by A. J. Pine
“God, Ivy, yes. So much it hurts.” And likely would hurt for a spell until his body caught up with his brain, but he’d survive. “But I don’t want to feel like we’re rushing only to get each other out of our systems.”
He reached for where she’d tossed his T-shirt on the bed and pulled it back on. For a brief second he wondered if she saw the scarred skin on his left side and simply ignored it or if she was too caught up in the moment to notice. There was also the scar on his right shoulder that had nothing to do with the accident, but she seemed to have missed that one, too. Or maybe it was all a part of their game—of pretending he wasn’t fully who he was. That was why he was pumping the brakes. Playing make-believe was fine while they figured out what this was, but he wanted their feelings to catch up with their actions. When and if he and Ivy slept together, he wanted the game to be over.
“I’m sorry,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and he hated that he’d made her feel self-conscious or guilty. “You’re right. I just got caught up, and I—”
He wrapped his hands around her wrists and gently pulled her arms back to her sides.
“You play softball, right?” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.
She nodded, and he dipped his head down to kiss one breast and then the other. She hummed softly, and he breathed in the scent of lavender and silently swore to himself. Ivy Serrano would eventually be his undoing, but tonight maybe they could simply be.
He straightened and grinned when he saw the smile spread across her face. “Well maybe no home run tonight, but I could hit a single or double.”
She burst out laughing, then grabbed his right hand and placed it on her left breast, his thumb swiping her raised peak. She sucked in a breath before regaining her composure.
“I think you’ve already made it to second,” she teased. “So what’s next?”
He sat down on the bed and patted his knee. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He kissed her and lowered her onto her back, his lips traveling to the line of her jaw, her neck, and the soft skin below. He savored each nibble and taste and watching her react to his touch.
“Who knows?” he asked. “If a good pitch comes along, I might hit a triple.”
She pressed her palm over the bulge in his jeans and gave him a soft squeeze.
“Only if my team can, too.”
He groaned as she squeezed again, then kissed her once more. “Fair is fair.”
“But no home runs,” she reaffirmed. “At least, not tonight.”
“I predict it’ll still be a good game.”
“Evening, Lieutenant,” she said, echoing her earlier greeting as he slipped a hand beneath the overalls that still hung at her hips. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”
He nipped her bottom lip. “Evening, Ms. Serrano. Best night I’ve had in a long time.”
And hopefully the first of many more to come.
Chapter Seven
Ivy pulled her cap over her eyes and stared at the batter, then glanced at Casey, who was pitching. Her friend gave her a subtle nod, which meant she was sending the ball right over the plate, which in turn would mean a line drive to Ivy, who was covering first base. If she caught the ball, it would be the third out and a win for the Midtown Sluggers. If she didn’t, the bases would be loaded, and a grand slam would sink them.
No pressure.
Not like this was the big leagues or anything, but the Main Street Loungers from Quincy—aptly named after the pub who sponsored them—were their biggest rival. The Loungers had creamed them the last time they played each other, and tonight the Sluggers were on their home turf.
Ivy breathed in the fresh scent of the ponderosa pines that rose in the distance. Even in the small residential park, you could see the tree-lined hills that gave Meadow Valley its name. It was more than her grief that had swallowed her up in Boston. It was the city itself. Beautiful as it was and steeped in history, Ivy had longed for the comfort of home—for the place where she and Charlie grew up, where she could feel closer to the brother she still missed.
She wasn’t expecting a new reason to solidify Meadow Valley as the place she was meant to be. But there was Carter Bowen, climbing into the bleachers. He said he would come as soon as his shift ended—his boring cubicle office job shift—and there he was. They’d been seeing if this thing between them was real for three full weeks now. She counted the week they avoided each other in there because she’d spent each day thinking about him and wishing they weren’t avoiding each other.
These days they were very much not avoiding each other. Whether it was at her house, his room at the inn, or the afternoon she found him waiting in her office after she closed the shop—he’d snuck back there while she was helping one last customer—they’d pretty much not avoided each other all over town.
She smiled at the thought. No one had hit any home runs yet, but they’d been enjoying the game nonetheless.
And now he was here, watching her play softball of all things, and all she could think about was how much brighter Meadow Valley seemed with him around. Others would say it had to do with the incessant sun and lack of rain, but not Ivy. She’d smiled more in the last three weeks than she had in the past two years, and the summer sun had nothing to do with it.
Oof! A burst of pain in her shoulder woke her from her stupor.
“Foul!” she heard the referee call.
She saw Carter bolt up from his seat and then sit back down, like his instinct was to go to her, and despite how much the impact had hurt, her stomach flip-flopped.
“Time out!” Casey called, and she jogged over to first base. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Ivy rolled her shoulder. It would need some ice, but she’d live. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Casey threw her hands in the air, which looked ridiculous, because one was covered by her glove and the other palmed a softball. “Then what the hell was that?” she whisper-shouted. “You could have caught that ball instead of acting as a shield for—I don’t know—any stray lightning bugs who might have been in its path.”
