Squeeze Play

by Aven Ellis

  There’s a knock at the door, which makes Pissy hiss as she enters the living room, and my excitement rushes through me as I let Brody in.

  I open the door, and as soon as I do, I feel my mouth drop open.

  Brody has never looked sexier than he does at this moment.

  I forget to speak as I stare at him. Oh, he’s absolutely gorgeous in a trim fit navy suit that shows off his athletic build and a crisp, pale-blue dress shirt that makes his amazing eyes appear even bluer. Brody has added some product to his hair, causing his waves to become almost curly, and his beard is sexily trimmed to neat stubble.

  My eyes land on his pocket square, and my heart races inside my chest, pounding against my ribs.

  There’s no handkerchief folded in there.

  But the torn lace from my sweater, the one that caught in his bracelet the other night, is.

  I lift my eyes to meet his.

  Brody is keeping the fabric from my sweater close to his heart.

  I think I’m going to cry.

  I just fell that much farther for him.

  I’m about to speak, but he beats me to it.

  “Hayley,” Brody says, his eyes flickering over me, “God, you’re breathtaking tonight.”

  Breathtaking.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling radiant from his compliment. “Come in, you dashing, handsome, sexy man. I missed you.”

  Brody flashes me a grin, and as soon as I see that dimple, I’m done.

  He reaches for me, sliding his hands around my waist.

  “I missed you, too,” he says, stroking my waist. “I love this dress on you. You’re beautiful and elegant, and I can’t wait to take you out. I love everything about the way you look tonight.”

  I put my hands on his lapels and fiddle with them. “That could be our song, you know. ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ by Frank Sinatra.”

  “Oh, you think so? Play it in your head. Let’s see if it’s good to dance to,” Brody says. Then he quickly lowers me into an unexpected dip like we’re dancing, his strong arms holding me as I hang back toward the floor.

  I erupt into giggles, and he laughs as he brings me upright. I place my hand over the pocket holding my sweater fabric.

  “I like your pocket square,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

  “I’m glad,” he says. “It still smells like your perfume. It reminds me of you.”

  I think my knees are going to buckle.

  A tiny meow catches our attention, and we both glance down to see Pissy rubbing all around Brody’s suit pants.

  “Hey, Pissy,” Brody says cheerfully, bending down and stroking her fur. “I’d pick you up, but we have to go.”

  She is now purring loudly, like a motor, and continuing to move all around his legs.

  “She’s marking you,” I say.

  “What?”

  “When cats do that, they are saying you belong to them.”

  Brody’s eyes meet mine. “I see.”

  And I know I want him to belong to me, too.

  He clears his throat. “We should get going. Then we can have a drink before dinner.”

  “I’ll get my coat,” I say, moving to the tiny hall closet. I retrieve my ivory wool coat, which is long and streamlined and ties with a big sash, and Brody moves behind me to help me into it.

  I laugh. “It’s kind of like an elegant robe,” I say.

  “I like it,” Brody murmurs, bending down next to my ear. “And I like you.”

  Then he places a gentle kiss on the side of my neck, his lips warm against my skin.

  Oh, my.

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  I retrieve my clutch and find Brody waiting for me with his hand extended. I put my hand in his, once again feeling like I’m right where I’m meant to be. With our hands entwined. Us, together.

  Us.

  I love that word.

  We leave the apartment, and after I take a moment to lock the door, we’re on our way.

  “The driver is waiting downstairs,” Brody says as he punches the down button for the elevator.

  “Driver?” I ask, intrigued.

  “Yes. I plan to have a few drinks tonight,” Brody says. “So, I got a driver. He’s downstairs in a Cadillac Escalade, a bit of an upgrade from my normal ride.”

  The doors chime open, and Brody ushers me inside. I turn to him, squeezing his hand in mine.

  “I like your Jeep. And I like you,” I say, repeating his words back to him.

