Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2)

by Rachel Higginson

  It shouldn’t have made me feel like everything was about to change.

  Like I would never be the same again.

  Like this was some cataclysmic crashing of planets and worlds and souls. Like Beckett was more than a boy that wanted to make out with me. Like this was more than a second date.

  Like I was more than just a girl trying to get through life without having her heart broken.

  But it did.

  There was something in his look, in the depth of his gaze…there was just something about him.

  He drew me to him, pulling me in with his looks and attention and all that magic.

  But it was more than that.

  And it was more than warm feelings I felt for him.

  There were nerves too. And fear. And absolute panic.

  I felt like jumping up from the table and sprinting from the room, knocking over tables and chairs and waiters in my frenzy, uncaring of the scene I would make or the confusion I’d leave behind with Beckett. I wanted to get out of here.

  I had to get out of here.

  My fingers gripped the edge of the table, and I knew I was about to act out my hysterical fantasy.

  Until his low, smooth voice anchored me in place. “Stay, Britte,” he ordered. “I don’t know what spooked you, but stay.” I licked dry lips and formed an apology in my head. Then he shattered whatever hope of resistance I’d managed to build when he whispered, “Please?”

  All I could do was nod in defeat, felled by just that one simple word. How could he do that? How could he capture me so easily?

  Where were my principles?

  My independent strongholds?

  My liberated feminism?

  I uncurled my fingers from the table and dropped them to my lap. “Sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say but feeling like I needed to break the tension I’d created.

  “I don’t need you to be sorry,” he murmured. “I just need you to stay.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Beckett

  She looked frightened across the table. I didn’t even know what to think about it. I tried to figure out if it was something I had said or done, but as I mentally flipped back through everything that had happened in our short time together, I couldn’t put my finger on anything blatantly stupid.

  I thought about asking her if she was okay, but I sensed danger. Whatever spooked her had happened in her head. I didn’t want to keep her there.

  “I’m coaching.” The words fell out of my mouth. I had prepared this whole speech on how I was going to tell her what I’d decided and how I’d carefully come to that decision. I had planned to sound like a grown up, damn it.

  Instead, this happened.

  But it worked. She narrowed her eyes at me in confusion. “You’re what?”

  “Coaching,” I repeated. “It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’m cutting my internship hours by a ton, and I can barely keep up with grad school, the internship, and the coaching gig. The season hasn’t even started yet. I don’t know what I’m going to do come spring.”

  “Wait, Beckett, back up. You’re coaching where?”

  “Here.” When she looked around at the sushi restaurant, I realized I sounded like an idiot. “I mean, in La Crosse. At school. Coach asked me to be one of the assistants. Right now I’m more of an assistant to the assistants, but eventually, I’ll have more responsibilities.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “You’re coaching your team? Beckett, that’s huge.”

  I shrugged. “The offer was completely out of the blue.”

  “But welcome, right? You’re excited?”

  I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. “I don’t know what I feel.” I was surprised with my honesty. I hadn’t meant to say that either. Damn. Britte was like truth serum.

  She laughed, but it was gentle. “Well, what do your parents think?”

  I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat. “I don’t know. I haven’t told them.”

  “Oh.”

  I shook my head and prepared myself for more truth. “I told them I was done with baseball. I promised them I would move on. Get a real job. Be an adult and do adult things.”

  “And you don’t think coaching is that?”

  Her perceptive gaze made me want to fidget, but I held still. “I don’t know what it is.”

  “Are they paying you?”

  Her question surprised me, and I laughed, despite the way my insides were twisting around each other. “Yeah, of course. It’s a job.”

  “Well, is your internship paying you?”

  I chuckled, “No. No, it’s not. Well, not for the first six months anyway.”

  “Okay, see? What’s more grown up? A job that pays you? Or a job that doesn’t?”

  I saw her point, but I wasn’t sure it would hold much ground with my family. “That’s not the point. It’s all about the future possibilities. The internship could eventually pay me a ton of money. You need to think long term.”

  Her pretty lips pressed into a frown. “So what about you? Are you thinking long term?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure what I’m thinking.”

  She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Liar.”

  “Liar?” I shook my head at her, surprised by her response yet again.

  “You know what you’re thinking. You might not want to share it with me, but you know what you’re doing.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, not liking that she’d picked apart my defense so quickly. “I want to coach,” I confessed, even more surprised that I felt the words so deeply. “Okay? I want to. There’s not much other thought than that. I promised my family I would give up the game, but I don’t want to. And I figure coaching for a legit team is better than trying to struggle my way up through the minors. At least I get to be involved on my terms.”

  Her frown became less…accusatory. “And the internship?”

  I laughed, but it lacked my usual sense of humor. “You’re going to make me say it?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Damn straight.”

