by Megan Green
“If you think this is thick, you just wait until—”
I hold my hands up, a sputtering laugh escaping my lips. “Ah, there’s the Brandon I know.”
He gives me a wink, handing me the rose before taking my other hand and leading me into the other room. I didn’t notice it when I walked in, but there’s a small table set up in the corner, two candlesticks and an empty vase in the center. Brandon takes the rose from my fingers and drops it into the vase. The soft glow of the flames illuminates the petals, giving them an almost ethereal brilliance.
I’m still transfixed by their beauty as Brandon clears his throat, pulling out my chair and gesturing for me to sit. He slides my chair in for me before moving around the table and taking his own seat. I raise a brow at him.
He gives me an impish smile. “What?”
I look around the bookstore. “What is all this?”
He looks around with me, his eyes coming to rest on mine. “Dinner.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve gathered that. But why? Why all the fuss?”
He levels his gaze on me, all traces of his usual humor gone when he answers, “Because something tells me it’s been a while since a man made a fuss over you. And that’s a damn shame.”
Margie steps out from the back at that moment, saving me from having to come up with a response. She has two plates in her hands and a gigantic smile plastered on her face.
“Hey, you two,” she says, her voice drawn out and way too excited about a simple dinner. But then again, candles and a private dinner for two aren’t exactly simple.
What the hell is he up to?
Margie sets the food down, not even bothering to ask about Lexi and Ian, which is so not like her. After Lexi moved next door to Margie, the older woman sort of took Lexi under her wing. I don’t think a single time has gone by that I’ve seen her and she hasn’t brought Lexi up.
But this time, instead of the usual twenty questions, she just smiles and backs out of the room.
I shoot another questioning glance at Brandon.
“You need to stop looking at me like that. I’m starting to get a complex,” he jokes.
I smile. “Sorry, but…”
“But?”
“But who are you pod people, and what did you do with the real Brandon and Margie?”
He throws his head back as he laughs, his defined Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I notice there’s about a day’s worth of scruff covering his face and neck, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like against my skin.
A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine all the places I’d like to feel that stubble.
No. Bad, Liv. Remember, sooner or later, he’s going to go back to where he came from. Don’t fall for his tricks.
I square my shoulders, attempting to take back control of the situation. I pick up my fork, eyeing the food before me. “Is this…”
“Margie’s chicken and dumplings. She said it was your favorite.”
“You had Margie make my favorite meal?”
I’m genuinely shocked at the gesture. I expected to look down and find takeout from the diner or maybe even from a restaurant in Grover. I sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to go to all this trouble.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I quickly blink them away.
Damn pregnancy hormones.
“When I called Charlie to arrange all this, he suggested I call Margie about the food. As soon as she heard what I was planning, she insisted. She even let me help.”
My brows shoot up. “You cooked?” I can’t help the shocked tone that comes out of my mouth.
“Well, supervised was more like it. But she did let me lick the spoon.”
I giggle as I spear a bite of chicken with my fork.
“So, tell me how it went with Charlie,” he says, tucking into his own food. “From how enthusiastic he was about helping me set everything up, I’d guess it went fairly well.”
Charlie has been nothing but supportive from the moment the words spilled from my lips. Instead of admonishing me for being careless, he pulled me into his arms. His eyes filled with tears when he finally pulled back and looked at me.
“You’re not mad?” I asked, each word laced with worry.
“Mad?” he questioned, seemingly stunned by my words. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
“But I’m not married. And I’m supposed to be taking over the store.”
Charlie took my face in his hands, his thumbs running across my cheeks to wipe away my tears. “And you still will. This doesn’t change anything, Livvy. The store is yours. You’re going to be an amazing owner after I hang up my hat. And you’re going to be an even more amazing mother.”
I leaned into his shoulder, letting my tears fall and soak the fabric of his shirt. “How can you be sure? You saw the example I had growing up. How can you be sure I won’t end up exactly like her?”
Charlie pulled away, his hand moving under my chin and lifting my eyes to his. “You listen to me, Livvy Girl. There are a lot of different types of people in this world. There are good people, and then there are those who have lost their way. Your mother happens to be one of the latter. But she did do one thing right. She gave birth to one hell of a daughter. And that girl is one of the strongest, most genuinely good people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Your mother might’ve made a lot of mistakes in her life, but you were not one of them.”
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear his words until that very moment. Knowing Charlie was on my side and in my corner eased so much of the burden I’d been feeling. And I knew that, despite whatever mistakes I made, he’d always love me, and that made me feel like I could take on the world.
Now, with Brandon sitting before me and this gorgeous setting surrounding us, I can’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.
Maybe Brandon was meant to come into my life and give me this beautiful gift. Maybe being a mother is what I was always meant to be.
I still don’t know what the future holds for the two of us, but I do know that I’ll never again resent the night we spent together.
