by Lynn Stevens
He smiled, almost shyly. “I hoped you were home.”
“You could’ve called.” I stepped back from the door and let him in. That’s when I noticed the grocery bags.
“That would’ve been too logical.” He set the bags on the kitchen counter and ran his hand through damp hair. “And logic keeps going out the window when it comes to you.”
“I know what you mean,” I said as I closed the door and leaned against it.
“You do?” He raised his eyebrows as if he doubted what I said.
“I’m…” I clenched my hands into fists then spread my fingers. “Brutal honesty is required here.” He nodded so I continued. “We’ve always been at odds and I keep waiting for someone to tell me this is all a big joke. That you’re just screwing with my head, with my heart. That you could never…care for someone like me.”
Devon glanced around my apartment before meeting my gaze. “Funny thing is that I have the same thoughts.” He strode toward me and put his hands on my waist. “I can tell you this is no joke. There is no screwing around with your heart or your head. And I already care about you. A lot.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“That’s it?” His lips curled into a teasing grin.
“Um…ditto?”
“I’ll take that.” He bent his head and captured my lips with his mouth, claiming me in a way I’d never known I wanted before. And he broke away much too soon. “If I don’t stop, the food will go bad.”
“Food?” I said, still drunk off his kiss.
“I lost a bet.” He backed away from me, letting go of my waist. “So I’m here to make good on that bet. I believe lobster bisque was requested?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t doubt that Devon could do what he set his mind to, but I found it hard to believe he could whip up a bisque.
“Nope, I went over to Mom’s after I left practice this afternoon, and we picked out the lobsters together from Finzoli’s market.” He started taking containers out of the bag. “Now, I will confess, she helped cook the lobsters. But if that’s considered a cheat”—he stared at me with humor in his eyes—“I can still owe you.”
I almost giggled. “I think I’ll reserve judgment until after you’re done.”
“Fair enough.” I stood to help him, but he pointed at the wingback. “Sit, woman. I need to concentrate.”
“Bossy much?” I settled into the wingback anyway, even though I wanted to defy the order. It wasn’t a male chauvinistic type of command, but more of an ordered request.
“Yes, I can be.” Devon turned his back on me and began to cook.
He hummed under his breath. I couldn’t tell what song, but it was sexy as hell. All I could do was watch. He danced around the small kitchen, cussing when he burned himself on the touchy gas stove. It was equal parts fascinating and amusing as he conducted himself as his humming crescendoed. He didn’t ask where anything was. The kitchen wasn’t big, so it didn’t take him long to find my mismatched bowls and plates. He set the table and put a basket of bread in the center. He took a large candle out of the last bag and placed it beside the rolls. His phone buzzed and he stepped back into the kitchen to take the pot off the burner.
“Almost done,” he said over his shoulder. “Come on over. I’ll dish it out.”
“Smells delicious.” I said as I moved from the wingback to the small table. “Where’d you learn to cook? Your mom?”
Devon laughed as he stirred the bisque before ladling it into two bowls. “Actually, no. Mom can bake like there’s no tomorrow, but she doesn’t want to set foot in the kitchen when she gets home. My dad makes dinner almost every night. I think it’s his way of winding down after a hard day at JenCar. Anderson rides him pretty hard sometimes.”
“Why doesn’t your dad run the bakery with your mom?”
Devon shrugged and sat across from me. “He loves JenCar.”
I nodded and stared at the bisque. “Looks great.”
“Okay,” Devon said, holding up his hands. “I have a confession to make before you taste this.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“First, I’ve never made lobster bisque before. Second, I’m not that great of a cook.” He grimaced. “I’m not terrible, but I’m not great, either. So if this sucks, I’ll run out and get you anything you want. Anything at all.”
“Pizza?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Then we’ll order delivery,” I said, sticking my spoon into the bowl. “If this sucks.”
“Right.” Devon sighed and put his spoon in the bowl and brought it to his lips. His face soured. “Not sure you should try it.”
I tasted it quickly, letting it glide down my throat. It was damn near orgasmic. “Oh my God.”
“That bad?” he said, scrunching his face in either fear or disgust.
“That good,” I said, taking another spoonful. “This is perfect.”
Devon tried his again. His expression didn’t change. “This is not perfect. It’s disgusting.”
I laughed. “Bisque virgin?”
“Something like that. Mind if I order that pizza anyway?”
“More bisque for me,” I said as I finished my bowl and reached for his.
Devon tapped the app on his phone, only stopping to verify my address. “Are we going to talk about earlier?”
“He’s gone,” I said. “And he’s not coming back.”
“What did he want?”
Me. I kept my gaze on my bowl as I wiped it clean with bread. “He wanted to talk. And to let me know that my father’s opening a used car lot. That’s why he was here with Trevor. To pick up a car.”
“Your brother said the same. He’s a good guy.” Devon kept his tone even and smooth, as if none of this mattered. “Is that all Henry wanted?”
“No,” I whispered. A tiny voice in my head said to lie, but I’d promised myself I wouldn’t with Devon. No matter how unpleasant things might become. “He…he tried to kiss me.”
