My family doesn’t have money like yours does. That means I have to keep my grades up. I almost screwed all that up with dickwad.”

  Jenna frowns. “Jeez Cate. One little break won’t kill you.”

  “Yeah, I went to the party, didn’t I, and got wasted. I don’t remember half the things I did. Besides, last time I gave my attention to some guy it almost cost me. I learned a huge lesson that time. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you were talking about the way …”

  I have to stop her. That is one memory that needs to stay buried. My palm flies up in the air as I groan. “That was a fucking catastrophe all around. I mean, I tried to sleep with the jerk and you know how that went.”

  She runs over to me and hugs me. “I’m sorry. I know he hurt you.”

  “Yeah, even worse, it was humiliating,” I mumble into her shoulder. “Not only that, my grades crashed. I can’t go through that again. I’m taking extra classes and working double time to make up for that semester. So no. Graham cracker sin can’t be an option right now. I wish it could be different.”

  Jenna pulls her hair out of an elastic band and twists it up in a messy bun, wrapping the band around it again. “After all the time you spent ogling him and chatting it up with him on Saturday, I thought that maybe you were interested.”

  Scrunching up my face, I say, “Um, yeah, those details are totally sketchy to me.”

  “You’re positive then?”

  “I wish I could, but studying comes first. Now scram so I can get something done.”

  She sidles out the door and I resume my work. But now I have to conjure up some BS because the old thought choo choo has chugged right off the tracks. This sucks. After about twenty minutes, I get up and decide to go for a run. Running always helps my brain reconnect. I tie my shoes and charge out the door. Forty minutes later when I get back, there’s a lovely bouquet of flowers on the counter.

  “You got a delivery while you were gone,” Jenna announces with a smirk.

  I rest my arms on the counter and stretch my calves as curiosity has me leaning toward the little white card that reads, Cate Forbes. “From who?”

  “My guess is they’re from Drew, that’s who,” Jenna says, moving closer to face me.

  “Right.” I laugh because I know my best friend. “You bought them and are pretending they’re from Drew, didn’t you?”

  Jenna actually has the decency to look appalled. With fingers at the hollow of her throat, she says, “Seriously. You think I would do that?”

  “Yes, I do.” I nod at the same time.

  “Damn. You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

  “Yes, I do. I love you, in fact. But when you set your mind on something, deviant Jenna comes out in full force.”

  She rolls her eyes and giggles. “Okay, so I did not send the flowers, but now I wish I had.”

  This is confusing. “You really didn’t?”

  “I’ll pinky swear if you want.” She holds out her finger.

  So if she didn’t, then that Drew dude must have. I walk back to the flowers and with hesitant fingers reach for the little card that came with them.

  “It won’t bite, you know.” Jenna’s sarcasm reaches me from across the room.

  I grab the card and read it.

  I would love a chance to take you to dinner.

  Drew McKnight.

  “What does it say?”

  Perplexed, I mumble, “Oh my. He’s asked me to dinner. And these are beautiful. I’ve never gotten flowers before.” I lean in to inhale their fragrance.

  “They are and when did he ask you out? And don’t frown. You know my mom says that’s a sure way to create early wrinkles.”

  This whole flower thing has me completely shocked. No one has ever done anything so sweet like this for me before. “No set date, just that he’d like to take me.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Don’t get your panties all wet over this.” I say that but in reality, I’m the one getting nervous.

  “You swear you don’t remember him? He was with my brother the entire night. And the two of you had a cozy little chat going.”

  Grabbing her arm, I squeak, “No I don’t remember! Help me, Jenna! I was hammered. I barely remember seeing Ben.” The night is fuzzy at best. “Wait a minute. If he’s Ben’s friend, how old is this dude?”

  “Ben’s age.”

  “What? That would make him what? Twenty-seven?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Jeez. That’s like gramps. No way can I go out with a man that old.”

  “He’s in his second year of residency. He’s a doctor.” She says it like she’s dangling a golden carrot in front of my face.

  “So? That’s supposed to make him datable? I don’t care if he’s the President of the United States’ son. He’s too old for me. He’s probably ready for a wife or something. I’m trying to finish school not start a family.”

  “Damn, Cate, calm down. It’s not like he’s twenty years older than you. It’s seven. That’s it. Lots of girls our age date guys seven years older than they are.”

  “Oh yeah? Like who.”

  “That Scarlett chick from our English class freshman year. She did.”

  “Yeah, and she’s slept with almost every guy at Purdue. She keeps the Boilermakers running strong. She singlehandedly kept the entire fourth year mechanical engineering guys in blow jobs that year.”

  “Pure conjecture.”

  “Pure? That’s not a word I would use in the same sentence that had anything to do with Scarlett.”

  “Damn, are you hardheaded. Just go out with him. One date. If you don’t like him or you think he’s too old after that, then fine. You don’t ever have to see him again.”

  When I put some thought into it, there must have been some kind of spark between us for me to have spent time with him at the party, even if I was a little wasted. That’s not the type of thing I normally do. My style is to stay clear of all guys.

  “Okay… I’ll do it. Give him my cell number. But please don’t give me a hard time if it doesn’t work out, especially since he’s friends with Ben.”

  “No worries
on that, my friend.”

  Later that night, I’m running through my to do list on the number of papers I have to write and how many will require a significant amount of research. Having a double major is not much of a picnic, but I couldn’t make a choice between accounting and journalism, so here I am, writing my ass off. But honestly, I love it.

  When my phone rings, I answer it without looking at the caller ID. I figure it’s my mom. She usually calls at this hour because she knows it’s the best time to catch me.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  A crazy sexy voice answers, “Um yeah, this isn’t Mom. This is Drew…” When I don’t respond, he adds, “McKnight.”

  Shit. Drew. Flower and date man. Gramps! “Oh, hey. W-what’s up?” I stutter. This weird nervousness settles over me because I can’t remember anything about him and suddenly I feel terrible about it. But if he’s half as good looking as he sounds or as Jenna says, I might be in trouble.

  “Jenna gave me your number.” His voice is warm and breezy and makes me remember just how long my lady parts have been neglected.

  “Yes! Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re gorgeous. That was very sweet of you,” I add.

  “You’re welcome. I, um, didn’t know how else to get you to agree to a date.”

  Now I feel bad. It makes me feel bitchy that he had to go to those lengths. “Oh, I didn’t …”

  “No worries, Cate. I was only giving you a taste of my good, old-fashioned, southern charm.” I sense a smile behind his words and immediately feel better.

  “Well, it worked. How could I possibly say no to flowers?” Did I just flirt with him? I need to pull it together. He’s putting a huge dent in my no dating wall and I need to remind myself that I don’t have time to date.

  “Are you occupied on Saturday?”

  Occupied? Who asks if someone is occupied? I have to stifle a laugh.

  “Let me check.” Of course I’m not, but I don’t want him to think I’m the loser that I am. So I let several seconds pass before I answer. “No, I’m free.” The words slip out because Jenna’s right. I have been spending way too much time on the computer. One night of harmless fun won’t cause me to lose my scholarship.