Slam: A Colorado Smoke Novel

by Andee Michelle

  “Can I help you?” I bark out, not meaning to sound like an asshole, but he scared the shit out of me.

  “I’m so sorry,” he replies, taking a step back, with a huge smile plastering his face. His smile is beautiful, and I find myself staring at his perfect teeth. His dark chocolate skin is smooth and stubble free. His eyes are so soulful, I almost feel like I could get lost in them. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to see if you might be interested in having dinner with me sometime?” His deep voice stumbles like he’s nervous and breaks me from the trance his eyes have me in.

  My face must show the shock I’m feeling from a total stranger asking me out because his face falls a little.

  Before I can answer, I hear a voice I don’t recognize. “Sorry, buddy, she’s busy.”

  What the hell? I whip around toward the voice, not knowing what to expect, but the sight of Conor McLoughney standing by the edge of the field glaring daggers at both of us is not it.

  The guy looks from me to Conor and back again before mumbling out a quick apology and retreating back over to his seat. I can’t tear my eyes away and instantly feel bad for him.

  What in the hell just happened?

  I’ve never even met Conor before.

  And then I watch as Conor saunters over to a very pissed-off looking Bryant Nash and bumps fists with him, all while Nash’s eyes are burning holes into mine.

  I can’t even remotely hide the humorless laugh that bursts out of me. Gracie looks at me confused, and I ruffle her hair and take my seat. He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks he has any say in what I do. His face softens and he smirks when he sees me laughing. He must think I find it cute he went all caveman and sent his best friend over here to run the guy off. Lifting my hand to my face, I scratch the nonexistent itch at the corner of my nose with my middle finger, never taking my eyes off his. The moment he realizes I’m flipping him off, his glare returns.

  Enough is enough. I tear my eyes from his and vow not to look at him again for the rest of the game.

  I’LL ADMIT, NOT looking at the third baseman during a baseball game is hard, especially when he makes some amazing plays. When Gracie jumps from her seat and screams how amazing he is after a double play in the seventh inning, he looks directly at her, points and winks. I thought she was going to pass out from excitement.

  “Mama! Did you see that? Nash heard me, and he pointed and winked at me!” she screeches at the top of her lungs. I laugh with her and jump up and down because she is on cloud nine and I’m not about to ruin the moment for her. The smile on her face is off the charts and makes me soften to him a tiny bit. A super tiny little bit.

  When the game is over, Gracie and I grab all our things and walk to the exit. I’m exhausted and ready for a good night sleep. We dump our trash in the huge trash bins set up by the concession stands and make our way out to the parking lot.

  The entire walk to the car, Gracie is rattling off stats from the game. I’m listening and laughing at her excitement.

  “Do you think we could go to the World Series if the Smoke goes?” she screams loudly.

  “Baby, you’ve gotta stop screaming. My head is gonna explode,” I say, laughing. “They haven’t even made it to the playoffs yet. Let’s see how the next few games go before we start making plans. Plus, the tickets are crazy expensive.”

  “Dang it,” she mumbles. “I really wanna go.” She’s shuffling her feet and kicking rocks when we reach the car.

  “I’ll make you a promise. If the Smoke goes to the World Series, I’ll do everything in my power to take you to the home games. Even if I have to sell a kidney to pay for the tickets.”

  She scrunches up her face in disgust, and I laugh out, pulling her into me and hugging her tight.

  Once back home, we change into our jammies and cuddle up on the couch to watch TV. Tomorrow she’s at her dad’s because I’m closing. I hate being away from her so much the weeks Garrett has her Wednesday and Thursday and then all weekend. I feel like I’m missing out on her life those days.

  After I get her tucked into bed, it takes me no time at all to get myself settled. I’m exhausted. As my head hits the pillow, my phone chimes. It’s plugged into the charger on the other side of the room, and I’m not getting up again. Then it chimes again, and my curiosity gets the best of me.