Ivy groaned. “I know. I’m sorry. I got distracted.”
Casey glanced toward the small set of bleachers and then back at Ivy.
“Dreamboat’s got you all bent out of shape, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“No,” Ivy said defensively. “I mean yes. I don’t know.”
Casey placed her glove on Ivy’s shoulder, the one that, thankfully, wasn’t throbbing.
“Look, you know there’s nothing I want more than to see you smile like you used to. But you know what he does for a living, right? You know where he disappears to every forty-eight hours.” Casey cut herself off before saying Charlie’s name. Everyone in town pretty much did the same. Unless Ivy got tipsy on apple pie liqueur and toasted her dead brother, everyone played the avoidance game, including herself.
She had lived in the thick of her grief for over a year in Boston with her parents, Charlie’s wife, and her niece, Alice. She wanted to leave that grief behind now that she was home and had a soon-to-be-thriving business.
Ivy cleared her throat. “You know how we pretend? Like you just did by not saying—by not saying his name. That’s what Carter and I do. As far as I’m concerned, he has a really boring job where he sits in a cubicle and crunches numbers.”
Casey’s blue eyes softened. “Oh, Ives. Be careful, okay? I like Carter a lot, but I don’t want you setting yourself up for heartbreak if you can’t handle what he really does.”
The ref alerted them that their time was up, and Ivy nodded.
“Let’s win this damn game, okay?” Casey asked. “Drinks are on me if we do.”
Ivy laughed. “I’ve never paid for a drink at Midtown in my entire life.”
Casey shrugged. “Fine. If we lose, I’m starting your first tab.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Casey said. “Or catch the d
amn ball next time, and you’ll won’t have to see whether or not I’m bluffing.” She adjusted her baseball cap and pivoted away, her assured strides carrying her back to the pitcher’s mound.
“Make me pay for drinks,” Ivy mumbled. “Yeah, right.” But when the batter readied himself for the next pitch, Ivy squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment and pushed everything out of her thoughts except one thing—the game.
When she opened her eyes, Casey was already winding up, so Ivy bent her knees, leaned toward the foul line, and held her mitt open and at the ready.
Again, Casey pitched the ball right over the plate, but this time the batter didn’t foul. This time it was a line drive inside first. She barely had time to think before she dove over the plate, arm outstretched. The ball hit her hand hard, and she rolled to the ground, tucking it close to her chest. Nervous as hell to look, she sprang to her knees and glanced down. There it was, the softball that was now the game-ending catch.
She jumped to her feet and held the ball high in the air amid cheers from her team.
“Free drinks for life!” she exclaimed, and Casey barreled toward her, embracing her in a victory hug.
Over her friend’s shoulders she saw the small gaggle of Midtown Sluggers supporters cheering in the stands, and among them a gorgeous firefighter cowboy who was striding onto the field with fierce determination.
She pulled out of her friend’s embrace, and the two of them stared Carter down.
“I think you’re about to get kissed,” Casey said with a grin.
“Hell yes, I am.”
Ivy jogged toward him, giddy, and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Hell of a catch, Serrano,” he said, his deep voice only loud enough for her to hear. And then he kissed her.
“I know,” she said when they broke apart. “All I needed was to get the distractions out of my head.”
He tilted his head back, and she saw his brows draw together.
“Distractions?” he asked.
She felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I know you said you were coming as soon as your shift ended, but it was the bottom of the seventh, and I figured your shift ran late, and—I don’t know. I was really excited to see you. Guess I lost my train of thought.”
He lowered her to the ground, then planted a kiss on her left shoulder.
She winced. “There’s gonna be one hell of a bruise there by the end of the night.”
He nodded. “Come home with me tonight, and I can help you ice it.”
She grinned and slid her arms around his waist. “I think that can be arranged. Though I want to know when you’re going to stop calling Pearl’s inn home and find a more permanent residence.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You afraid I’m going somewhere?”
Every time you’re on a twenty-four-hour shift. Because as much as they pretended out loud, she never really forgot what he did. The only safety was in reminding herself that in her quiet little town, nothing much ever happened. The fire in her shop was the most Meadow Valley had seen in years, and she’d taken care of it with ease. So she convinced herself that it’d be at least a couple years more before something else happened, and other than responding to the station’s paramedic services, Carter would be safe.
“Are you?” she finally asked. “Going somewhere?”
He shook his head. “Hope not. But the chief wants to make sure he made the right decision. Fire department is a close-knit team, but most of them are warming up to me. Barring any disasters in the next week, I should be ready to start looking for a real place to call home.”
She rolled her eyes. “You make Meadow Valley sound so unwelcoming.”
He laughed. “I didn’t say the town, just the firehouse. When you’re working in a life-and-death profession, trust is the most important thing and—”
He stopped short, likely noticing her wide eyes and maybe the fact she was holding her breath.
“Shoot,” he said. “Ivy, it’s just a figure of speech. You know every day I’ve been on duty has truly been about as boring as a cubicle job.”