“Tried to or succeeded?”
I glanced over at him. His hands were gipping the table like he might fly away. His eyes were shut as tight as his jaw was clenched. I put my hand over one of his. “Tried and failed.”
That didn’t have the effect on him I’d hoped for. Instead of relaxing, Devon clenched everything tighter. “Did you want him to succeed?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I stood and went around the table. Devon’s eyes snapped open. I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him gently. “What does that tell you?”
He pulled me onto his lap. “That maybe I should cancel the pizza.”
“Not so fast, slugger,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I reopened that old wound. “Since we’re doing this whole relationship thing, I want to go slow. We jumped into bed once—”
“Almost twice,” he said with a grin.
“Fine, almost twice, and…” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to rush into it again.” Even though I was ready to rip your clothes off last night. “Is that okay?”
Devon kissed my nose. “Of course. I don’t want you to regret anything else between us, Olivia. We’ve already had two bad swings, I’d prefer not to strike out.”
“Really? A baseball analogy?”
“Get used to it.” He dipped me back, kissing my neck. “I’m all for hitting a true cycle with you, anyway. One base at a time.”
Chapter Eighteen
Devon left around nine the night before. Baseball curfew was a bitch. We’d spent the rest of our evening together making out and talking. I floated through my morning classes, catching glances from him before one of his friends distracted him.
By the time I got to Ethics, I was a ball of nervous energy. It was the only class where we sat by each other and had time to talk. Unfortunately, he showed up late so we had to wait until after class to even say hi.
Prof. Farmer dismissed class with the usual instructions to read or study or prepare for an upcoming test and to check our companies for assigned ethic
al dilemmas. For once in my academic career, I wasn’t really listening. I sat frozen, waiting for Devon to make a move. The rest of the class hurried out, leaving us completely alone. I stared at the podium.
“Miss me?” he asked.
I grabbed his face, turning it toward me, and kissed him so he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon. “What does that tell you?”
Devon smiled. “That tells me that I should skip practice and take you back to my room.”
“But you’re not skipping practice and I have to get to JenCar.” For good measure, I kissed him again. “Even if your room sounds like more fun.”
Devon laughed. “At least let me buy you lunch before you jet off to the big bad corporate world.”
“Deal.”
We walked out of the auditorium side by side. When we stepped into the cool air, Devon took my hand.
“Is this too much PDA for you?” he asked when I tensed.
“No, this is fine.” It was intimate, comforting without being possessive or showy. “Just don’t ask for any lap dances in the student union.”
“Got it. No lap dances in public.” He tightened his arm and tugged me against his side. In a loud whisper, he asked, “But in private’s okay, right?”
I laughed and pulled his arm so his ear was close to my mouth. “If you play your cards right.”
“Oh, I will. You can bet on that.”
“Let’s stop with the betting. We’ve done that enough.”
“I only bet on a sure thing,” Devon said. “What’s going on with us, that’s a sure thing.”
I rolled my eyes, but that didn’t stop the smile from exploding across my lips.
“So I’ve been thinking about what you said, about not wanting to rush into this, and I realized something very important.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “We need to go on an official date.”
That surprised me and I stopped in my tracks. “Really? I hadn’t thought about that.”
Devon turned to face me, taking my other hand in his. “I figured if we’re going to do this slow, we’re also going to do it right. So, how about it, Olivia? Will you go on a date with me?”
“I’d love to,” I said. Despite my discomfort with PDA, I raised onto my toes and kissed him quickly. Devon grinned and turned us back toward the student union.
“Friday good?” Devon nodded at a group of guys as they passed us.
“No can do. I usually work Friday nights. And Saturday nights. And the Sunday lunch rush. My weekends are pretty packed. Next weekend I’m heading home for my little brother’s birthday.” Come to think of it, everything was so busy. I worried when having an actual date might be feasible. “What about Thursday?”
“Practice.” Devon leaned down and kissed my temple. “We’ll figure it out. We just need to get our schedules to each other. You can take time off? To come to a game?”
“Yeah, I’m sure I can. Logan’s not a complete ass.” The thought of losing tips made me nervous. “But you do have day games? Normally I work the evening shift.”
Devon rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “This won’t be easy. Between our internships, your job, my team, it’s going to be hard to get together.”
“Maybe.” I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “But anything worth having is worth fighting for, isn’t it?”
Devon’s smile could’ve melted the remaining snow on campus. “Definitely.”
“What?” I asked when he just stood there staring at me with that same goofy grin.
“I’m going to kiss you. Now.”
He bent his head and did just as he said. It was the sweetest, sexiest kiss. Despite my anti-PDA rules, I really didn’t care if anyone saw us.
We made it to the student union and through the food court. He insisted on buying. His plate was piled high with two double cheeseburgers, French fries, and corn. An All-American lunch. I’d filled mine with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, onions, sunflower seeds, and a drizzle of Italian dressing. We sat away from the rest of his team, despite a few guys yelling for Devon to join them. He nodded toward them and ushered me in the opposite direction.
“They’ll play twenty questions with you and all of them will be sexual in nature.” Devon opened his two burgers, moving the patties all under one bun in to a quadruple burger.
