Slam: A Colorado Smoke Novel

by Andee Michelle

  “Great. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “How about you give me your number and I’ll text it to you? Then you’ll have my number and my address.” Her voice is shaking, just enough for me to notice. She’s nervous. I wonder how much of what Mandy said is true.

  I give her my phone number and watch as she types it into her phone.

  “Okay. Good night, Nash. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She leans forward, kissing my cheek and making me have to restrain myself from pulling her to me and crushing my mouth to hers. Her lips are so soft.

  “I’d like it if you’d call me Bryant, by the way,” I tell her honestly. She smiles but doesn’t respond.

  She’s almost to the door of the bar when I realize she didn’t text me to give me her number. She could get cold feet and not text me.

  “Layne,” I shout, causing her to spin around. “Send me your address before I go,” I demand, but with a smile so she knows I’m on to her. She smirks before pulling out her phone and typing into it.

  “Night, Bryant!” she shouts before going inside.

  When my phone chirps, I look at the text and shake my head.

  Unknown: 1295 East Roosevelt Lane. And regardless of what Mandy said, I’m not sleeping with you. FYI.

  I save her number into my phone and consider my response.

  Me: Who said I wanted to sleep with you? I don’t even find you remotely attractive.

  I hit send without thinking. She might not get my humor, and I’m instantly worried. I feel like a dumbass and can’t look away from my phone when the little bubbles pop up while she’s responding.

  Layne: Oh good. Then we’re on the same page. You’re pretty hideous yourself. See you tomorrow.

  I take a deep breath and chuckle. Feisty little thing.

  Layne

  THE SECOND I step the through the door, Mandy is up in my space.

  “Please tell me you agreed to go on a date with the huge hunk of man-meat that was in the parking lot! Come on, Layne!” Mandy screeches.

  “Stop!” I laugh out. “Did you seriously call him ‘man-meat’?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did,” she replies. “I mean, I get you’re pretty much a virgin again, but you’re not fucking blind! He is absolutely scrumptious.”

  I can’t help but laugh because Mandy has zero idea who he is. We may be best friends, but she has zero interest in baseball.

  However, I am fully aware of the level of hotness Bryant Nash brings to the table, but I’m also aware he is a player. I’m past the juvenile stage in my life. When it comes to guys in general, I always have to take into consideration that Gracie is my first priority and if a guy isn’t “stepdad” material from the word go, there is no point in getting myself wrapped up in him.

  If Mandy had even the smallest inkling the hot guy she’s trying to get me to jump into bed with is none other than the Bryant Nash, she’d be even more obsessed.

  “The sheer size of him makes me want to climb him like a spider monkey,” she replies, getting a faraway look in her eyes. Shaking my head, I push her toward the back of the bar. It’s time to get her on a different track.

  “Are you going out tonight or are we gonna sit here and shoot the shit?” I bite out, trying to sound irritated but failing miserably.

  Mandy takes a step forward before swinging around and stopping inches from my face.

  “Not covered in your parking lot dirt I’m not!” she screeches at me, making me laugh. “You can try to sidetrack this conversation all you want, but I saw the way you looked at him. You want him, and the feeling is mutual. I’m not new, Layne! I know the look!” Mandy jeers.

  “Fine. I’m going to dinner with him tomorrow. Now will you stop screeching like a high school cheerleader over a prom date?”

  “Ayeeeeee!” she screams, jumping up and down like she got the best news of her life.

  “What the hell, Mandy?” I holler when she grabs me around the waist and starts spinning around in a circle.

  She stops quickly, causing us to ram into each other and almost topple over. We really are a hot mess.

  I watch as the look on Mandy’s face morphs from happy-go-lucky to happy-friend-with-concern in about two point five seconds flat.

  She wraps her arms around me and pulls me to her, not saying anything at first. When I feel like this situation has moved past normal, I pull away and look at the tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask her seriously.

  Before responding, she pushes me and barks out, “Seriously? You haven’t had a real date since Garrett and before Gracie was born. I’m excited for you.”

  “Wait. You know I’ve been on other dates. I mean, you’ve helped me pick out my clothes for other dates. You’ve done my hair for other dates. You’ve sat with Gracie for other dates. What are you talking about?”

  She regards me seriously for several seconds before responding, “You and I both know you’ve been going through the motions.” She takes a deep breath before she continues with her serious tone. “You’ve pacified me with your ‘See, Mandy, I’m going on a date so please don’t push this topic’ for years, Layne.” She takes another deep breath. “But I see something different in the way you look at this Brian guy.”

  “Bryant,” I correct her.

  “See, right there,” she retorts. “You’ve never cared enough about the other so-called ‘dates’ to correct me about their name.”

  She’s right. Completely, without a doubt, true.

  Since I realized the level of asshole a guy could become when I got pregnant with Gracie, I’ve not given one guy the benefit of the doubt. Sure, I’ve gone out on dates. A few with guys from the bar. A few from random mutual friends hooking us up. But in the years since I got pregnant with Gracie, I’ve never once gotten butterflies the way I have since the moment Bryant Nash walked into my bar a week ago. And, much to my surprise, it has nothing to do with the fact he is a MLB player, and everything to do with him.

