by JL Paul
“Why?” he asked. Using his free hand, he ran his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “I used to call you that all the time.”
Jerking her head out of his reach, she banged it on the window in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the amused smile she was certain he’d be wearing.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
He laughed. “Geez, Taylor. You make it sound like I’m kidnapping you.”
“You are,” she muttered under her breath as she slumped down in the leather seat.
He leaned closer to her, eyes still on the road. “What was that?”
“Nothing," she said as she straightened. "Let’s just get there and get this over with. I have other important things to do today.”
He tried to take her hand but she moved as far away from him as she could, tucking her hands under her firmly crossed arms.
A tiny smirk toyed with the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Taylor. Loosen up. You’ll have fun. And I promised you that I’d do the interview at the party if you’d come with me. It’s only going to be a few guys from the team cooking out and drinking beer. We’ll have a little chat and then maybe you can talk to the other players, too.”
She had to admit that he was right; though she would never say it aloud. After he'd blackmailed her into attending this cookout with him, she'd started turning it over in her mind, figuring out how to use the situation to her advantage. If he did finally talk to her, she’d maybe be able to get some background information from his teammates. If he didn’t talk to her, well, he had mentioned that the guy who was hosting this party was his best friend from the farm team. She’d corner him and get a story. It wouldn’t be exactly what Luther wanted but it’d be something.
When he exited the highway, he followed a well maintained two lane road through a quiet neighborhood. Huge houses with manicured lawns took up both sides of the road. She wondered vaguely if Brady owned a house like one of these yet or if he was renting for the time being. She knew that his parents had moved out of the area shortly after Brady had graduated high school so he wasn’t staying with them. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about it, but she refrained. She refused to get too personal, not wanting to give the impression that she had any lingering feelings for him.
Finally he turned into an immaculate condominium community. He stopped at the gate to enter a code into the electronic box. When the gate lifted, he eased his black Maxima past. He obeyed the posted 5 MPH sign as Taylor’s eyes drank in the beautifully designed, two story condos.
Most were deep red brick with small flower beds in the front. Yellows, pinks, and reds peered from the planters, adding color to the otherwise green landscape.
An older couple held hands as they walked a leashed mutt of mixed heritage along the sidewalk, conversing quietly with each other. A pang hit Taylor's heart - a longing for her own parents. Would they had been like that if her mother wouldn't have died and her father wouldn't have fallen into - whatever he'd fallen into?
Slowing, Brady pulled into a driveway behind a silver SUV. He killed the engine and gave her a wink. “Ready, love?”
“Who exactly lives here?” she asked as she opened her door and stepped out of the car.
Still grinning, Brady came around to her side to grab her hand and pulled her toward the house. “Kyle Shepard.”
Stunned, she froze, somehow managing to yank his hand back. He stopped to face her. “Kyle Shepard? Catcher for the Racers?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I told you a couple of the players would be here.”
She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “I thought you meant from the farm team!”
A slow grin spread across his face and lit up his eyes. “Feeling shy? Nervous about meeting professional players?”
“I….uh…oh hell, Brady! You know I am. I don’t fit in with those people,” she confessed, trying to keep her voice from turning into an indignant squeak.
His smile disappeared as he bent to look her straight in the eyes. “That’s what you said about my friends in school, remember? But you ate them alive.”
Wincing, her heart fluttered briefly as she caught a quick glance of the Brady that she'd fallen for years ago. But that Brady didn't last long as he quickly disappeared - vanishing into thin air. The present Brady kissed her nose before grabbing her hand once more. “Let’s go, Taylor. Grow a set, will you?”
“I swear to God, Brady, that I will kick you in your set if you don’t stop jerking me around,” she muttered with every step she took. She didn’t see his smirk change to a genuine smile.
Brady pulled her up the front step and rang the bell. Taylor took that opportunity to wrangle her hand out of his. Turning to look at her, his luscious brows crashed together before amusement overtook his face. His lips relaxed into a smile.
A couple seconds later the door flew open to reveal the tall, dark Racers’ catcher. His eyes lit up when they landed on Brady. “Finally! I thought you’d never get here.” He leaned past Brady to point at Taylor, still pouting behind Brady's back. “Oh, is this the girl you were telling me about?”
Taylor had barely registered Kyle's words when Brady grabbed her arm gently and pulled her forward. “Yeah. This is Taylor Lockwood. Taylor, meet Kyle Shepard.”
Taylor smiled and shook his offered hand. “It’s really nice to meet you, Kyle,” she managed to mutter.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Taylor,” he told her, warm eyes shining. “Brady never shuts up about you. Come in. Not everyone is here yet.”
Brady motioned for her to precede him and she stumbled through the door, wondering what Kyle had meant about Brady. Certainly Brady never talked about her.
Color flooded her cheeks. Oh no! He wouldn't have bragged to his teammates, would he? Not about something that had happened in high school.
A lump formed in her throat. How could she face these people, too? If they knew….
