by Megan Green
A rustle pulls me from my thoughts as Charlie sidles up beside me. I turn to look at him, but his eyes are fixed firmly on Brandon.
“I’m surprised to see him back here so soon. From what I heard, he only makes it out this way maybe once or twice a year.”
I nod. “Yeah, it was a surprise to me, too.”
“Must’ve seen something he liked,” Charlie says, his tone light and airy as he continues to watch Brandon up on the ladder.
I turn to look at him, unable to suppress the coy smile spreading across my face. “And just what might that be, Charlie?”
He shrugs. “Heck if I know.”
I bump him with my elbow as I laugh, and he slides his arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side.
“I like him, Livvy. He seems like a good guy. Lord knows, you could do a lot worse with the options you have in this town.”
I raise my brows. “Why, Charlie, are you trying to play matchmaker again? Need I remind you what happened last time?” I ask, referencing the only time he tried to set me up on a date with the nephew of one of the old women in town.
He showed up a half hour late, talked on his phone the whole time, and had the nerve to ask the waitress for her number right in front of me. Needless to say, there wasn’t a second date.
“No, no. I promised you I’d never do that again. I just like seeing you happy.”
A laugh sputters out of my mouth. “Happy? He’s been here twelve hours, Charlie. We’re not exactly skipping down the aisle together.”
Charlie gives me a knowing look. “Maybe not. But, in the forty-five minutes you two have been in the store, I’ve seen you smile more than I have in the last year combined. Maybe two.”
The smile drops from my face, and I instantly realize he’s right. My cheeks ache from being stretched for so long. In fact, I don’t think my grin has dropped since Brandon and I left the house until this very moment.
He makes me laugh with his crazy stories. He makes me grin with his weird sense of humor. And, above all, he makes me feel…special. When Brandon is speaking to me, I feel like I’m the only woman in the world. He gives me his complete, undivided attention, something I haven’t had in…well, ever.
I am so screwed.
I still haven’t told Charlie about the baby yet, so he has no clue why Brandon is really back in town. I mentioned this to Brandon on the way over to the store, and he agreed he wouldn’t bring it up until I was ready. But I need to tell Charlie. Tomorrow evening, I’ll invite him over for the spaghetti dinner I was planning before Brandon showed up, and then I’ll drop the bomb.
But looking at him as he walks over to the base of the ladder, giving Brandon directions on something he was about to do, I have to wonder if maybe he won’t be disappointed in me after all. When Charlie turns back and gives me a little wink, it only furthers my suspicions.
Charlie likes Brandon. Well, Charlie likes everyone. But he doesn’t let just anybody climb up on the ladder in his shop and touch his precious books. It took me years to earn that privilege. But, when Brandon insisted on doing the task for me—he didn’t like the idea of me being on a ladder in my condition—Charlie didn’t protest at all. And, now, here Charlie is, giving Brandon pointers and acting like he has been here all along.
It is like I am living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. And everyone is in on some inside plot, and I’ve been left completely in the dark.
We spend another few hours at the store, Charlie and Brandon kicking back in the chairs Charlie and I set up in the corner for people who like to linger, while I head behind the desk and work on some inventory. I steal glances at them every so often, finding it harder and harder to focus on my task the more I hear them laughing and joking with one another. When I finally finish and announce we can leave, Charlie looks genuinely sad.
“But we were just getting to know each other.” He starts to sulk.
Brandon stands and claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. P. I’ll be sure to stop by and see you when I’m in town again in a few weeks.”
Charlie’s face brightens, and I don’t miss the subtle glance he shoots at me.
“Oh, coming back so soon, are you?”
Brandon nods. “Yes, sir. I plan to come back as often as I can as long as this one here will let me.”
I blush when both of their gazes turn to me. “And, on that note, we should probably head out. We’re going to be late.”
I have no clue where we’re going next, but Brandon told me he had reservations for us in Grover, the closest thing we have to a big city for about a hundred miles. It’s not exactly Denver, but compared to Maple Lake, it’s a metropolis. The reservations are at two, and if we don’t get on the road soon, there’s no way we’ll make it on time.
Brandon glances down at his watch and nods. “You’re right. We’d better get going.” He holds out his fist for Charlie. “Later, Mr. P.”
My jaw hits the floor when my sweet, little old Charlie, a man who refuses to accept that this is no longer the 1950s, actually reaches out and bumps his own fist against Brandon’s.
Yep, this is definitely The Twilight Zone.
“That was so much fun,” I breathe out in a rush as we climb back into his truck.
When we arrived at the arcade, I was a bit taken aback. When he’d said reservations, I’d expected it would be to some fancy restaurant or tickets to a play or something.
Instead, we just spent the last two hours playing laser tag with a bunch of ten year olds.