  “I would kiss you right now, but I don’t want to mess up your lipstick,” Brody says, his free hand caressing my cheek.

  “Promise you’ll mess it up later?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  We reach the ground floor and Brody leads me to the car that is waiting for us in visitor parking. The driver steps outside and opens the door for me, and Brody helps me step up and get inside. Then he goes around to the other side and joins me in the backseat.

  “I can’t wait to see where we’re going,” I say excitedly.

  “Capitol Hill,” Brody says, reaching for my hand. “It’s a little restaurant inside a three-story row house. According to reviews, it’s intimate and romantic.”

  “You did your homework,” I say.

  “Ha. For once, I willingly did it. Let’s see if I get an A instead of barely passing grades like I did back in school.”

  Brody is smiling at me, but I see something shift in his eyes. He’s mocking himself, about his own perceived lack of intelligence, as part of his protective shield.

  “I have no doubt you’ve aced this,” I say, staring into his eyes, “because you’re an extremely intelligent man.”

  “Nah. You’re the smart one. You’re the Georgetown girl. I’m sure you pictured yourself with some guy with a master’s degree, not a baseball player who barely graduated high school.” He pauses before speaking again. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re with me.”

  I draw a surprised breath of air. Does he genuinely think that a college diploma matters to me?

  “Brody,” I say, resting my hand on his handsome face. “I am smart, and I choose to go out with you.”

  He wraps his hand over mine and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. “How is it we just met a week ago? I feel like I’ve known you forever, Hayley. I know that’s insane to say, but I do.”

  My heart skips a beat. “I feel the same way, like you’ve always been a part of my life.”

  As his eyes linger on mine, I know things are going to change between us tonight. This romantic evening is the beginning of a more serious level in our relationship. Normally, I’d say you couldn’t have feelings like this after a week. If this were Katie, I’d be telling her she’s infatuated.

  But now I know differently.

  I have feelings for this man, strong ones.

  And I have a feeling they will only deepen before the end of the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Brody, this place is beautiful,” I say as we walk up to the elegant row house in Capitol Hill. It’s a beautiful gray building with white trim, and there’s a dark green awning with the name of the restaurant, 541 Place.

  “It looked posh from the online gallery,” Brody says. “I’m definitely out of my element. I’m wearing a tie. I don’t even have to wear a tie when I fly on the team charter.”

  “Now I feel honored you put on a tie to take me to dinner,” I say, adoring the fact that he did all of this for me.

  “You should,” Brody says, grinning at me.

  We reach the door, and Brody opens it for me. I gasp as soon as we step inside. The restaurant is rich in elegance. It’s dark and small. The first floor has brick walls and dozens of flickering votives. There’s a long bar against one wall, where patrons are enjoying drinks, and booths line the other. Best of all, there’s a man playing the piano in the corner, and I recognize the tune as “Ain’t that a Kick in the Head.”

  Behind the hostess stand is a narrow staircase that I bet leads to the din
ing room.

  “Good evening,” the hostess says as she returns to the stand. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes. Jensen,” Brody says. “Party of two.”

  I do an internal squee. I love the way that sounds.

  She clicks a few things on her computer. “Ah, yes, Mr. Jensen. You are celebrating an anniversary tonight, correct?”

  Anniversary?

  I shoot Brody a look, and to my surprise, I notice a slight flush creeping up his neck.

  “Yes, we are.”

  She smiles warmly at him. “Congratulations. We’ll have your table ready in a few minutes. Miss, may I check your coat?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” I say, undoing the sash.

  Brody moves behind me and helps me slip out of it, and then he hands it to the hostess. She takes it and smiles at us. “If you’d like to have a seat at the bar, I’ll come get you when your table is ready.”

  “Thank you,” Brody says.

  He motions for me to go first, and I feel his fingertips against the small of my back, sending delicious tingles down my spine. We reach the bar, and after sitting down, I turn to Brody.