  Bryant: I’m outside your house. I need to talk to you.

  My heart starts thumping loudly. What the hell is he doing here?

  Bryant: Come on, Layne. I saw the lights go out as I pulled up a few minutes ago. I know you’re not asleep yet.

  I throw on a robe and quietly tiptoe to the door. Gracie would freak out if she woke up and saw him here. Freak out!

  I open the door gently and slide my body out the crack, shutting it behind me. Turning to him quickly, I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when he steps forward, threads his fingers into the back of my hair and kisses me like his life depends on it. My first reaction is to smack the shit out of him for touching me and for the way he acted after our date the other night, but my body is a traitor and melts into him.

  He deepens the kiss and I let him, grabbing onto his shirt with both hands to steady myself. When he pulls back slowly, he peppers my lips with soft kisses before pressing his forehead to mine. His kisses taste like bubble gum, and it makes me crave more of him.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask what that was, for fear you’ll bolt again,” I say tentatively, closing my eyes and bracing myself for his retreat.

  “I’m not gonna bolt.” His tone is firm as he takes a step back from me, breaking our connection.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”

  “Gracie is sleeping, and I don’t want to risk her seeing you here. She’d scream her head off if she caught you here,” I tell him with a chuckle.

  He takes a step back toward me, grabbing my hands in his.

  “I guess we’ll have this conversation here, because I can’t leave until I explain my actions the other night.”

  I nod but don’t speak.

  “I’ve never wanted a relationship for a reason. I’ve been in the MLB since I was a kid, Layne. I’ve lived and breathed baseball for so long, I don’t know anything else. I travel for games. I travel for my endorsements. I travel all the time. And even though I’m retiring after this season, I’ll still be traveling because I’ll be coaching.” He takes a deep breath and sits down on the step, pulling my hand down with him. Sitting next to him and looking at the expression on his face makes my heart soften a little.

  “I really like you. I’m not even remotely exaggerating when I say I’ve never met a woman quite like you. You’re smart and beautiful and funny, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially me. You don’t need someone like me tromping into your life with all my bullshit,” he says honestly. He leans forward and places a gentle kiss to my lips. “But for the life of me, I don’t know how to stay away from you.” Kiss. “I think about you all the time.” Kiss.

  Placing my hand on his chest so he’ll put some space between us, I look into his eyes and see nothing but sincerity.

  “Bryant, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I get why you’ve never had a relationship. I really do. Traveling and being in a relationship is no picnic I’m sure. But why are you telling me these things? We went on one date.”

  He once again grabs my hands and looks down at them, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

  “Because I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole,” he says, chuckling. “I know we’ve only gone on one date, but since I’m basically spilling my guts to you, I’d be stupid not to admit I feel a connection to you like I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.”

  He stands, pulling me with him. “But the thing is,” he starts again, “what I feel for you is a distraction I can’t afford. I need to focus on my season, on my career.”

  Although I get what he’s saying, because he’s right, it still sort of feels like h
e kicked me in the gut. I’m not sure why I’m going over this in my head right now. I’d already decided he and I are a bad idea. A man afraid to commit? Been there, done that, no desire for a replay.

  I’m not sure how he expected me to react to this information, but he cringes at the last part like he’s expecting me to blow up.

  “Um, first of all, I get it. You’ve worked your whole life for this chance. Why would you risk it by being distracted by a woman you just met? That’s stupid,” I tell him quickly. I watch as his face goes from concerned to surprised in a split second.

  “With that said, what makes you think I want a relationship? I enjoyed our date the other night, minus the freak out at the end, but I have more important things to focus on than a bad boy baseball player.” He looks almost wounded so I continue. “Look, I like you too. I have fun hanging out with you, but I’m a workaholic and, above all else, a mom. I don’t have time for games.” I wish I could make my heart believe all the words I’m spewing. Because at the end of the day, he’s right. We do have a connection, but baseball will always come first for him.

