Shadow Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 1)

by Taeuffer, Pam

  I put my hands up to stop the force in front of me.

  “First of all, I’m no one’s girlfriend. Secondly, Jerry’s jacket is fine and he’ll offer it in his own good time. And he’s a man by the way. Don’t call him a boy. Why don’t you use it to take care of your girlfriend over there?” I nodded to where the blonde lady stood only minutes before.

  She was no longer there.

  “You say you’re not with anyone, and yet a woman is in the parking lot tugging on your arm? I'm not stupid. I know you can't get in here unless you're on someone's list—in her case, your list. Well you know what? Maybe I’m just playing my own game . . . like you as a matter-of-fact.”

  Ryan stepped in so close it was as if my skin was being shocked with the static electricity between us. It’s over. I give. That chest is going to crush me.

  It was as if warm liquid rippled through my body. Ooh, he's too close. Back away, but please, don’t back away.

  “Nicky.” His cheek brushed against my face. “I see the chills all over your skin. I know you’re cold. This doesn’t mean anything except that I’d like to see you warm. Please put it on.” He raised his head and looked in my eyes in such a way that made me feel as if we were the only two people there. This was definitely not a boy with peach fuzz on his face. His afternoon beard told me he was a man.

  He had my attention.

  “Okay.” I wanted to give into him.

  “Put your arms in back of you and I’ll slip it on.” He held out the jacket while standing in front of me. His chest touched my breasts as I slipped each arm inside the sleeves. He never looked away from my eyes. His wry, mischievous grin was like a siren that blared, “I’m coming for you.” I was sure he sold his soul to wear a smile that seductive. No wonder women fell at his feet!

  “Thank you.” It feels nice to be taken care of. How can he make me feel this way? I hardly know him. Oh? Don't you, Nick? Shut up, Evil Twin. I don't need you causing me more problems. You got me into this mess. Yeeesssss.

  “You're welcome. I look forward to seeing you wear my jacket more often.” He stepped back and wore a warm smile.

  I felt a deceptive calm, as if I were in the eye of a storm. His voice, like some bit of soft music, played in my ear.

  “Bye, Nicky,” he whispered. “I’ll be over to get that later.”

  Later? What?

  He walked back to his fans. I didn’t move until Jerry finished getting autographs.

  “Look!" He showed me his glove, which several players had signed. "I got . . . hey, whose jacket?”

  “Ryan Tilton's.” Don’t blow a cork.

  “You didn't take mine but you took his? Huh," he grunted.

  "Don't make an issue out of nothing," I snapped. "You didn't even offer your jacket to me, so . . ."

  "I don’t know about him, Nick. Anyway, do you wanna go to a movie or something?” He was obviously frustrated and confused. I didn’t want him feeling that way.

  It wasn't that I was trying to play them both. I didn't even know what it meant to play with one. My fear of being abandoned kept me from committing to one person even when it came to my girlfriends. I thought the more people I had around me, the better my chances were to have a friend who wouldn't leave. Having more friends meant security, being able to stay away from home longer because of being busy, while not getting too close to anyone—or looking too closely at myself.

  “What I’d like to do is hang out in your bedroom.” I slipped my arm through his. “Is that okay?”

  “Is that okay? Yeah, that’s okay.” His eyes lit up with a loveliness that seemed new. “I promised to return a bat I borrowed to one of my friends so I need to go to his house first. And I have to clean my room a little. It’s a mess. I'm embarrassed to have you see it. I’ll leave the back door open for you. Are you hopping the fences or should I come to pick you up, or . . .”

  “I’ll meet you at your place.” I giggled and kissed his cheek. You’re talking fast like I do.

  We’d grown up in a four-square-block area where all the back yards were next to each other, separated by fences on each side. We hopped from one yard to the next to get to the friend’s home we wanted. It was heaven for me. Whenever I needed to escape, one hop and I was gone.