  “I don’t want it. That’s Lennox’s life, not mine. Or at least not yet. I’m not ready to hang up my cleats for loafers. The thought of spending the rest of my life in that cubicle depresses me. I know there’s more to it than that. Lennox travels all over. Lennox doesn’t work in a cubicle; he has a nice office with a view. He has paychecks he can be proud of and a stable life. But none of that excites me. None of that makes my blood thrum or my pulse pound like baseball. None of it makes me want to get out of bed in the morning. Or ever.”

  Her face had gentled until she was nothing but soft angles and open features. I wanted to pull her across the table or better yet, drag her from the restaurant and back to my place.

  “So what does make your blood thrum and your pulse pound?” Her voice had dropped low and breathless. I didn’t think she was purposefully trying to be sexy as hell.

  But…damn.

  You, I thought. But I couldn’t say that. At least not yet. Not while we were talking about my future and it was the first time I felt right about it…the first time guilt hadn’t piled up like cement blocks around my feet.

  “Baseball.” I ran a hand through my hair and then regretted it instantly when product stuck to the tips of my fingers. “Baseball has always been the thing I’ve lived my life for. And then suddenly, it wasn’t. So, for the first time since my last game, I feel like I’ve found the thing that’s been missing for me and I…I can’t imagine letting it go again. I need it, Britte. Like I need air and beer and sex.”

  She laughed, and I took a deep breath, enjoying this strange connection I hadn’t expected to form over sushi.

  “And you’re okay with just coaching? Is it the same thing even though you’re not playing?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, strangely it is. What’s funny is that I never considered coaching. Not once. But then, I don’t know. It was like Coach gave me something I didn’t even know I nee
ded. And now that I have it? I can’t let it go. I mean, I’ve only been doing it a week, but it’s so right. I can’t even tell you. It’s like, maybe I played baseball all those years just so I could get to this point in my life and coach.” I looked up at her, embarrassed by my rambling. “I’m not even sure that makes sense. But it’s true. It’s like my entire life has been leading up to just this one thing.”

  Her smile made my heart pinch in my chest. I didn’t know what it meant or if it was good or bad. It was two parts sad and one part amused.

  Her gaze held mine when she said, “That makes perfect sense.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person that’s going to think that.”

  “Not true,” she immediately argued. “Ellie will be on your side with this one.”

  My little sister that threw her middle finger up at anything that didn’t agree with her would most certainly be on my side. But it wouldn’t matter. I would never say it out loud, but Ellie’s opinion didn’t really hold much ground around the Harris household. At least, not when it came to matters like this.

  Ellie got to do whatever she wanted to do because she was the spoiled rotten baby of the family. My parents would have let her quit society altogether and move out to a treehouse in the middle of the woods living buck naked with the raccoons for the rest of her life. And they would have thought it was adorable the entire time. Aw, Ellie, our little troublemaker.

  It was less cute when I did stuff that went against their expectations of me.

  I had two successful brothers to live up to. I had a legacy to build and a last name to carry on.

  Beckett Harris, assistant coach, sounded severely less brag-worthy than Beckett Harris, marketing guru.

  Or Beckett Harris, CFO.

  Britte leaned back in her chair again. “So are you going to let other people’s opinions of you dictate your life? Or are you going to do what it takes to get where you want to be? Where you know you belong?”

  Again she’d surprised me. The girl was just full of surprises. She might as well have been a jack-in-the-box. I felt like I kept cranking the handle, and she kept popping out of the box to scare the shit out of me.

  I should stop turning that damn handle, but it was like I was addicted or something.

  I just couldn’t help myself.

  Before I could answer her aggressive question, the food came. The waitress set down big plates in front of us and a few smaller ones. It looked like a ton of food, which I was thankful for.

  It also looked like I’d been right. Britte knew how to order sushi.

  I decided to keep this girl dating me until we’d at least been to a few more of my favorite restaurants. This was a skill I needed to learn. And I liked the idea of her teaching me how to do it.

  The waitress went over everything we’d ordered, pointing out which roll was which. Then disappeared to bring us waters.

  I met Britte’s amused gaze across the table. “What did she say?”

  She pointed her finger at me, “I knew you weren’t listening!”

  We laughed, but she graciously went over everything again, explaining what was in each roll. Then we dug in.

  The conversation never returned to me or my future or my job, but we laughed at my failed attempts at chopsticks and seeing who could eat the biggest bite of ginger without making a face.

  By the end of the meal, I was satisfied in more ways than just food. There was something about talking to this girl that made me feel like a superhero. I loved making her laugh. I loved the pinch between her eyebrows whenever she had to think about something. I loved the way her nose would wrinkle when she laughed or didn’t like something or felt embarrassed.

  I loved the way she ate, for God’s sake. She could pick up sushi like a pro, and there was something so goddamn sexy about her that even eating a meal with her felt like foreplay.

  I offered to order dessert, but she swore she was stuffed. And since I was overly full I didn’t push her. I paid the check, and we headed out to the car.

  “What should we do next?” I asked as I opened her door.

  “What’s on the agenda?” she countered.