I give Brandon a quick overview of my discussion with Charlie—leaving out the parts about my mother, of course. I’m still not ready to go there with him yet. He’s making one hell of an effort to show me he can change, that he’s willing to stick around, but I can’t bring myself to completely open myself to him. Not yet.
He chats about his road games as we eat, throwing in a question here and there about the store so as not to monopolize the conversation. I answer cheerily, genuinely enjoying his company and the conversation. In fact, I’m enjoying it so much, I’m a little sad when I realize we’re just about done, and it’ll soon be time to leave.
As if he can read the sorrow on my face, Brandon tosses his napkin on his plate and stands, extending his hand to me when he gets to his feet. I give him a quizzical look.
“How do you feel about dessert?”
Brandon wraps me in a blanket despite my protest that I’m not cold.
“Trust me,” he says with a wink, leading me through the store and to the back door.
My mouth drops open when he pushes it open. “You have got to be kidding me.”
An old-fashioned black carriage is sitting just beyond the door, a single white horse strapped to the front. Charlie is sitting in the driver’s seat, beaming down at me as he takes in my shocked expression.
“Too much?” Brandon asks timidly, his voice only inches from my ear.
I nod. “Way, way too much.”
He deflates. “I thought it might be. I just wanted it to be special. And, as cliché as it sounds, a horse-drawn carriage just seemed romantic. I can get rid of it though. Just give me a minute.”
I grab hold of his arm. “Are you crazy? It’s a freaking horse-drawn carriage. It’s too much, but you’re insane if you think I’m not going to climb up there and enjoy every second of it.”
Brandon grins widel
y before helping me inside. He settles himself next to me, his hands moving to the seat across from us to a tray. When he lifts the lid of a little metal pot, I realize what he meant about dessert.
Fondue.
We spend the first few minutes of the ride dipping various fruits, marshmallows, and cakes into the chocolate, laughing as it gets everywhere but in our mouths.
Brandon’s eyes narrow on my lips, his mouth parting slightly as they linger. “You’ve got something right about here,” he says, gesturing to his own lips.
My tongue darts out to clear the chocolate, and I can hear the low groan in his throat. Somehow, over the course of the ride, I’ve slid over onto his side, his hard body providing extra warmth from the cold evening air.
“Did I get it?” I ask, blinking up at him from under my lashes.
He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.
I know I shouldn’t. I know I need to drop my face, find a napkin, and put some distance between Brandon and myself. But, once again, I can’t seem to help myself around Brandon.
I lift my face to his, gently licking my lips as my eyes lock on his. “Well then, I guess I could use some help.”
My words don’t even have time to register on his face before I press my lips to his.
Chapter 12
Brandon
These road trips are really starting to be a pain in my ass.
Nearly a decade into my career, and I can finally say that all this traveling is finally catching up to me.
When I was younger, I lived for the days on the road. Seeing all the different cities, meeting all the different people, banging all the different women…
You get the picture.
But, now, each day out on the road becomes another day Liv could kick me to the curb. Each moment I spend away from Maple Lake could be the moment she decides I’m not worth the hassle. And every single second I’m away from those lips is another second for her to regret her decision to let me back in.
The other night was amazing. I’ll admit, I went a bit overboard. I thought her eyes were going to bug out of her head when I opened that door, and she saw the fucking carriage. I thought I’d made a colossal mistake, reading the few things I knew about her completely wrong, assuming she’d enjoy a cheesy carriage ride through town to something more simple, like dinner and a movie.
Lucky for me, Liv is every ounce the paradox I made her out to be. She’s feisty and derisive, her no-bullshit attitude is one of the first things that attracted me to her. But she’s also the biggest bookworm I’ve ever met, her entire life dedicated to that bookstore. And what bookworm didn’t grow up, wishing she lived inside one of those fairy tales she read every night?
I took a chance, and it paid off big time.
I can still feel her lips on mine, the soft pressure lingering long after we parted. They were gentle, delicately pressing against mine, as if testing the waters. I was ready to dive in headfirst, but I managed to hold back, letting her take it at her own pace.
The kiss was so different from our first night together. But the way her body melted against mine as she explored my mouth told me it was so much more. It wasn’t about pleasure. It wasn’t a frenzied fervor of tangled tongues and clashing teeth. It was only a kiss.
The sweetest fucking kiss of my entire life.
Carter claps me on the back, pulling me from my thoughts, as the Uber driver pulls up outside of the nightclub. We won again tonight, officially making us the hottest team in the MLB, and to celebrate, we’re all going out for a drink.
Tag decided to stay back at the hotel, opting to call Lexi instead of joining the rest of us. Seeing him plop down on the bed beside mine in our shared room, it was the first time I ever wished I could just stay in after a win.
But I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I tried to get out of going out. Tag had already started in on the questions about me and Liv. The last thing I needed was for him to get the whole team involved.