Brandon laughs. “That was one of my favorite places to go when I was younger. I actually grew up just outside of Grover. In the opposite direction of Maple Lake.”
I didn’t know that about him, but looking at him now, it makes sense. Why else would a hotshot baseball player end up owning a lake house in Middle of Nowhere, Colorado? I mean, it is a gorgeous house, and the country is breathtaking out here. But you’d think someone like him would choose Aspen over a place like Maple Lake.
“I have one question though,” I say as he turns the ignition and begins backing out of the parking spot.
“Shoot.”
“You said you had reservations. Why exactly does one need reservations at an arcade?”
Brandon chuckles. “You try getting in there on a Saturday without one. Besides, have you ever played laser tag with two people? It’s no fun at all. I wanted to make sure we’d have people to play with.”
“And you thought a bunch of ten year olds would work just fine? Didn’t they think that was creepy? A couple of almost thirty year olds wanting to play with a bunch of kids?”
Brandon shakes his head. “Nah, Paul knows me. Besides, when you offer to pay for the kid’s birthday party in exchange for being able to crash it, people tend to be a little more…accepting.”
I smile, the knowledge that he paid for all that—including the eight large pizzas and endless pitchers of soda, I’m sure—warming my heart. And he did it all just so he could spend some time with me doing something he loved.
A sudden pang of sadness pulls at my stomach when I realize he’s leaving again in the morning. I was so caught up in our afternoon together that I didn’t even have time to remind myself of the fact that he’d soon be gone. I hadn’t once reminded myself to guard my heart and not let him get too close. I simply just…had fun.
It has been way too damn long since that happened.
Brandon pulls out of the parking lot but doesn’t turn in the direction of Maple Lake.
“Now, where are we going?” I ask, my amusement and anticipation leaking out into my voice.
“You didn’t think I’d bring you all this way and not feed you, did you?”
He winks, and it sets off a flurry of butterflies in my chest.
Yep, I am so screwed.
Chapter 10
Brandon
One of the things I’ve always prided myself on is my ability to block out everything else in my life, no matter how big, and focus on the game.
> That time I thought I might have the herp?
Cool as a cucumber come game time.
The day I found out my piece-of-shit father had finally bitten the big one?
Rolled right off my shoulders as soon as I stepped out onto the field.
But finding out you’re only a few short months away from becoming a father yourself…
That’s a little harder to ignore.
To say I’ve been distracted these past two days is putting it mildly. Coach all but handed my ass to me on a silver platter at practice earlier this afternoon after I swung at a high one. It hadn’t even been anywhere near the strike zone, but my mind had been so far out in left field that I really didn’t even see the thing at all.
We’ve managed to pull out the win in both games since I left Maple Lake, but that sure as shit didn’t have much to do with me. Thankfully, I haven’t completely embarrassed myself, managing at least a base hit each time I stepped up to the plate. But it is a far cry from my usual ball busters.
I might have physically left Maple Lake two days ago, but my mind stayed behind.
With Liv.
We were only able to spend one full day together before I had to head back out on the road, but it was enough to leave me wanting more.
More of her smile. More of her laugh.
More of her gorgeous fucking body.
She didn’t let me kiss her when I dropped her off after our date in Grover, instead coyly smiling at me as she pushed open the door, swinging her hips from side to side as she stepped inside.
She tried to act all innocent and sweet, but something told me she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew the effect she had on me. And she was using every inch of it to her advantage.
I went home that night and got acquainted with my shower and my right hand.
Very acquainted.
Watching Liv as she let go of her defensiveness and just enjoyed herself was enchanting. The woman is always beautiful. But with her head thrown back in laughter as a prepubescent kid tried to take her hostage was something else entirely. I’d never seen someone look so…alive.
Liv intrigues me; that much is true. She has since the moment I laid eyes on her. But spending just a few hours with her—doing something other than the horizontal tango—has shown me just how complex she actually is. She is snarky as fuck ninety-nine percent of the time. But there is a softer side to her, too, a side I have a feeling she doesn’t let people see very often.
And I won’t rest until I break through those walls and see her for everything she truly is. Something tells me I might not recover from the sight.
Bring it on.
My head falls back on the headrest of the bus seat as we head back to the hotel for the night. It’s been a long-ass day, and I’m looking forward to nothing more than crashing face-first onto my bed and not moving until dawn.
But, before I can do that, I need to text Liv.
Just the thought of talking to her breathes a spark of life into my exhausted bones. A small smile passes over my lips as I pull my phone from my duffel.
ME: Sup, Tink?
I wonder if she might still be at work and therefore not able to answer my message right away. It’s seven p.m. in Maple Lake, but with the hours she told me she’d been pulling at the store in preparation for Charlie’s retirement, it’s not completely unfeasible to think she might still be there.
I’m going to have to talk to her about that eventually. It’s not good for her or the baby to be putting in such long hours.