  I understand why, but I’d never put myself and my daughter in a position to be second best for anyone.

  He takes a deep breath before he responds. “So, do you think we can be friends? I mean, you’re not going to kick me out of the bar now, are you? I like coming and hanging out with you.”

  I smile in response, but my heart plummets. We’re agreeing to be friends, knowing the kind of chemistry between us. This is probably a really bad idea.

  “I guess it’s settled then,” I agree. He starts to pull me into him again, but I place my hand on his chest and press him back. “Friends don’t hug and kiss, Bryant.”

  “You’re right.” He chuckles. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulls my hand away from his chest, placing a kiss on the top, before letting go and walking away. When he gets to his car, he looks back up at me and winks.

  “I’ll come by the bar later this week when this series of games is over,” he assures me.

  My only response is to smile and wave.

  Bryant

  TWO MORE WINS for the Smoke and we are even closer to going to the playoffs. It’s been almost a week since my middle of the night visit to Layne. I texted her after our game two days ago, and she said she was crazy busy with all the customers who’d come in to watch the game and she’d text me later. She didn’t.

  I texted her again last night right before the game and didn’t have time to wait for her response, so I didn’t see it until after. She said good luck. I figure she was short with me because she was slammed at work, like tonight. Either that or she’s avoiding me.

  We got home this afternoon, and I’m sore as hell from the last couple of games. They are really starting to take a toll on my shoulder. It’s already after ten, but I really want to see her. I know it’s her night to close, so Gracie is with her dad. There is no way in hell I’ll make it until 1:00 a.m. when she closes though. We’ve got more training tomorrow, and then we leave for Seattle early next week for another round of games.

  Making up my mind, I head home to change first. Something less showy than the suit. I hate having to wear them when we travel, but it’s part of the image the league wants us to portray. It’s stupid. Plus, if I go in there dressed like this, they’ll know it’s me the moment I walk through the door. I’m not opposed to hanging out with my fans, but a bar full of them is a little much. I really want to sit at the bar, have a beer or two, and talk to Layne.

  I haven’t even pulled into the driveway when my phone rings. When I see it’s Conor, I almost don’t answer it. He’s been cranky as shit lately because he can’t “find a good woman” as he puts it. I informed him finding a good woman in bars notorious for cleat chasers is probably not the best place to look. That response didn’t make him happy.

  “’Lo,” I bark into the phone.

  “Let’s go get a beer, dude. I can’t sit in this apartment tonight. I’m too keyed up,” he rushes out. It’s like he drank a pot of coffee since I saw him an hour ago.

  “Sorry, man. Plans.”

  “Come on, man! I’m lonely.”

  “Jesus, dude. You need to find a girlfriend. Why can’t you be unattached for like a week?” I laugh out.

  “I was not made to be alone, Bryant!”

  I can’t help but laugh. He’s completely right. He’s been through girlfriend after girlfriend since his divorce. He swears he’ll find “the one” soon.

  “Look, I’m going to go by Layne’s bar since she’s working.” The moment it leaves my mouth, I regret it.

  “Sweet, swing by and pick me up. I’ll go with.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no? I’m your best friend. You’re in love with this bar girl, and I haven’t even officially met her yet,” he fake whines.

  “Stop it. First, I’m not in love with her and we’re only friends. Second, I don’t want your ass there hitting on her or whatever else you plan to do to make me mad.”

  “Fine. I’ll follow you.”

  And then he hangs up.

  Dammit.

  I rush into the house to change clothes, knowing damn well by the time I get out of this suit and into something else, he’ll be at my front door. A side effect of living a few blocks from your best friend.

  I haven’t even gotten my shirt over my head when I hear the front door open.

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  I groan under my breath and make my way out into the living room. He’s in board shorts, a hoodie, and flip-flops.

  “You know it’s like forty-five degrees outside, right?”

  “Yep. Let’s go.”

