by Lyssa Layne
I lean against the wall and slide to the floor. This has got to stop. I can’t think of Grant Adamson in that way. It’s been longer than I’d like to admit since I’ve been with a man and it’s never bothered me before. Suddenly though, I can’t get it out of my mind and if Grant keeps looking at me the way he is, I’m going to be in trouble. Neither of us need the distraction. After tonight, I’ll keep my distance at the hotel and I’m sure these feelings will go away… right?
***
We scurry through the airport terminal, partly because we’re running late, but mainly because the guys don’t want to get noticed. Grant guides me through the crowd, keeping me close to him while Benny shields me on the opposite side. We get to the gate and find a few secluded chairs to sit down.
I look at two of the highest paid pitchers in MLB and comment, “I’m pretty sure you two are the famous ones that need protecting, not me.”
Benny chuckles and responds, “Yeah, yeah, Colie. You know ‘ole Grant is always looking for an excuse to keep you close.”
Grant gives him a look that could kill and Benny holds up his palms proclaiming his innocence. I playfully swat Benny in the arm, giving him the nicer version of Grant’s stink eye.
Needing more caffeine, I walk to the Starbucks stand and order a double shot of espresso. Mmm, it tastes so delicious as it slides down my throat and wakes me up. I feel a tug on my sweater and turn around. When I look down, it’s a little boy, maybe five-years-old. He speaks so softly that I can barely hear him. I squat to be on his level, which is not an easy task in skinny jeans and heels. After I ask him to repeat himself, I hear him say, “Is that really Grant Adamson and Benny Martinez?”
I glance over his shoulder at his anxious parents and give them a soft smile, letting them know it’s okay. Then I look back at him and nod. “It is. Would you like to meet them?”
His face lights up and a grin spreads over it. I take his hand and we walk toward my travel buddies. His little hand is sweaty as he grips mine tightly. I wave at his parents to follow us so they can get a picture. Benny loves meeting fans. Grant, on the other hand, despises it. Despite being a famous pitcher, he prefers to stay out of the spotlight. Since we’ve started hanging out, he’s gotten better about autographs and younger fans though, so it’s a start.
I tap the men on their shoulders and they turn around. Grant looks down at me then notices the boy and scowls. I take Grant’s hand in mine and give it a tight squeeze, a warning for him to be nice.
Benny, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat. He’s all smiles and high-fives as he chats with the boy and his parents. Grant doesn’t let go of my hand, messing with the charms on my bracelet like he normally does when he’s nervous or not comfortable in a situation. I look up at him and whisper, “Say hello, take a picture, it won’t hurt you.”
The boy turns to Grant, fear in his eyes as he stares up at the giant of a man before him. I squeeze Grant’s hand again and he lets out a small sigh as he bends down to talk to the kid. I watch them interact and see Grant relaxing as the boy rattles off all of Grant’s stats from last season.
“So you want to a pitcher?”
The little boy nods.
Grant takes the boy’s arm and shows him different positions to throw various pitches. I smile at the two of them when the boy’s mom says, “Thank you for letting us come talk to you.”
I shake my head. “No problem at all. I know the guys don’t mind.”
“I have to ask, what’s your name? I assume you’re Mr. Adamson’s girlfriend. We see you with him in all the magazines.”
I freeze as she says this. How could anyone recognize me in those horrible photos? But if she did, and she doesn’t even know me, then could Jace too? No, he probably never reads those things. I know Grant and Benny never do. Besides, why am I am thinking about what Jace thinks? He probably doesn’t even remember me.
I’m about to answer when a voice comes over the intercom letting us know it’s time to board the plane. The little boy high-fives Grant and Benny after his mom snaps a few pictures and thanks them. Grant picks up my carry-on and with his hand on my back, guides me to the walkway to the plane. After the gate attendant scans our tickets, we settle in our seats in first class.
“Well done, Mr. Adamson.”
Grant raises that damned sexy scarred eyebrow.
“With the kid. See, it didn’t kill you to be nice and interact with a fan, did it?”