I walk into the club with Carter, several of our other teammates dispersing around us as soon as we hit the floor. I watch as each of them immediately sets their sights on a woman, not giving a shit if she’s there with someone else. Or that their own wives are waiting at home.
It makes my stomach turn a little, thinking about it, which is crazy because, a month ago, I would’ve been right there with them.
I hang back with Carter, glad I have the kid to chill with tonight. The two of us move to a table against the back wall, and a waitress comes over to take our drink orders.
We sit and people-watch until she returns with our beers, and I eye Carter as he takes a long pull from his. I study his face, deciding it’s time I know a little more about my new friend.
“So, what’s your deal, kid?” I ask as soon as the bottle leaves his lips.
He sputters a little, setting the bottle down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wh-what? What do you mean?”
“I mean, what is your deal? You move out here, barely old enough to buy that drink, and become one of the youngest starting pitchers in recent history. You should be living the high life, taking advantage of the bevy of beautiful asses throwing themselves your way each night. Yet you’re sitting over here with me, drinking shitty beer and acting like just the thought of a woman touching you gives you hives.”
He shakes his head. “You’re full of it, Jeffers. I have plenty of fun.” His eyebrows lift on the last word, and I think it’s an attempt at an innuendo or some shit, but the kid fails miserably.
I crack a smile, hanging my head as I chuckle softly under my breath. “Carter, you couldn’t be any greener if you sprouted roots and planted yourself right alongside the other veggies in the garden. You ain’t fooling anyone, kid. So, just tell me. What gives? Is there someone back home?”
The way his throat bobs at my mention of home tells me I’ve hit the nail right on the head.
“You said you were single though,” I pry, knowing he’s not going to spill the beans without a little goading.
“I am.”
I watch him, brows raised and eyes wide, waiting for him to continue. When he picks up his beer and takes another swig, I smack my hand down on the table.
“Oh, come on. You’ve gotta give me more than that.”
Carter shrugs. “Don’t know what you want me to tell you. I’m single. End of story.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yet you don’t deny there’s someone back home. An unrequited love perhaps? Did some inbred bitch break my boy’s heart?”
Carter is from a small suburb in Wyoming, and while I know it’s not actually the hick town I’m making it out to be, I still can’t resist giving him shit whenever I can.
His eyes flash to mine, thinly veiled fury within their depths. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeffers, so just shut your mouth.”
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest as I study him. Carter’s nostrils flare as he pushes from the table, mumbling something about having to hit the head before storming toward the restroom. I don’t miss the woman who tries to stop him on his way, his anger quickly fading as he stops to talk to her. A charming smile crosses his face as he stares down at the blonde, and I start to wonder if he’s going to try to prove me wrong and take her home. But my concerns are short-lived when she runs her hand up his chest. He stops the movement, giving her another smile as he removes her hand from his body. She looks crestfallen, but she doesn’t make a scene as she turns and leaves. Carter continues his trek to the restroom as if nothing happened.
When I was his age, I’d have had that woman pressed against the restroom door, my cock buried deep inside her before the lock was even latched.
I smile as I watch Carter disappear inside the restroom. He all but confirmed there’s someone he loves back home. And, considering how defensive he got when I called her an inbred bitch, I’m willing to bet those feelings haven’t dulled a single bit since he left town.
A weird sense of awe swells i
n my chest. Carter is a million miles away from whomever this girl is. And, based on what he says, she’s not even his in the way he wants her to be. Yet he remains faithful. I haven’t seen the kid with a single solitary woman the entire time he’s been with the team.
If Carter can stay true to some chick he doesn’t even have, then I can do the same for Liv.
She hasn’t come right out and said it, but I know she worries when I’m on the road. I mean, I can’t say I blame her. My track record isn’t exactly one I’m proud of. Well, not anymore anyway.
But none of that appeals to me now. The thought of going home with one of these random women holds no allure, not when I think of the woman currently waiting for me back in Maple Lake.
We haven’t even slept together again yet. But it doesn’t matter. Just spending time in her company is more fulfilling than any number of hours with a nameless face.
Liv is the type of woman I could fall for.
The sudden realization strikes me hard, my stomach bottoming out as I think about what this means.
I could fall for this woman. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought those words, and that only further solidifies their truth. I’m not one to throw around emotion. Hell, until Liv, just the thought of feelings made me twitchy.
All that has changed though, thanks to one pixie-like woman and the tiny life she’s carrying inside her.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone rings. I eagerly pull it out of my pocket, hoping like hell it’s Liv calling to congratulate me on another win. She’s been more forthcoming since our date the other night, even going so far as to call and text me herself without any sort of provocation from me.
My face falls though when I see another familiar name flash across the screen.
Jayne.
Fuck.
I haven’t talked to her since that disaster of epic proportions a few weeks ago. I never did send those flowers. Or that dildo. Tag told me to get to Maple Lake shortly thereafter, and the rest is history. I can honest to God say I haven’t even thought of Jayne since the night I left her place.