She bit her lip and nodded. Meadow Valley was safe. He was safe. But how long could she keep pretending that the potential for danger wasn’t there? How long could she pretend that she wasn’t afraid?
“Are you breathing?” he asked, brows raised.
She shook her head. Then she let out a breath.
They weren’t going to have this conversation now. Not when things were going so well. Not when she couldn’t imagine not kissing him again tonight or waking up in his arms tomorrow morning.
“Come on,” she said, forcing a smile. “Drinks are on Casey.”
They didn’t last long at the tavern, even when the celebration moved outside to the tavern’s back alley, where Casey’s dad had set up a good old-fashioned charcoal barbecue and was grilling burgers and dogs. Not when Ivy knew she could be with Carter in his room. Just the two of them. First, though, they made a quick stop at the inn’s kitchen, where Pearl was still cleaning up the remnants of the small restaurant’s dinner service.
“Well this is a surprise,” she said as Ivy and Carter slipped through the door. She opened her arms—and strode straight for Ivy.
“I heard you won the game!” she said.
Carter laughed. “Even with my own flesh and blood I’m still not the favorite around here.”
Pearl gave Ivy another squeeze before releasing her. She waved Carter off.
“As soon as I can shout from the rooftop that my grandnephew is the best lieutenant Meadow Valley could ask for, then you’ll see some favoritism. Until then it goes to your girl, here.”
Your girl. Ivy and Carter spending time together was no secret, but that was the first time anyone had verbalized them as a couple. And Ivy liked the sound of it even more than she’d anticipated.
Carter kissed his great-aunt on the cheek.
“In that case, can we get our star first base player a bag of ice? She took a pretty rough foul ball to the shoulder.”
Ivy pulled her T-shirt sleeve over her shoulder, and Pearl gasped when she saw the half-moon purple that had already reared its ugly head.
“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
She grabbed a box of gallon-size plastic bags from a shelf over the sink and handed one of the bags to Carter. He headed toward the small ice machine that was next to the combination refrigerator-and-freezer and filled the bag.
“He knows better than I do how to ice a shoulder,” Pearl told Ivy. “Did you know he was primed to be the starting quarterback his junior year of high school?”
Ivy’s eyes widened as Carter finished at the ice machine and turned to look at her.
He smiled and shrugged, but both movements seemed forced. “Shoulder surgery saw to it that that never happened.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Turns out a summer of football camp trying to prove myself to the coach combined with my dad putting me on tire changing duty at the shop was the perfect combination for a pretty bad tear in the rotator cuff.”
He zipped the bag of ice shut and kissed his aunt again. “Need any help finishing up in here?”
She patted him on the cheek. “You kids head on up. I’m good here. Just need to take out the trash.” She nodded toward a door that was propped open into the back alley. “And I’m sorry, sweetheart, if I brought up old wounds.”
He shook his head. “You never have to apologize for anything. You’re my lifeline, Aunt Pearl. If it weren’t for you, I’d have never gotten out of Houston.”
“Someday you and your daddy will see eye to eye without expectations or disappointment getting in the way.” She sighed. “Now go on before I do put you two to work.”
She smiled at them both, then busied herself with rolling a trash can toward the kitchen’s back door as if they were never there.
Carter turned to Ivy and raised his brows. “Let’s go take care of you.”
Chapter Eight
; Whoops. When he’d left for his shift yesterday evening, he hadn’t bothered to make the bed. Or clean up the clothes strewn over the desk chair. Or hide the pile of leadership manuals he’d been poring over, since he’d had another setback with Shane earlier in the week, and of course Ivy gravitated straight to where they were spread out across the top of the desk.
“Sorry for the mess,” he said. “But I made Pearl promise no inn employee would waste any time on my room when I get to live here rent free. I’m just not the best at keeping up with it myself.”
She didn’t respond, undeterred as she strode toward her destination.
“How to Make Friends and Influence People? The Coaching Habit?” She closed one book that he’d left open to the last page he’d read. Then she covered her mouth but was unable to stifle her laugh. “The Leadership Secrets of Santa Claus?”
He grabbed the book and held it protectively to his chest. “Hey. Don’t knock it until you try it. Santa leads one of the biggest teams out there. He’s gotta have some good secrets.”
He tossed the book back down, set the bag of ice on the nightstand, then quickly neatened the bed and propped the pillows up so she’d be comfortable.
“Come here.” He patted the bed, then readied the ice pack in his hands.
She glanced down at herself and tried brushing away the infield dirt from the right side of her body. “I’m filthy,” she said. “I don’t want to get dirt all over your bed. Got a T-shirt I can borrow?”
He moved to the dresser and opened a drawer. Then he tossed her a gray T that had HOUSTON ASTROS emblazoned on the chest in navy blue letters outlined in orange.
She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t wear this in public, you know. And neither should you.”
He laughed. “Lucky for you, I’m not planning on us leaving this room tonight. Are you?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” Then she sauntered with the balled-up shirt into the bathroom. “Just need a few minutes to freshen up, Lieutenant. Maybe you can read some more about Santa’s leadership secrets while you wait.”