Grant sighs. “No, it didn’t. But you know I like my privacy, especially when I’m traveling, because now they might try to follow us when we land.”
I realize now is not the time to mention the mom’s comment so instead I roll my eyes. “You are so paranoid! What happened to you?”
“Nicole Adger, roll your eyes one too many times and they’ll get stuck that way.”
I start to do it again and stop. I let out a long yawn instead. Grant lifts the arm rest between us and puts his arm around me. I start to move away, thinking about the mom’s comment, but he pulls me against his chest.
“Get some rest, Colie. It’s going to be a long six weeks.”
Forgetting about the lady’s claims that I’m his girlfriend, and with sleep invading my brain, I snuggle up to Grant Adamson and close my eyes as we soar to thirty-five thousand feet.
***
“Here you go, Ms. Adger. You’ll be in room 407. Do you need an extra key?” the hotel clerk asks, eyeing Grant, who stands dangerously close. He’s not paying attention to the clerk as he checks out the surroundings, probably trying to determine the nearest fire escape.
I shake my head no and thank her. Grant picks up my suitcase and gestures with his arm for me to lead the way. I notice a group of people about my age in the lobby, two families, and a couple other minor league baseball players. They all stare at us, but he doesn’t seem to notice. We get to the elevator and I turn to him. “I can take it from here.”
Grant furrows his eyebrows, looking at me questioningly. “It’s fine, Cole. I want to make sure you get situated.”
I sigh and point to the lobby. “Did you not see everyone eyeing us with their iPhones out? Mister-I-Like-My-Privacy is now caught on camera heading into a hotel with a woman, which is probably not what you want.”
He chuckles as he steps into the elevator. His deep, hearty laugh sends my heart fluttering even though I try to will it to stop.
“I could think of worse women I could be photographed with.”
“Hey!” I laugh with him as I swat his arm.
We find our way to room 407 and I let us in. It’s nothing fancy: two double beds, a shower, mini fridge, paintings of flowers over each bed. The potpourri scent is a little overpowering, but I can ignore it. This is my home for the next six weeks. Grant does not look pleased with the situation.
“What?”
“Colie, it’s…”
I force a smile. “Cozy, almost homey if you will.”
He frowns and I let out a soft laugh. I look out the window to check out the view… of the dumpsters. Hopefully work will keep me busy and I won’t have to spend too much time here. Grant stands behind me, looking over me to see the view for himself. He puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Seriously, Colie, you can stay with me. I have a kitchen, cable, we can run on the beach.”
About that time, we hear someone run down the hallway followed by shrieks of laughter and angry parents shouting. He squeezes my shoulders. “And it’ll be a lot quieter.”
I turn around and look up at him. My heart skips as I look into his eyes. He runs a finger down my cheek and lifts my chin to him. “Colie, come stay with me…” he says softly.
Heat is radiating from where his finger touches my skin, traveling quickly to my lower belly. This has got to stop, right here, right now. I’m about to open my mouth to say something when he trails his thumb over my pouty bottom lip. My mouth goes dry and I try hard to swallow. He’s leaning down to me and I close my eyes. I wait for his lips to touch mine whe
n there’s a loud knock on the door followed by giggles. I open my eyes and see Grant clenching his jaw at the interruption.
I quickly step around him and move to my suitcase, unzipping it. Shirts, shorts, panties. I pull it out and stuff it into drawers while Grant scowls in the corner. He sits on the edge of the other bed. I grab a pink maxi dress and head to the bathroom to change. I shed my winter clothes, happy to be out of them and my heels. I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder what I’m doing with Grant Adamson in my hotel room. I will not let myself fall for him. The last time I fell for a baseball player, I got my heart broken and I still don’t think it’s healed. I take a deep breath as I pull on my summer outfit and quickly braid my hair. Be strong, Colie, don’t lose focus, I tell myself as I walk out of the bathroom.
Grant looks up, and just like this morning, his eyes slide over me from top to bottom. He stands up and walks to me but I put my arm out to keep our distance.
“Grant…”
My cheeks are tinting red and with my arm touching his chest, I can’t think clearly. He pushes my arm down and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “Let’s go,” he says and steps around me opening the door.
