“How you feeling?” she asks without looking up from the sink where she is washing glasses.
“Sore,” I tell her honestly. Her eyes instantly meet mine.
“You were favoring your right shoulder late in the game,” she replies, keeping her voice low so only I hear her.
She’s right. It’s a little tender, but I’ve been trying not to let it affect my game.
“Didn’t Gracie start practice this week? How’s it going?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from my shoulder.
“She did,” she responds immediately with a huge smile. “They put her at right field, and she’s not happy about it. She wants to play first base like last year.”
“Why won’t the coach let her play first?”
“He says she’s afraid of the ball since she got hit with it last year. He wants her to play outfield for a bit so he can work with her before he puts her back at first.”
I nod again, not really understanding his theory behind that. Face your fears, not put them in right field.
I scan the bar and notice Conor is sitting at a table with several men and women chatting about the last game. I chuckle and turn my attention back to Layne.
“So, what’s with the surprise visit?”
“Nothing. We got home today and I wanted to say hi and have a beer. That’s friendly, right?”
“Sure,” she says with a shrug. “Surprised, that’s all.”
“We can’t stay long, and I’ll probably have to drag Conor out of here before he proposes to someone. He’s ‘lonely,’” I tell her with air quotes and all.
She giggles and shakes her head, turning to see Conor chatting up her customers.
Even though the sports highlights for this week are playing on all the TVs, I can’t tear my eyes away from Layne as she moves around the bar so gracefully. She really has no idea how beautiful she is.
The seating area itself is fairly large, with two huge big screens on opposite ends, and a couple of normal-size TVs scattered throughout. Smoke memorabilia decorates the walls, along with neon signs with beer and liquor names. Even though it’s in a sketchier part of the city, it’s got a laid back, homey feel to it. Layne, and her father before her, have obviously taken good care of the place.
When she gets back behind the bar, she notices me watching her and gives me a sweet smile before continuing with her work. She is always so focused when she’s working. She takes being a business owner seriously, and I respect her for that. She walks around and chats with her customers like they are life-long friends.
It’s not long before the achiness starts to set into my muscles again and I feel myself becoming more and more tired.
Spotting Conor on the other side of the room, I head his way to tell him it’s time to go, but slow my pace when I see he and Layne seem to be in deep conversation. They look relaxed, and the tightness in my chest loosens when Layne throws her head back and laughs wholeheartedly. I know sometimes Conor can be a little too much for people to take and a lot of people don’t get his sense of humor. Layne obviously does.
“What’d I miss,” I ask as I walk up beside her.
“It seems your friend here wants to meet all my single friends,” she chuckles. I roll my eyes and glare at Conor.
“Dude, you just met her and you’re already hitting her up to hook you up with friends? Do you have no shame?” I joke with him.
“Nope. None,” he replies with a full-on cheesy smile.
“I can’t take you anywhere, I swear.” I laugh out before turning my attention to Layne.
“I need to get home before I fall asleep sitting at your bar. I’m exhausted and we have training tomorrow.”
She reaches over and places her hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch a little, but enough for her to notice. When her eyes meet mine, her face is etched in concern.
She motions toward the bar, and I follow her as we walk away from Conor, who is shoveling pretzels in his mouth and has his attention back on the other people at the table.
“You okay?” she asks, low under her breath without looking at me as we walk.
“Yep. Right as rain. A little sore. I’ll be fine tomorrow,” I reply. I almost shrug but stop myself because I’m sure that’ll hurt too.
Before we make it to the bar, Layne grabs my left hand and steers us around the bar to the back swinging doors, pulling me behind her. She lets go of my hand and opens what I assume is a walk-in freezer with the amount of cold air rushing out of it and disappears inside. When she walks out a few seconds later, she’s carrying an ice wrap. She grabs my hand again and pulls me to a small table with two chairs.
“Have a seat, Mr. Nash,” she tells me, and I do what she says, ’cause the ice wrap is looking like heaven right now.
I sit down and almost groan when she lays it on my shoulder and wraps it around so it will stay on. She walks back out to the bar area, before returning again a few minutes later with a large frosty mug of water and a bottle of ibuprofen in her hand. She taps out a couple of pills and hands them to me, followed by the water.
She’s being awfully bossy, but at the same time not saying much.
“Give those a few minutes to kick in, and then I’ll release you to go home,” she scolds, but a small smile plays on her lips.
“Thanks, Dr. Scott,” I joke. The idea she wants to help me is strange. I’ve never had that before. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
She turns back to me, giving me a small smile before responding. “Well someone should. I have no doubt you’re as stubborn as they come. I can see the pain written all over your face.”
I drop my eyes to the mug in my hand and don’t respond. How is it possible that this woman I barely know can read me better than people who’ve known me for years?
She rubs her hand across the top of my forearm and walks back out into the bar.
As I take in my surroundings, it dawns on me this is a full kitchen. A kitchen fit for a restaurant. She really should expand her menu.