I suppress the thought, knowing that me trying to tell Liv how to run her life will go over about as well as a polar bear in hell. She’s stubborn as fuck, but even she can’t deny that it would be better for the baby if she rested. At least until she gets further along.
I see the familiar bouncing dots, indicating she’s typing out a response, and the grin I’ve been wearing since pulling out my phone widens.
Goddamn. When did I turn into a chick?
I straighten my lips, hoping none of my teammates saw me beaming like a schoolgirl. It doesn’t last long though, the corners of my mouth turning up as soon as I read her message.
LIV: Who says sup nowadays? Have I suddenly been transported back to 1999?
I chuckle softly. Leave it to Liv to completely disregard the fact that a major league baseball player is texting her after a win, instead busting my balls for using an outdated expression.
ME: Hope you like frosted tips. And puka shells. I’m all about the puka, baby.
LIV: *eye roll*
ME: Don’t hate me ’cause you ain’t me.
I try to imagine her sitting there, on her couch, smiling as she reads my stupid response. She might not be the type of girl I’m used to, but even she isn’t immune to my irresistible charm.
Or my overpowering obnoxiousness, as Tag likes to say.
Tomato, tomahto.
The three dots appear again, and I hold my breath as I wait to see what she’s going to say.
LIV: Congrats on the win tonight.
Huh. I didn’t expect her to bring up the game, let alone actually watch it. An overwhelming sense of pride floods through my chest as I think about her tuning in just to watch me play.
And then a crushing sense of disappointment takes over when I realize she watched the worst performance of pretty much my entire career.
I wince but decide not to bring it up. Liv isn’t exactly a baseball fan, so it’s not like she could tell the difference.
I hope.
I shove down my disappointment and type out my response.
ME: Thanks. Winning never gets old.
LIV: I suppose you don’t have much experience with losing.
I want to text back a snappy response, something about scoring and winning and a bunch of other bullshit like I normally would. But something tells me Liv isn’t just talking about baseball.
ME: You’d be surprised…
LIV: I’m shocked. Did THE Brandon Jeffers just admit that he wasn’t perfect?
I chuckle again, glad we’re back on safer territory.
ME: Don’t let the word get out. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.
LIV: Oh, yes, I know all about your reputation.
Well, fuck. That wasn’t the right thing to say.
I try to think of something to salvage the situation, but I come up blank. So, instead, I type out three simple words.
ME: How are you?
A few minutes go by without a response, and I start to wonder if she’s just going to blow me off, the reminder of my past too much for her to deal with right now. I lean my head back again and close my eyes.
It doesn’t make any sense, but I want Liv to like me. No, more than that. I want her to want me. To need me. To ask me to stick around and help her raise our baby.
I could lie to myself and say it’s just the baby that’s making me feel this way, but it would be exactly that. A lie. Because, no matter how much I try to deny it, Liv means something to me. I don’t know how or why. I don’t understand how, after spending such a short amount of time with her, I can already tell things with her are different.
My phone vibrates in my lap, and my eyes snap open.
LIV: I’m good. Charlie is on his way over for dinner. I’m going to break the news about the baby. So, I might be unreachable for a bit. He doesn’t like when I have my phone out when he’s here. But thank you for checking up on me :)
My stomach does a little flip at that smiley face. Once again, two little characters from her feel like a win.
ME: Good luck with Charlie. Let me know how it goes.
LIV: I’ll try to call you tomorrow. Sleep tight.
I mentally fist pump, feeling like I could get up and run a dozen miles with the renewed energy her text gives me.
ME: You, too, Tink.
A spark of something ignites in my head as I come down from my high. By the time I’m back in my hotel room, my exhaustion has set back in, but I have a fully formed plan.
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I need to make sure Liv sees just how serious I am about trying to make this work.
I just need my man Charlie to help me out.
Chapter 11
Liv
“Okay, Charlie. What’s the big emergency? Why did I have to drag my ass down here on my night off and miss The Bachelor?”
I shut the door to Turn the Page, locking it behind me. It’s about five minutes before we’re technically closed, but if Charlie’s call was any indication, something urgent is up, and we can’t take any more customers tonight anyway.
I turn and look around the store, confused at what I find.
The lights are off, and tall white candles are placed around the room, their glow the only light in the otherwise dark space. A brief pang of apprehension floods through me as I think about fire being around all these books, but when Brandon steps out from the back room, all worry flees my mind.
He’s dressed in a dark suit, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. It gives his otherwise polished appearance a bit of a casual look, which is good because, when I look down at my own T-shirt and jeans, I feel severely underdressed.
Brandon strides across the room, a single white rose in his hand. He brushes the soft petals across my nose when he reaches me, causing heat to flood my cheeks. I smile as I drop my eyes to the floor.
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Jeffers?” I say playfully, bringing my gaze back up to his.