We’re greeted by people standing in the hallway snapping our picture. Grant tucks me against him and pushes our way through the crowd of people shouting his name. As we rush through the mob, I feel completely safe and secure with Grant by my side. I’m not sure I could face this without him. Is this how it’s going to be every day while I stay here, or only when Grant’s with me? When we get to the elevator and the doors close with only us inside, he looks at me and says, “You’re staying at the condo.”
CHAPTER 6
“Aces pitcher Grant Adamson is seen leaving the hotel room of his trainer, Nicole Adger. Rumors suggest the two have been dating since the end of last season. Critics are concerned if her appearance on the field will interrupt Adamson’s concentration and ruin his chances of starting this season,” Meg reads to me over the phone.
I’m staring at the exact same article in the Post, accompanied by a picture of Grant ushering me through the crowd outside the hotel room that I stayed in for approximately two hours. Falling back on the bed, I groan. “Meg, what am I going to do? Do you think Michael will send me home? Home… I don’t even have a home—”
Meg cuts me off. “Colie, stop! It’s only been a week. Grant and Benny are both doing well according to what Mark’s told me, and you know you’re welcome to stay with us if your apartment isn’t ready when you come back.”
My nerves start to settle. My sister always knows exactly what to say to calm me down. Kicking off my shoes, I pull my tank top over my head and toss it on the floor. We just got back from running on the beach and I have to admit it’s much better than running on the treadmill back in New York. I could get used to Florida living.
“Thanks, Meg. Tell Mark I can get tickets to one of the games if you want to come down.”
I hear her put her hand over the phone as she talks to Mark. I laugh when I hear Mark cheering in the background.
“I take that as a yes?”
“Definitely a yes. I’ll book our flights and send you the details. So… have you seen Jace yet?”
Looking out my window at the beach view in front of me, I sigh. “Not yet, I doubt I will until we play them. Maybe I’ll be sick that day.”
“Nicole Elaine Adger, don’t you even think about it. You put on your big girl panties and face that jerk. Be sure to dress extra sexy so he can see what he missed out on.”
Yeah, extra sexy in my Aces shirt and khaki shorts. Laughing at my sister, I hear a knock on the door which opens before I answer. Grant stands there in a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt. My heart begins to palpitate faster than I thought it could move, not because I’m also shirtless, he’s seen me in my sports bra on more than one occasion. No, because for some reason, seeing him standing here, this close to my bed, is totally different than when we’re huffing and puffing at the gym.
He sees I’m on the phone and mouths ‘sorry’ while he backs out of the room. I hold my hand up to let him know it’s okay as I say a quick goodbye to my sister. I toss the phone on the bed.
“What’s up?” I ask, as I try to calm my rapid heart rate.
“I… I wanted to know if you wanted eggs for breakfast,” he stutters, which brings a smile to my face. Ah, so I’m not the only one who is agitated at the sight of the opposite sex shirtless.
“That’d be great. I’m going to hop in the shower, then I’ll be ready.”
Grant nods but doesn’t turn to leave. I study his well-defined jawline, his full lips, his steely grey eyes… that are roaming my body. Our eyes meet and he quickly looks away, closing the door behind him.
As I shampoo my hair, I think over the last week. The days have been long and the hot, Florida sun has made my pale skin crispy. The rookies have no idea how to take care of themselves. The past two days, I’ve popped more shoulders into place and stretched more hamstrings than I can count. My body is probably more sore than most of the ball players from all the manhandling I’ve been doing, literally. But I don’t dare complain to anyone. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m showing signs of weakness.
I tilt my head back, letting the water rinse the soap out of my hair. I close my eyes and my mind drifts to Grant. I don’t know if my hormones are on high alert or what, but I can’t get him out of my mind. He’s invading my dreams of Jace, which is probably a good thing. No! It’s not a good thing, not a good thing at all. Grant and I will never be romantically connected, despite his good looks and sweet gestures. I do not date baseball players, especially ones I work with. Turning the water off, I repeat the mantra, trying to convince myself.