  I’ve been attracted to men since Garrett. I mean, I’m not a freaking nun. I have wants, needs, and desires. But not one of them has made me overlook the things I hold most dear. Not one of them has made me want to rethink my stance on being a strong, single mom who can take on the world alone.

  And then Bryant Nash walked into my bar and turned all of that upside down. He makes me feel different, even though I’m not sure I want him too.

  “Whatever, girl. I’m only having dinner with him. No big deal,” I finally respond.

  Mandy regards me carefully, taking in my demeanor and facial expressions. She knows me better than anyone, and I know she sees through my bullshit.

  “Whatever you say, Born Again Virgin,” she laughs out.

  I choose to ignore her and push her toward the door so we can get out of here. I’ve had enough of this day.

  Gracie is at Garrett’s until Monday, and I could use about twenty-four hours of sleep. Considering my date with Bryant is in about seventeen hours, I know I better get home and sleep like the dead.

  “Good night, Mandy. I love you. Now I’m going home to sleep for as many hours as possible,” I tell her, pulling her into one final hug before I head for the main doors to walk her out.

  “Night, bitch.”

  “Get out. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “I better get a call tomorrow night after you lay that gorgeous man out,” she says, laughing, but with a serious tone to her voice.

  “Oh, girl, I’m gonna have Slam Nash eating out of my hand by the end of the night.” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth because I see the recognition on her face, and before she can respond, I push her through the doors, locking them behind her.

  “That was Slam?” she screeches through the closed door.

  “Good night, Mandy!” I holler. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

  I can hear her cussing me and chuckle to myself. It only takes me a moment to realize what I’ve done.
r />   I have a date with Bryant fucking Nash.

  Lord give me strength. He is going to test every single ounce of my patience. I can feel it now.

  Bryant

  SHE SAID YES. Now what?

  I’ve never met a woman who makes me lose my mind and do things I wouldn’t normally do. Like basically beg her to go on a date with me.

  And here I am, hours later, unable to sleep. Her beautiful face and tough exterior keep running through my mind. What is it about this woman? She knew exactly who I was from the word go but treated me like any other random guy walking into the bar.

  Looking over at the clock, I see it’s already five in the morning and I’ve gotten zero sleep. Might as well get up and go for a run.

  Lacing up my shoes before heading down my front steps, I stop only to put my earbuds in as I hear Sarina, my crazy stalker from next door, yell my name. I pretend not to hear her and turn the music up loud before starting off at a slow jog in the direction of the lake. She won’t follow me. I know this from past experience. I seriously doubt she even owns a pair of shoes lower than four inches. Without even giving her a glance, I know she’s dressed to the nines, at five o’clock in the morning. I’ve never seen her in anything but full makeup and hair. It’s like she has a live-in stylist.

  When she moved in last year, I thought she was nice, and she’s definitely not hard on the eyes. I even considered hooking up with her. She hadn’t been living here long when she followed me and some of the guys to a local club one Friday night. She denied following us, but I saw her. So, strike one. Liar.

  The entire time we were there, she kept trying to push her way into our conversations, and every single time, she flipped the topic to her. She shot death glares at every woman who came within a ten-foot radius of us, and even worse, she was a judgmental bitch on top of it. Needless to say, her personality completely knocked out any idea I had of hooking up with her. The older I get, the pickier I get about whose bed I warm. She was definitely out of the running.

  The guys and I ended up making a run for it while she was in the bathroom, and I’ve done everything in my power to avoid her ever since. She never seems to take the hint though. I’m never rude to her, but I’m short with my answers and don’t engage her in conversation. Ever.

  I’ve noticed she’s been stepping up her game recently though. She came over to borrow a couple of eggs the other day because she was “baking a cake for a sick friend.” I’m pretty sure she was lying to get into my place, because don’t you usually make a sick friend soup? I told her I didn’t have any eggs, and I was vegan. I almost felt guilty for lying to her, but I didn’t want her in my space. She didn’t respond immediately, her face scrunched in confusion, but then she started giggling like a sixteen-year-old, batting her eyelashes at me and asking if I was busy and wanted to hang out. I told her I had a girlfriend and it wasn’t a good idea. The look on her face was priceless. I told her goodbye and shut the door before she could recover from the shock.

  The sun is almost completely up when I get to the lake. My feet hit the ground in steady strides, and it’s chilly enough to keep me from overheating. When I get to the spot where the fishermen usually are, I pull my earbuds out and stop for a breather.

  The sound of a child’s happy squeal breaks me from my thoughts, and I look over at the dock nearest to me. There’s a little girl and her dad trying to catch a little fish she must have just reeled in on her little Barbie pole. It’s flopping around all over the dock, and she’s running around squealing like it’s the best thing ever. I watch her dad scramble to catch the fish, and he has the biggest smile on his face and is laughing right along with her screams.

  Once he catches the fish, he holds it up and she stops jumping around, going immediately to his side to grab hold of it the way he’s showing her. She holds it up proudly, and her dad snaps several pictures with his phone before placing it in his back pocket again.