  “I’ll either take my parents’ car or call you to pick me up so I don’t kill myself climbing fences in the dark or get shot wandering the backyards at night.”

  I laughed and started to walk away. He caught my hand, swung my body around to his, and gave me a nice, long, kiss.

  “See ya.” He walked away with a smile on his face.

  His expression made me feel sweet, like we were in a small town going steady. We were two people, only eighteen, enjoying the togetherness of our last carefree summer.

  As I waited for the streetcar, the feeling from wearing Ryan’s jacket and the sweetness of Jerry’s crush filled me. I tried to imagine a scenario where I could hang out with both boys but my daydreams were interrupted.

  A disturbance began behind me.

  I turned to see what was happening.

  Ryan.

  He was making his way through the crowd while they were trying to talk with him and get an autograph or photo.

  "Not now," he said, stepping onto the platform where I waited. I don’t even want to look at him. “Nicky, let me give you a ride home.”

  “No thanks. I’m fine taking the streetcar home.”

  He took my hand.

  “I’d like to take you," he said firmly.

  “Ryan, I’m fine and—”

  “Please let me take you home,” he persisted.

  Just go, Nick. He’ll never give up.

  The way he pressed for answers was actually one of the things I liked about him, but being on the other end of them was rough. As we walked away from the transit stop, it seemed as if we were on display. The eyes of many were upon us as we reentered the player’s lot. Thankfully Darrell and Matt were nowhere in sight.

  “I’m used to taking care of myself. I’ll be okay. In fact, here. You can have your jacket back.” I tried to take it off, but he held my hand close to his body.

  “You keep it for a while,” he commanded, gripping my hand more firmly as we walked to his car. He opened the passenger door of his Mustang, and after I got in, I immediately tossed his jacket in the back seat.

  You keep it yourself and I’ll do what I want.

  He sat ready to grip the wheel. Before he had a chance to speak I stated my case.

  “You know, you can’t just take me, whatever your reason. I’m a person and I have feelings and a say-so. I know my way around public transportation and I have plans tonight and—"

  “What are you doing?” he asked angrily.

  “I don’t have to explain—"

  “What are your clothes about?” A note of anger was sewn into his voice.

  “You don’t have any say about the way I dress,” I pushed back. “I don’t appreciate—"

  “Oh, that's brilliant, Nicky. Those assholes that attacked your sister may still be around. Then what? You're going to stand strong against men like them?”

  “I know what I’m doing. I wanted to—"

  “Where was she approached?” he interrupted again, his expression serious.

  “Approached?” I repeated sarcastically. "What?"

  “When did the attack happen?” he asked. “Where was she?”

  “Two blocks from home.”

  “What time of day was it?” His questions were pointed.

  “Um, daylight,” I answered, ashamed and feeling as if I'd disrespected all that my sister had gone through.

  “Use your head.” He looked at me quickly and then focused maneuvering through the pedestrians and fans congregating at the gate. “You dress like this and then walk home alone? What are you trying to prove?”

  I don’t know what my point was, but at the time it made sense.

  “Quit trying to test my reaction and stop playing games,” he said firmly. �
��We need to talk. I want to go somewhere quiet. What are you plans?”

  "They can wait." What are you saying, Nick? You're giving in? Is this what you want? "Where should we go?"

  "Somewhere we won't be interrupted."

  He turned onto King Street and made a U-turn, heading toward the coast. I stared out the window, stunned that this man was taking me somewhere.

  Chapter 25

  Ryan Tells Me What He Knows

  As we drove out of the city, I watched the people standing at bus stops, studied the designs of old buildings, and billboard advertisements whiz by us. One in particular caught my attention, a picture of a woman's body—it actually formed a beer bottle.

  People don't actually fall for this crap, do they?

  "What do you think of that ad?" I blurted.

  "What ad?"

  "The one of a woman's body formed into a beer bottle." The disgust in my voice was obvious.

  "Bullshit."

  "Good."