A few minutes later, I walk into the kitchen, wearing a fitted Aces t-shirt and a pair of black yoga pants, my still-damp hair hanging down my back. As soon as I slide into a seat at the breakfast bar, Grant sets a cup of coffee in front of me. My moan shows my appreciation as I take a sip, and I see Grant give a soft smile. Much to my disappointment, he’s put a shirt on. Still, he looks mighty sexy as he cooks breakfast. I almost moan again, but this time, not from the coffee.
“Hope you like them scrambled, it’s the only way I know how to make them,” Grant says, setting the plate in front of me.
I take a big bite and nod, speaking with my mouth full. “These are great.”
I catch his pleased smile that he quickly hides. I point to the paper on the counter where our picture is front and center. “Did you read that?”
He’s leaning against the counter as he eats from the plate in his hands. “Read what?”
I roll my eyes.
“Colie Adger, what have I told you about eye rolling?”
Ugh! This man knows how to drive me nuts… in more ways than one. Neither of us speaking, we finish our breakfast in silence. I walk to the sink and rinse my plate off. Turning to him, I apologize, “Look, I’m sorry about that. I know you like your privacy and I don’t want to hurt your chances—”
“Colie, you’re not hurting my chances. Don’t ever think that, okay?”
I look into his face, surprised by his answer. His eyes soften ever so slightly as he looks at the article, then to me. He leans around me, setting his plate in the sink, and then places his hands on my hips. Oh God, I can’t think! I’m just praying that he can’t hear my heart beating because that’s all I can hear right now.
He looks down into my eyes and I look away. One hand tightens on my hip, the other moves under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. He brushes my hair over my ear. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t worked with me last season. You’re not a distraction. In fact, when I’m on the mound, knowing you’re in the dugout gives me a sense of peace.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. My mind is on overload as I try to analyze every aspect of what he’s saying. His fingers move under my chin and I look up at him. He gives me his drop-dead gorgeous smile that rarely is seen. My hands find th
e counter behind me and I grasp it, hoping to steady my shaking body.
He’s about to open his mouth again when both of our phones beep with an incoming message. I slip around him and grab my phone. It’s a text from Benny: Dinner and drinks at Diego’s tonight. Be there at 8.
“Guess we have plans tonight,” I say and turn to see Grant running his hand through his hair while he reads the message himself. He mutters, “Yeah,” and walks out of the room.
***
Half past eight and Benny’s flirting with the waitress, speaking in Spanish, as the three of us each enjoy a glass of wine at Diego’s. They’re home to the best Spanish food in Port St. Lucie, and known for their wood-fired lamb. Benny’s been telling us about it ever since we arrived in Florida.
Grant smirks as he watches the waitress bat her eyes at Benny and he kisses her hand. As we both observe the courting in front of us, I’m surprised when I feel Grant’s fingers trail over my arm and roll one of my charms between his thumb and forefinger. Watching Grant play with the bracelet, I sigh. We’re getting way too comfortable with each other. I guess I’m going to have to woman up and talk to him about our relationship… which was what? Nothing’s happened… yet. Do I want something to happen? Ugh, I don’t know!
Grant’s fingers stop and he looks at me. “What’s wrong, Colie?”
How does he do that? He always knows what I’m thinking! I shake my head and mutter, “Nothing.” I’m trying to force a smile when I stiffen at the sight over Grant’s shoulder. He turns his head to see where I’m looking, but by the time he turns back to me, I’ve already excused myself from the table.
Standing outside the bathroom, my hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold my phone, much less text Meg. I glance back at the table and see my two dates talking to him. Jace Richards. Deep breaths, Colie, deep breaths. What the hell is Jace doing in Port St. Lucie? His team is located in Viera, over an hour away. He and Grant both glance around the room as Benny chats, oblivious to their actions.
I look down and notice I actually have cleavage tonight with the way the sweetheart neckline and bustier-style seaming fits. Smoothing my fire engine red fit-and-flare dress, I wish I’d worn something that didn’t draw so much attention to myself.