  “What anniversary are we celebrating?” I ask.

  “It’s been one week since you threw coffee on my crotch.”

  I begin laughing, and he does, too.

  “I’ll never live that down.”

  “Nope. But it’s more than that. It’s been a week since this beautiful woman has come into my life and turned it upside down. I want to celebrate it. The beginning of us.”

  The beginning of us.

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like to celebrate more,” I say.

  “Good evening,” the bartender says, placing two cocktail napkins down on the countertop. “What may I get you to drink?”

  “What do you want? Champagne to start?” Brody asks.

  “Perfect,” I say happily, as I love a glass of bubbly.

  The bartender makes some recommendations, and we both agree on dry brut champagne. I turn to Brody after the bartender leaves.

  “I didn’t take you to be a champagne drinker,” I say.

  “I’m not, but it seems like the thing to do on a celebratory night.”

  “Okay, but if you are doing this for me, I’ll go along with whatever appetizer you want to order at dinner.”

  Brody cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re a risk taker, Cherry Blossom.”

  “I’m absolutely dangerous,” I tease as the bartender places two glasses of champagne in front of us.

  “You have no idea how much you are,” Brody says, his voice low.

  Ooh!

  “We should have a toast,” Brody says, lifting up his glass. “To spending the evening together.”

  “Cheers,” I say, clinking my glass against his.

  I take a sip of the champagne, which is wonderfully refreshing and dry, and put my glass down.

  “That’s so good,” I say, sighing happily.

  “It’s not bad,” Brody concedes with a smile that tells me he’d rather have something else. “If I get to share it with you, it suddenly has a hell of a lot more appeal.”

  Piano music floats around us, the candles flicker, and as I sip my champagne, Brody affectionately places his hand on my knee and begins drawing his thumb back and forth over my kneecap. Butterflies dance in my stomach.

  The evening has barely begun, and I already never want it to end.

  We talk as we wait for a table, leisurely sipping our brut and dipping our heads toward each other to murmur in each other’s ear. I have to admit, I do it on purpose just so I can inhale the scent of the Hermès cologne lingering on his tanned skin when I speak to him.

  The hostess returns for us, and we follow her upstairs to the cozy formal room. I feel an excited gasp escape my lips as soon as I see it.

  The room is rich in the past, with colonial-style décor and a floral rug covering the hardwood floor. A fire is roaring in a fireplace in the back of the room, and the tables are draped in white linen. Diners, dressed in their formal wear, are eating off gorgeous china.

  It’s exquisite.

  I spy an empty table next to the fireplace and hope that we are shown that one. When the hostess heads toward it, I’m absolutely delighted it’s where we’ll be dining tonight.

  “Would you like to sit next to the fireplace?” Brody asks.

  I nod. “Yes, thank you.”

  He pulls out my chair for me, and I take my seat.

  “Welcome to 541 Place,” she says, placing napkins in our laps. “Happy anniversary. Katia will be your server; she’ll be right with you.”

  I blush from her words, and I see Brody smiling at me from across the table.

  “What?” I say.

  “You blush a lot. It’s endearing,” he says.

  “You are going to make me turn the color of spaghetti sauce, and that’s not endearing.”

  “Well, not as endearing as checking your panty lines in a window, but close.”

  Now I know my face is flaming.

  “Shall we look at the menu?” I say, trying to ignore him.

  “If you need me to confirm they don’t exist, I’ll be happy to check for you later.”

  “So much for an elegant evening,” I tease. “My man wants to sit here and talk about panty lines.”

  Brody’s expression turns serious, and he begins to fidgets with his tie, and suddenly he seems uncomfortable.

  “Hayley, I’m sorry. I’m out of my element here.”

  What? Does he not get I’m teasing him?

  “Brody, please don’t say that. I was totally teasing you,” I reassure him.