  "You approve?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes. I can't believe you didn't see it. You really didn't?"

  "Nah. I don't look at that stuff. Now if you were up there . . . I'd probably crash the car too stunned to look away."

  "Oh sure you would. With all the women you have after you?"

  "I'm only concerned about you."

  Ryan was demanding in the way he took me with him, but he also had a contrasting softness. It seemed he had a need to protect me and my family. It made me want more of him. Even so, I knew I had to guard my feelings.

  The way I would reveal myself had to be planned and controlled. I'd shared myself too easily on our visits to Yountville and I imagined I'd need every advantage possible with this man. So once again I let fear consume me and I asked for him to take me home.

  “Ryan?"

  "Yes?"

  "I, um . . . I changed my mind. I want to go home. I do have plans and I was careless to postpone them.” Without giving it a second thought, I put my hand on his leg as I’d done a thousand times with my friends. “You know, Ryan?” His muscles . . . they're . . . luscious. “Take me home okay? We both know your life is way too much for me. I really like you, but I’ve played out what this is: we’ll kiss, and maybe do, you know, more, and you’ll leave me with a sweet goodbye after you’ve had your fun.

  “You won’t even have to say it. I’ll understand when I see it written on your face. Or you know, maybe you are sincere right now, but it won't take too many road trips to find out you really weren't once you got the sex. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of Tara or Alex, okay? I know sex would probably be great, but, well, who’s kidding who. You don't have the reputation you do for no reason. But I've thought a lot about it and I’ve decided that I don’t want sex right now. Let’s just be friends.”

  I took a long, deep breath, gasping for air. Phew!

  “I wouldn’t play a joke on you.” His voice soothed me. “Your hand feels good on my leg. You can leave it there as long as you want.” His hand rested on top of mine, holding it to his body.

  I’m frozen and I can't move. The sensations going through me . . . my legs, my chest is so tight—I’m a mess! He could be capable of anything. Shit, I could be capable of anything but . . .

  “The thing is I don’t know what you’re capable of.” I felt as if I'd awakened from my trance. I took away my hand. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken about what I had only been thinking.

  “What?”

  “Oh, well, I was thinking, it’s just . . . I don’t know you that well.” I was embarrassed that I hadn’t made sense.

  “Don’t you?” he shot me a look that was full of suggestion, and his sexy one syllable, masculine laugh echoed through the car . . . and my body.

  We exited the city.

  The highway followed along the ocean cliffs.

  I stared out the window. I loved the ocean and was secretly amused he chose a spot there for our rendezvous.

  I often wrote about the hidden strength it concealed and the life I imagined boiling within its deep darkness. I saw myself in a classic movie scene—lying on the beach, kissing my lover passionately, or perhaps playing with a wonderful man on top of me as the waves crashed around us.

  When we turned off the road, Ryan pulled into a parking area at one of the remote beaches out of Half Moon Bay. It was a few miles off the highway.

  Do you love the ocean as much as I do?

  “I really don’t feel like talking right now. I’m supposed go to Jerry’s and you and I both know I’m not going to give in to you, so I’ll just save you the trouble.” Swallow and breathe. “If this is for sex, just say so. You don’t have to pretend you care if I’m cold or dressed too sexy. You’re . . .” I’m confused. One minute I think about having sex with him and the next, not so much.

  “You sure talk a lot when you’re nervous.” He was obviously amused.

  “I told you, put your hand up.” I smiled at his comment and then looked away.

  “By all means, continue, Ms. Young.”

  “What was I saying?” I felt like I was disconnected, reaching for something to hold onto.

  “You were telling me that I shouldn't pretend to have feelings for you, because I’m . . .” he grinned.

  “Don’t make fun of me,” I demanded gently. “Just be honest and I’ll make a decision. Maybe we could do it one time, I don’t know. But whatever we decide, please don’t make me a laughing stock. I don’t want to be looked at by all the guys in the dugout, hearing them whisper crude jokes behind my back. So if you want a one-time thing, just tell me, and then don’t talk about it because . . .”