When the ice wrap begins to melt, I place it back in the cooler and walk back out front. There are several new customers sitting at the bar, and I notice Conor is still chatting away. He’s such a social butterfly.
One of the men who recently arrived and is sitting at the bar looks up at me, and I see the recognition on his face almost instantly.
“Holy shit, you’re Slam Nash!” he barks out, almost choking on his beer.
“Bryant,” I respond, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “It’s Bryant Nash.”
Although the ice and ibuprofen helped, my shoulder is aching something fierce, and I really need to get home.
“Mr. Nash, it’s an honor to meet you.” The guy holds his hand out for me to shake, which I do.
“You too,” I respond with zero enthusiasm. I probably sound like a dick right now, but I can’t help it at this point. I’ve got to get out of here.
Conor walks up then, smiling like usual, and when he sees the look on my face, he knows it’s time to go.
“Layne, it was a pleasure to finally meet you, seeing how you’ve got this one wrapped around your little finger,” Conor tells Layne. Her cheeks turn pink instantly and she avoids looking at me.
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t ya think?” Layne laughs.
“Nope. Never seen—” He starts, but I cut him off before he embarrasses me further.
“All right, Conor,” I interrupt. “Time to go.”
Conor kisses Layne’s hand with a shit-eating grin on his face. She shakes her head slowly, like she’s watching a child do something he shouldn’t. That sounds about right actually.
After telling Layne I’ll see her soon, I drag Conor out of the bar, without a future Mrs. McLoughney.
Layne
THE PAST FEW weeks have been surreal. When Bryant said he wanted to be friends, I’d really thought it was only an excuse to stop coming around. Like the “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse every guy on the planet used during h
igh school or college.
But he’d been serious. We text back and forth during the day, and he calls me after almost every game to talk. He keeps me up-to-date on Conor’s shenanigans.
As much as I wish there was more to our relationship, he seems completely content with us being “just friends.” That hurts a little since my heart still flutters at every text or call.
He’s only been to the bar once since the night I iced down his shoulder in the back room, and it was a quick visit. As much as I wish he’d come by more, I think it’s probably better for us both if he doesn’t.
I wake up looking forward to his texts, and on game days, I’m chomping at the bit for my phone to ring as soon as the game is over. I’m getting too attached to him, and it probably would be in the best interest of my heart to step back from him a little.
Mandy keeps telling me I need to throw myself at him and see if he catches me. Her words, not mine. She’s convinced Bryant needs a push and he’ll fall head over heels in love with me. I think maybe she’s a romantic at heart, even if she denies it. Bryant seems completely comfortable with our friendship the way it is.
Plus, he doesn’t want a relationship. I constantly have to remind myself I don’t have time for a man with commitment issues. He’s made it perfectly clear a friendship is all he can offer me. As much as I’m enjoying our friendship, I know I’ll probably have to pull back soon or risk getting hurt.
As I’m about to head to bed, my phone chimes with an incoming text.
Bryant: Knock knock
I chuckle because he started this recently when I told him Gracie was into knock-knock jokes and she was driving me batty. He now sends me random jokes throughout the day.
Me: Who’s there?
Bryant: Daisy
Me: Daisy who?
Bryant: Daisy me rollin… they hatin…
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. That one might be the most ridiculous and my favorite so far.
Me: Dork. Lol
Bryant: Hey! No need for name callin… plus, it was funny as hell. Admit it, you laughed.
Me: I laughed because you’re a dork.
Bryant: Whatever. How was your day?
Me: Long. I’m beat, which is why I’m going to bed right now. You’re impeding on my beauty sleep.
Bryant: You don’t need beauty sleep. You’re already gorgeous.
Me: Uh huh, smooth talker. Knock it off.
Bryant: What? It’s true.
His compliment makes me uncomfortable because I want him to think I’m gorgeous, but I also know he now sees me as nothing more than a friend, so I can’t let my mind drift to the “what ifs.”
Me: Thanks. I’m going to bed. Have a good night.
I plug my phone in and climb into bed. As I reach for my Kindle, my phone vibrates and lights up.
Bryant: Did I upset you?
Me: No. I’m overly tired, which makes me cranky. Plus, I don’t normally have my “friends” call me gorgeous. Well, Mandy does, but she doesn’t count. She doesn’t have a penis.
Bryant: I have one of those.
Me: You don’t say.
Bryant: Truth.
Me: Good night, Bryant.
Bryant: Good night, gorgeous. ;)
Bryant
I KNOW I’M treading close to the edge with the recent flirting that has been going on, but I can’t help myself. The more time I spend “talking” to her, the more my addiction to her increases. She’s fun and sassy and beautiful. She’s like the perfect woman.
I’m in deep shit.
Maybe I should back off. I’m getting too attached to her.
But she’s amazing.
Sometimes, when it’s late and I call her after my games, the rasp of her voice makes me go to non-friendly thoughts. Like what she sounds like when she’s in the throes of passion. What her hands on my skin would feel like. I’ll admit that remembering the way her body melted into mine when I kissed her has starred in more than one of my dreams.