  “Pretty sure we need to go get another drink.” I waited for her to turn me down and tell me she had school in the morning. It would have been the smart thing to do.

  The responsible thing.

  I shouldn’t have even offered. I had a busy week ahead of me too. But I had never been known for my maturity, so I left it up to her.

  She brushed by me, walking intentionally close and letting her body press against mine for the briefest second. “Pretty sure we need to get another drink too.”

  I shut her in the car and hurried to my door, afraid she would change her mind. She didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief and drove her to one of my favorite places. A little dive bar with a good beer list and free popcorn.

  Sure, we were stuffed. But there was always room for popcorn.

  Leading her inside, I waited for her reaction. Britte had been the food expert so far, and although this place didn’t serve food, her opinion was important to me.

  I had no idea why.

  It wasn’t like I planned on forcing her back here if she hated this place. But at the same time, it was my favorite…

  I wanted her to not hate it.

  The small bar didn’t bother with ambiance. The lights stayed dim, a game always on the TV in the corner of the bar, overpowered whatever background music hummed through the air. The draft selection was one of the bigger ones in town, but you had to sit on worn stools with the stuffing showing and uneven legs.

  The popcorn popper along the back wall was probably the crowning jewel of the whole place. But despite its flaws and lackluster, the bar was kept clean and comfortable, and they always turned the station to the game I wanted to watch.

  She didn’t say anything as we took our seats on two stools I was fairly confident wouldn’t break once we put our weight on them. The place was pretty empty on a Sunday night. I recognized a few of the regulars situated around the scuffed bar, but the rest of the tables sat empty.

  Britte reached for the draft list and read through it.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” I whispered to her.

  She didn’t look at me, but I watched her lips lift in a smile. She shook her head. “No.”

  “We can go someplace else if you want.”

  “I don’t want,” she said firmly.

  “Seriously—”

  “Beckett,” she growled, and I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Stop. They have New Glarus on tap. I’m good.”

  Could this girl hide any more surprises? “You like beer?”

  She swiveled on her stool to face me; her hand landed on my thigh and for a few seconds, my mind went completely blank. I swallowed through a suddenly thirsty throat and willed her words to make sense.

  “Gross, plain beer? No. I don’t like that. But super fruity, sour beers? Yes, please. New Glarus is one of my faves. And this place doesn’t make me uncomfortable. On the contrary, I like it’s…character. It reminds me of my dad.”

  I looked at her. Like really looked at her. God, she was gorgeous, but there was more this time. It was like there were layers of her beauty. I hadn’t noticed at first. I’d only seen her tight body and need to finish what we started. But she kept revealing more of herself as we got to know each other. And there was always more to see, more to know.

  She was pretty on the outside, yes, but she was a goddamn bombshell on the inside.

  I liked the way she knew her way around a menu and wasn’t afraid to order food. I liked her work ethic and how hard she tried at school. I liked her sense of humor—that snarky, sassy side of her that bit back. I liked that she didn’t take shit from anybody.

  Least of all me.

  And now she liked beer. Sure, we wouldn’t be throwing back MGD during the Series, but she could hang with me at my preferred dive and not check her phone every five seconds, wondering when we were going t
o leave.

  Realizing she was staring at me, waiting for me to say something, I asked the first thing that came to my mind, “Your dad?”

  Her gaze moved around the small space, “Yeah, you know, it’s kind of old and gruff around the edges, but there’s substance inside. You walk in and immediately feel chill, like this place won’t judge you for what you’re wearing or what you’re drinking or what you’re going to talk about.”

  “So that’s what your dad is like? Comfortable but gruff around the edges? Non-judgy?”

  She smiled, and it was all I could do to keep from kissing her just so I could taste that expression on her lips. It was so soft, the softest I’d ever seen her. Filled with some deep affection, only her dad would ever get from her. And so goddamn beautiful.

  “Yeah, that’s my dad. That’s him exactly.”

  “And your mom? Is she like that too?”

  The softness in her expression died instantly, and I knew I’d asked the wrong question. Her eyes turned to ice, and she immediately pulled back, physically and emotionally. “I have no idea what my mom’s like,” she admitted shortly. “She left when I was a kid. I haven’t seen her since.”

  Well, that explained why she loved her dad so much. But holy shit, I was an idiot. “Sorry,” I said immediately. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “To assume everyone’s parents love each other as much as yours?”

  I sat back now too, afraid I’d get frostbite from the frigidness in her tone. I had no idea how to respond to that. She’d been irritated with me before, but never irate. Never like this.

  Finally, when it didn’t seem as though she’d apologize, I shrugged and said, “Ellie never said anything. I didn’t know.”

  She looked down at her hands, and I finally saw some form of remorse when her cheeks heated with a pretty blush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out on you. She called my dad recently. She wants to see me. I don’t know what to do about her. I haven’t seen or heard from her in thirteen years. I’m kind of hoping she will just go away.”