  “Because what?” he coaxed.

  “I'm trying to say, um . . . what I mean is, if one night is what you’re interested in, I’ll think about it. I’m not looking for a relationship anyway, because, well, I’m going to college, and I want to see boys there and um, experiment, you know, like you've gotten to do, but I want to know, truthfully, you know, what your intentions really are. I don’t want a wham-bam, thank you ma’am without being a part of the plan.

  “You’re a friend,” I reassured myself. "At least I'd like to think you are. I don’t want us to end just because of sex, and then I’ll never hear from you again. I know how it goes with my friends. Once the sex is over, that’s it. Do you have any friends left that you had sex with?”

  I didn’t expect him to answer, but put the question out there anyway. I began again, in part because I didn't want to hear him talk about women with whom he'd had that kind of relationship.

  “Are we going to sit in the car or what?" I reached for the handle on the door and opened it.

  "You want to walk on the beach?" His mouth twisted in amusement.

  "It's hot in the car, don't you think?"

  "Okay," he agreed, and we both got out.

  "Maybe I’m being unrealistic," I said as we walked slowly in the sand. "Can we just go into whatever this is like adults? You can get what you need, and I’ll hopefully get what I need, even though I don’t know what I need.”

  Damn, my throat, it’s closing. Push the words out Nicky. Swallow. Keep going. Why can’t I get any air?

  He turned toward me. His arms rested over my shoulders. I bent my head back to look up at him. His smile spoke so loudly I had trouble hearing anything. I’ve got to speak up before he’s spinning me again. It’s like gold dust falling around me. My God, it’s lovely.

  “I really don’t get this whole thing,” I continued. “You can’t seriously want me with all the beautiful women you have falling all over you. There’s no way I can offer you what they can. I'm some sort of a fantasy, right? I mean, not that I'm a fantasy for anyone, but what else could it be? Drop me back home and we’ll forget all about this.

  “You and I both know someone else will come along damn quick," I rolled on. "I’ve seen you give someone a look and they’re right there for you. The woman in the parking lot today—the way she tried to get your attention. She obviously likes
you.” I thought I saw him tense up, but I continued.

  “If you have sexy thoughts about being with someone who’s eighteen, don’t worry; I won’t make a big deal about anything. I’m not a blabbermouth, even though you’d think so because of the way I go on when I’m nervous, but I can keep secrets.”

  You have no idea how well I can keep secrets.

  “You can take me back to the ballpark. I’ll call Jerry and he’ll come get me. I’ll just make something up, like . . . I don’t know, something. You can go right from there and have sex. That pretty lady in the players’ lot, maybe, she's waiting for your call.”

  I’m running on again, but I can’t believe this handsome, successful man wants to be with me. He’s a man, not a boy. I don’t get it. I wonder if I have asthma.

  He looked at me with such an expression of kindness that I felt my breath escape from my body. When he put his hand on my cheek and sighed, I started to get emotional.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home. I promise I just want to talk to you, Nicky. Give me a chance and hear me out? I want to explain . . . I know I sound like I'm out of my mind, but I want so much more than only sex with you. I need you to hear about everything I know. When I’m done, you can have the evening you planned.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  The light of the late afternoon sun softened, the orange shadows became long, and everything around us seemed to sigh as the foam rode in on the end of a distant wave . . . coming close . . . coming so close.

  “You know the team is going on the road Thursday.” He took my hand in his and once again walked slowly, this time to the rapidly changing edge of the incoming tide. “I want to give you a list of people you should talk with while I’m gone. They’ll verify the information I told you about the other night. You should at least check out what's going on with your father. After all, it’s your future.”

  He turned away and looked out to the horizon.

  I did the same.

  When he took a long breath, he turned and faced me. “Nicky, do you really know what your dad is facing?”