“And you don’t think I can handle that?” I asked as I tossed my salad together.
Devon laughed before biting into his burger. After he’d finished, he said, “I’m sure you could rip each of them apart with a few words, but neither one of us wants to deal with them in all their asshole glory. And I want you to myself for a while.”
“Seamus, you know how to say all the right things,” I teased.
“I love it when you call me by my first name,” he said with a heated gaze. He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, the heat was gone but something else was in its place. “Can I ask you something? About…Henry?” His eyes darkened at the sound of my ex’s name. I nodded, and prayed it wasn’t too intimate of a question. “Why would your father hire him?”
I really didn’t want to have this conversation with Devon, but he wasn’t going to let it go and he needed to know that Henry would always be a part of my life. “After Henry left Westland, he went back to Kerns. My father hired him to help with the books while Henry finished his degree online.” I took a bite of my salad, savoring the veggies. “My father loves Henry like another son. He…” I didn’t want to replay Christmas Eve, but I needed Devon to know the truth. “Dad invited Henry over for Christmas Eve. And he’ll probably continue to do so.”
“Wait a second, your father invited your ex-boyfriend—”
“And his pregnant fiancée.”
Devon’s eyes widened. “And his fiancée over for your family’s Christmas? That’s not awkward at all.”
I snorted. Devon didn’t flinch if he saw me. “It was. I didn’t know about her at all. Nobody had bothered to tell me.”
“What the hell? That’s not cool.” Devon finished his burger and moved onto his fries. “It had to have bothered you.”
“It did. At first, but not anymore. Dad swore he mentioned Amanda to me, but he hadn’t said a word. I think he was trying to spare my feelings, but he wasn’t thinking when he invited them over.” I sipped my water, searching my mind to change the subject. “So baseball?”
“What about it?” He nibbled on a fry.
“Why baseball?” I knew he was good, he’d told me as much. What I didn’t know was why he played.
“Baseball’s all about math,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “The trajectory of the ball, the angle of the mound, the speed of the bat. It’s basic physics really. Each problem has a different solution. When a guy comes to the plate, I have to figure out what pitch to throw, how fast, and where based on what I know about him from Hummel’s scouting report. McElroy, our backstop, helps guide me. But it’s not so simple. Maybe the guy’s got a better swing on balls to the inside of the plate. I have to make sure I hit my target on the outside. Maybe the guy’s great at hitting the curve, but my curve isn’t working that night. I have to figure out what pitch I can throw to get him out.”
“It’s a ball and a bat. How hard can it be?” I asked, not trying to sound bitchy but failing. “I mean, it’s just a game.”
“Have you ever watched a game?”
I shifted in my seat. He had a point. I’d been to a few of Jake’s games, but it was little league and I was always watching Bradley. “Not really.”
“Watch a game and you’ll see.” He leaned in. “You’ll see the math, the calculations, the instant problem solving. And you’ll be hooked.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I grinned as I refilled my fork with lettuce.
“Usually, but we think alike about a lot of things. Trust me on this.”
“No promises.” I flipped a cherry tomato toward him. “Tell me something uniquely Seamus about the game.”
‘Okay, my number is 52
. I’ve worn it since little league.” He picked up the tomato and popped it in his mouth. “My uncle wore it when he pitched one game in Triple-A. That was the closest he ever got to the show. He was sent back to Double-A and never got called up again. So I wear it for him. He rarely misses a game, too.”
“That’s sweet.” I reached across the table and put my hand over his.
“He taught me how to pitch.” Devon smiled then glanced at his watch.
“What time is it?”
“Time to go. I’ve got practice and you have to get to work.” Devon bussed our table and walked out with me. “This was nice.”
“You mean actually hanging out like a couple? Yes, it was.” Devon took my hand again as we walked toward the fountain. He nodded in the direction of Donaldson Hall. “I’m going that way.”
“And I’m going the opposite.”
“I’ll call you later?” he asked, taking both my hands and bringing them to his chest.
I smiled and lifted onto my tiptoes to kiss him. “Yes, please.”
“This is gonna work,” he whispered.
Devon grinned and backed away from me toward Donaldson. When he finally turned, he took off in a run and pumped his fist in the air. I laughed as I headed toward my apartment. It absolutely was going to work. How long was the only question.
Chapter Nineteen
I pored over the files all afternoon without any interaction from Lawler. He barely grunted at me when I stopped by his office after I first arrived. The only person who acknowledged my presence was the janitor. I was glad to leave at five.
My phone lit with a text before I started the truck.
Meet @ CuppaJo’s 7?
Paige’s text made me smile. We hadn’t talked much since her prowl.
Sure.
After dinner and a quick shower, I checked my phone. Nothing from Devon. My heart sank, but I shook it off. He said he’d call later. Later didn’t necessarily mean the same day or even the next. Later could mean a week or a month, although I doubted he’d wait a month. And I could always call him, too. I wasn’t used to starting a relationship. I’d only been in one after all. It was definitely a topic of conversation for tonight’s coffee with Paige.