  He rakes a hand through his hair and exhales. “But I feel uncomfortable in this kind of setting. It’s the type of place where intellectuals come to discuss political alliances and lobbying strategies, and all I can talk about is the difference between a change-up and a four-seam fastball.”

  His expression tells me he is afraid he doesn’t measure up to those around him.

  And I’m going to put a stop to it right now.

  “Do you need to know economic foreign policy to do your job?” I ask bluntly.

  “No, but—”

  “No, that’s your answer. You’re incredibly intelligent in the world of baseball. That’s your passion, like working for people with dyslexia is mine. We learned what we are passionate about, and a degree has nothing to do with that.”

  Brody stares back at me, his eyes serious in contemplation.

  “I look around here,” he says softly, “and I know what crowd this is. I know we are early in this, but I really like you. I want to see where this could go. But . . . when I’m in an environment like this, where I’m so far from where I came from, I worry. I worry that someday you’ll want someone from this world. Not mine.”

  A huge lump swells in my throat. Brody is laying a fear out right in front of me. That somehow he won’t measure up to what he thinks I should have. I can’t believe how vulnerable he is and that he’s willing to share this fear with me.

  Maybe it’s time to share mine with him.

  “Brody,” I say, my voice thick, “don’t you think I wonder about the kind of woman a professional athlete would date? One who is a size two with six-pack abs? Who doesn’t accidentally send selfies of herself in the wrong-sized bra to the guy she just started seeing? Or who doesn’t own a ton of appliances, so many she can’t remember them all, and who probably bought them to fill a void? Don’t you think I worry that you’ll discover all kinds of odd things about me and eventually run for the door? I’m scared, too, but we’re both here because what this could be is too good for us not see it grow.”

  Brody appears stunned by my admission.

  As am I. My heart is racing, as I’ve never been serious about a man in my life. So to not only have these feelings so early on, but to verbalize them, should scare me to death.

  But as I stare into Brody’s eyes, I know I have nothing to fear at all.

 
; “You’re right,” Brody says, reaching across the table for my hand and putting his over it. “Enough of that talk. Let’s celebrate.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  I eagerly flip open my menu, and everything sounds so fancy. I eagerly read the descriptions for the appetizers, and my eyes stop on oysters on the half shell.

  “Ooh, oysters and champagne,” I say aloud. “Sexy and decadent.”

  “Aren’t oysters an aphrodisiac?”

  I decide to flirt with him. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “This grown-ass man,” Brody says, picking up his champagne glass, “has no problem with that. If that is what the lady wants, of course. Does she?”

  Then he takes a sip and places it back on the table.

  Oh, the flirtation game is so on now.

  “I do, but only if you do. I said you could pick the appetizer, remember?”

  “I like your idea of the first course being sexy and decadent. It should be savored, don’t you think?”

  Oh, my God. If he can make appetizers sound orgasmic, I can’t imagine how scorching foreplay would be.

  I’m so going to have sex with him later tonight.

  I blink, shocked at my own thoughts.

  Sex?

  Yes, of course, we’re headed in that direction, but after a week? Is it weird that I feel emotionally connected enough to want this step so soon? I was always the girl who waited. High school boyfriend, waited for prom. College boyfriend, waited a month.

  Brody Jensen, one week?

  But as I look across the table at him, as he’s sitting here in a designer suit at a restaurant that makes him uncomfortable in order to treat me, I realize, yes, this is what I want. Then I remember my question from my book today.

  How does your partner make you feel loved?

  I know we’re in the process of falling, so I can’t say it’s love, but I can say, without a doubt, that this man cares for me in a way I’ve never been cared for before.

  And as I answer that question, I have my answer.

  I want to experience everything tonight.

  Including making love with Brody.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “This has been, without a doubt, the best meal of my life,” I declare, sighing happily as I put down my fork. “Did you know that Dover sole was a life-changing experience for Julia Child? She ate it in France and it transformed her perception of food. One delicious dish altered the direction of her life.”