  I shake my head and laugh. There’s no getting around him coming, so he might as well ride with me.

  “I’ll drive,” I gripe at him as he makes his way to his truck.

  “Nope, I’ll follow you. Ya know, in case I meet the future Mrs. Conor McLoughney,” he explains while wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

  Shaking my head, I get in the car and head to Layne.

  As we pull into the parking lot, I notice there aren’t as many cars as I expected, which is nice because Conor being with me will definitely get us recognized.

  When he gets out of his truck and walks over to me, he’s got a big-ass grin on his face.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Looking all nervous and shit.” He laughs before slapping me too hard on the back.

  “Don’t be weird in there.”

  “I’m the coolest person you know, Nash.”

  “I’m serious. Don’t overdo it.”

  He regards me like he’s trying to read my mind.

  “I’ll be cool,” he finally responds and heads off to the door without waiting for a response.

  This is gonna be bad. He’s going to embarrass me. I know it.

  I try to keep my ball cap pulled low, but it really won’t make a difference once people notice Conor, who in no way, shape, or form is trying to hide his identity.

  My eyes scan behind the bar quickly and find her, stocking beer with her back to me. We don’t even make it halfway across the room before someone yells, “Holy shit that’s Conor McLoughney.” Conor smiles and waves but continues to the bar where Layne has spun around to face us. When her eyes meet mine, she gives me a little smirk and shakes her head in disbelief.

  As soon as we sit down, a couple of women who were sitting near the other entrance head our way. One of them sits next to me and the other slides up next to Conor. This was a bad idea.

  Layne smiles brightly as she walks to us, a little more sway in her hips than I remember there being.

  “What can I get you, boys?” she asks politely, no sign of irritation or jealousy.

  “How about your phone number?” Conor responds cheekily. Then he laughs so loud it draws even more attention when I growl at him.

  “I’ll have a Blue Moon. I don’t know what this idiot wants,” I groan out. Layne rol
ls her eyes at us and turns to get my beer. The moment her back is turned, the woman sitting next to me scoots closer, making me a little uncomfortable and a whole lot of worried about how Layne will respond.

  “Hey, sugar, wanna buy a girl a drink?” she slurs out. I’m about to decline when Layne sets my beer in front of me and leans on the bar toward the woman.

  “Carla, honey, go back over to your table and get your things together. Your husband will be here in five minutes. I already called him.”

  “Thanks, Layne. You’re the best.” Carla stands from the bar and stumbles her way back over to the door she was sitting by when we came in.

  “What can I get for you?” Layne asks Conor. When the woman sitting next to Conor looks up at Layne, she motions her head to the door but doesn’t say a word. The woman nods in acknowledgment and goes back over to her friend.

  “I’ll have a Guinness.”

  “Guinness coming right up,” she responds with a smile.

  “I’m Conor, by the way,” he blurts before she can walk away. She turns to him, smiling, reaches out her hand to shake his and laughs when Conor brings her hand to his lips and kisses it.

  “Layne Scott. Pleased to meet you, Conor,” she replies coyly. “Although, I’m gathering you know who I am, considering you two went all caveman on the poor guy trying to ask me out at the game last week.”

  “It was all his idea. I do what he tells me. I’m his best friend, by the way, but I’m the cool one.” He laughs while pointing at Bryant.

  “You two are trouble with a capital T.” She pulls her hand out of Conor’s grasp and turns to get his beer, as I pop him in the back of the head.

  “Ouch, dick. What’d you do that for?”

  “Stop it. You’re flirting with her on purpose to make me mad,” I whisper-shout.

  Conor laughs and looks around the bar. Several of the patrons have moved closer to us, and more than one of the ladies is showing a special interest in Conor. I keep my ball cap pulled down and my eyes behind the bar. Conor can mingle with the people if he wants, but I came to see Layne. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before he’s making himself at home at their tables, chatting them up like they’re all old friends.