  The little girl slowly reaches down and lowers the fish into the water, waving him gently back and forth before letting him go and watching him swim away. She even waves goodbye to him.

  Having a family of my own has never been in my life goals. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say watching this dad with his child, fishing and laughing and enjoying being together, is making my heart feel like it’s missing something.

  I watch them for a few more minutes before I continue on my run. Is that what I want?

  No. Because even after I’ve technically retired, I’m going to be traveling because there is little doubt in my mind I’m taking this coaching job. What kind of life is that for a wife and kids? Me gone so many months of the year for games. I’ve seen what traveling does to families, and I have no desire to put people I love through it.

  By the time I make it back to my condo, I’m drenched in sweat. I need a shower and to figure out where the hell to take Layne for dinner tonight.

  As my foot hits the steps to the condo, Sarina’s front door flies open and she steps out, making a beeline for me. Shit.

  “Hey, Bryant.” Her sugary-sweet voice travels through the cool morning air.

  “Hi, Sarina,” I respond, not breaking stride to my front door.

  “Do you have a second?”

  I really want to say no, but I know if I don’t stop and talk to her, she’ll continue to hound me over the next few days.

  “What can I do for you? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Oh. Well, I wanted to see if you’d like to come over tonight for dinner? I know we haven’t had much time to get to know each other, but I’d like to change that,” she squeaks out, trying to sound sexy and failing miserably.

  "I’m sorry, Sarina, but I’m pretty sure you heard me when I said I have a girlfriend. I can’t accept your dinner invitation.” I turn to walk away, but she grabs my arm, and I stop but don’t turn to her.

  My body goes rigid as she runs her fake fingernails up my arm and across the back of my neck.

  “Come on, Slam,” her nasally voice ushers out. “She doesn’t have to know. It could be our little secret.”

  Taking a step away from her and pulling my arm from her touch, I turn to her so I can look into her eyes when I respond. I want her to have no doubt about how serious I am.

  “Sarina. You and I will never happen. Ever.”

  Her face goes from confusion to anger quickly, and I don’t want to continue this so I quickly unlock my door and step inside, shutting the door behind me before she can respond.

  She really needs a hobby that doesn’t involve chasing men.

  Since I got very little sleep last night and had a solid run this morning, I’m exhausted. So, after a quick shower to wash off my run, I fall onto the couch and turn on the TV. It’s still pretty early, so I have plenty of time to get ready for tonight.

  A BANGING SOUND brings me out of the coma I’ve apparently fallen into. Holy shit my neck hurts. I must’ve fallen asleep sitting up because I have a kink in my neck now.

  Before I even make it to the front door, I know it’s my best friend Conor because his voice carries through the door.

  “Open up! I know you’re in there,” he yells.

  Flinging the door open as he brings his hand forward to pound on it, I manage to turn my head in time to take the brunt of the hit to my good shoulder instead of my face.

  “Jesus, dude,” I grind out. “Calm your shit!”

  He laughs as he makes his way in the front door without even waiting for an invitation. If he wasn’t my best friend, I’d probably kick his ass right now for waking me up.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What? I can’t come over to hang out with my bestie?” He gives me a big cheesy grin and flutters his eyelashes.

  “What do you want now?” I laugh out.

  “So, last night, I went out with some of the guys and met this totally hot chick, and I’m supposed to meet up with her tonight. She’s bringing her roommate. I need my wingman.”

  He always sucks me int
o shit like this, and he knows I hate it.

  “Not happening tonight, my man. I have a date.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes before responding. “Yeah, a date with Porn Hub and your right hand.”

  “Fuck you!” I choke out through my laughter. “I’m serious. I have a date.”

  He stares at me for what feels like longer than acceptable, his eyes narrowed like he’s trying to read my mind.

  “You’re serious.” It’s not a question, but I nod.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Who’s it with? Do I know her? Does she have a friend… or better yet, a sister?” He rambles off more questions, but I’m shaking my head and tuning him out already.

  “No, you don’t know her. No, she does not have a friend or a sister for you. It’s one date. No biggie.”

  “No biggie,” he mumbles before turning his back to me and walking into my kitchen. “You’re full of shit. You haven’t been on a date in a billion years. What makes this girl different?”

  I don’t really know how to answer. There’s something about Layne that makes me think about things I’ve never wanted before. I just met her and have spent very little time with her so far, but I still can’t help the pull I feel to her.

  “I wish I knew,” I tell him honestly. “She’s down to earth and sassy and beautiful, but she doesn’t know it. She’s also got a heart of gold… and she’s a mom.” I sort of mumble out the last part, hoping he misses it because I know it’s going to open up a can of worms I’m not in the mood to listen to.

  He chokes on the water he’s chugging, and I know immediately he heard me.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry,” he coughs out. “Did you say she’s a mom?”

  I nod and walk away from him. I glance at the clock, realizing I slept most of the day away because it’s only two hours until my date with Layne.

  “I don’t have time to discuss this with you. I gotta shower and shave and shit,” I blurt out as I walk into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.