As a teenager who never stayed attached to one girl more than a couple weeks, I remember my dad telling me that one day I’d meet a woman who would change everything for me. I haven’t thought about those lectures in years. His words have come flooding back into my memory over the past couple of weeks.
My parents’ relationship was what fairy tales were made of. They’d been high school sweethearts, who broke up when he went off to college, leaving my mother heart broken in their small hometown in California. Four years later, when my dad returned for her, a plan he’d had from day one, unbeknownst to her, she was already dating someone else.
I’ll never forget the story of how they got back together.
She definitely made it hard for him. He sent flowers and presents and did everything in his power to win her back. After a few months of his groveling, she finally agreed to go out on a date with him, and the rest is history. When she finally admitted that she’d known the moment he returned she would take him back but wanted him to work for it, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed. Three months later, they were married and he moved her to Colorado where he’d started building his life. They were the happiest couple I’d ever witnessed. Always holding hands and cuddling together. My friends used to tease me about how lovey-dovey they were, but I loved it. They showed me as much love as they showed each other.
One thing is for damn sure. My dad’s words about finding a woman that would change everything for me were definitely true. Even though Layne and I aren’t together and I’m trying like hell to keep our relationship on the friendship level, she’s definitely changing me.
Yep. I’m in deep shit.
Layne
AS I PULL UP in the driveway at Garrett’s house, I watch Chrissy walk out the front door, heading toward, what I assume, is her brand new Audi parked in front of me. Her hair and makeup immaculate, her clothing top of the line. She smiles brightly and steers my way when she sees me pulling in.
“Hey, Layne,” she exclaims. It still weirds me out a bit that this woman always seems to be happy to see me. On one hand, I get it. She’s happily engaged to my ex, and she seems to adore my child and treats her right, but we’ve never even really had a full conversation. That fact makes me reevaluate our relationship. This woman has the potential to be in Gracie’s life forever, I really should make more of an effort to be friends with her. Not just “every other weekend” friends. Someone I can comfortably let into our lives completely so Gracie has not only a mother and father who love and care for her but a stepmother who puts Gracie’s needs before her own.
Our situation couldn’t be more perfect, and I need to do my part in this relationship.
“Hi, Chrissy,” I reply, trying to make my voice sound as sincere as possible.
Gracie jumps out of the back seat, immediately wrapping her arms around Chrissy and hugging her tightly. My heart seizes for a moment, the thought of another woman loving my child is still something I’m trying to adjust to.
I watch as Chrissy embraces Gracie, hugging her to her body like she’s her own.
“Where are you off to?” I ask, pulling Gracie’s backpack from the back seat.
“I’m running to pick up the pizzas for dinner,” Chrissy responds. “You wanna go with me, Gracie? Your dad is setting up the new theater room so we can watch movies this weekend.”
Deep breath, Layne. Plastering a smile on my face, I turn to my baby girl, hugging her tightly and kissing her on the cheek.
“Have fun, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up from school on Monday,” I tell her. She kisses me on the cheek and then bounds her tiny body over to Chrissy’s car, waving before she disappears inside.
“Bye,” Chrissy hollers as she also disappears into the car.
I pull my car out of the driveway, allowing Chrissy and my baby to pull out and drive away. Knowing I need to touch base with Garrett, I park beside the curb and walk to the front door.
Before I can knock, the front door flies open and Garrett’s face app
ears.
“Hey, Layne,” his deep voice rumbles.
“Hi,” I reply with a smile. Some days I wish things had worked out for us. He’s a good guy, and gorgeous. Deep down I know it was for the best because we are so different, it never would’ve worked in the long run. However, seeing him be such a great dad and watching how wonderfully he treats Chrissy makes my heart ache because I don’t have that kind of companionship in my life, and it brings my thoughts to Bryant.
“Earth to Layne,” Garrett chuckles. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m tired and spacing off apparently,” I retort with a laugh. “I wanted to touch base with you about Gracie’s game tomorrow. I already spoke to her about it, and I’m not gonna be able to come. Mandy’s brother, Matt, is getting married Saturday afternoon and it will be an all-weekend thing with the drive to and from. Gracie is okay with it.”
“Oh, okay,” he responds, his tone sounding a little disappointed. “I didn’t know the spawn of Satan had a brother.” I glare at him for a second before he busts out laughing.
“Come on, that was funny. Admit it,” he forces out through his laughter. I give him a small smirk and shake my head.
He and Mandy literally can’t stand to be in the same room. They do nothing but fight when they are within a hundred-yard vicinity of each other. He’s always disliked Mandy because she is promiscuous. He’s one of those guys who thinks it’s okay for a man to sleep with every willing woman but a woman can’t do it or she’s a whore. Plus, Mandy calls him out on his shit and always has. When I found out I was pregnant with Gracie and he basically washed his hands of our relationship, I thought she’d kill him. I think the fact Garrett has been such a huge part of Gracie’s life since she was born has softened Mandy to him a little because, although he didn’t want me, he loves our daughter and it shows.
Slam: A Colorado Smoke Novel Page 8