“Relax, love,” he said, leaning over to whisper in her ear. His warm breath tickled her skin, causing an involuntary shudder to work its way through her body. “Enjoy yourself. I promised I would talk to you and I will.”
Shivering, she hugged her arms to her body as she followed Kyle out to a huge deck.
Three people looked up as she stepped through the sliding glass doors. The man she instantly recognized as Ian Pitner, shortstop for the team. He came forward to introduce himself with a wide smile on his face.
The women approached her next. The first one was about her height with long, dark hair and friendly green eyes.
“Hi! I’m Tabby Hays,” she said, extending her hand. She pointed to the taller brunette behind her. “This is Zoey Martin.”
Realization hit Taylor like a brick. She smiled as she shook Tabby’s hand. “Yes, I read your column all the time. It’s amazing.”
A little pink touched Tabby’s cheeks. “Thanks.” She motioned for Taylor to follow her to a couple of chairs. “So, how do you know Brady?”
“Um, well,” she said, her uneasiness returning. “I knew him in high school. But actually I was supposed to be interviewing him today for our local newspaper. He sort of dragged me here.”
“Really,” Tabby said, leaning forward. “What paper?”
"The Somersville Times," Taylor said.
They talked shop for the next ten minutes, Tabby describing her job as a columnist for a sports magazine, until Brady interrupted them. “Taylor, love, do you want something to drink?”
Her head snapped up as she blinked, remembering that she'd come to this place with Brady in order to interview him. “Water, please. And don’t call me that.”
Smirking, he swaggered away to fetch her water. Tabby and Zoey exchanged a glance as she continued to glare at his back.
“Trouble in paradise?” Zoey asked, innocence radiating in her eyes.
Taylor snapped back around, her fingers curled into fists in an effort to stop them from trembling. “No! It’s nothing like that. I mean, I’m not invol
ved with him or anything.”
Tabby flashed a smug smile. “Really? Tell him that.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. “No. Honest. He’s a smug, egotistical …..”
“Hey, watch yourself. You’re going to give these ladies the impression that you don’t like me,” Brady grinned as he handed her a bottle of water. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
She narrowed her eyes as she snatched the bottle from his hand. “No."
His grin reached his eyes as he pried her fingers loose and encased her hand in his. Winking at Tabby and Zoey, he grinned. “If you ladies will excuse us, I promised Taylor I would give her a quick interview.”
Pulling Taylor from her chair, he led her back into the house, through the kitchen, and to a comfortable living room. He dropped down to the sofa and motioned for her to do the same. She sat primly on the edge, as far from him as she could get, and dug her note pad out of her messenger bag. He watched her with amused eyes as he sipped slowly from his bottle.
“All right,” she started, not looking at him. “Tell me what it’s like to finally be playing in the big league so close to your home town.”
Sitting forward, he placed his beer bottle on the coffee table. “Come on, Taylor. Is that the best you can do?”
“What do you want me to ask you? How your childhood was? Are your parents proud? Because I have all those questions right here.”
His eyes darkened. “Why don’t you ask me how my sex life is now that I’m a pro?”
She matched his stare, grinding her teeth. “Because I don’t really care about your sex life. I already know too much about it as it is.”
He didn’t blink, just returned her stare before finally smiling. Grabbing his bottle, he sank into the sofa, taking a quick swig of his beer. “Fine. It feels wonderful to have worked so hard and finally made it where I want to be. Of course, it’s constantly in the back of my mind that they could send me back down once Randalph’s leg heals.”
“I thought he was just going to retire?”
Brady shrugged. “Probably. But you know how professional athletes are.”
She snorted. “Certainly. Over paid arrogant jocks who think they can get away with anything.”
He leaned forward again. “Is that what all this coldness is about, me ‘getting away with something’?”
She ducked her head over her notes. “No. Let’s just finish….”
“Taylor, I tried to call you and talk to you but you never answered the phone. You never gave me a chance to explain,” he said, his eyes earnest.
“I didn’t care to hear your explanation then and I don’t care to hear it now,” she said in what she hoped was a smug tone. Inside, her heart was shaking and her stomach quivering - and not out of nervousness. Anger raged through her body but she tamped it down - she had a job to do. “It’s done and over with. It was a stupid, idiotic high school moment.”
He reached for her hand but she yanked it away. “I obviously hurt you and I …”
“I. Don’t. Want. To. Hear. It.” She enunciated each word succinctly.
With a sigh, he sat back. “Okay, Taylor. Go ahead with your questions.”
She asked him the questions Josh had helped her with and he answered them all perfectly, with just a tad of arrogance. Once they finished she tucked her note pad into her bag and got to her feet. “Will you take me to my car now?”
He stood also. “What’s the rush? I thought you’d enjoy meeting the guys. You and Tabby seemed to have hit it off.”
“I want to get started on my story,” she explained, keeping the pleading from her voice. “While it’s still fresh in my mind.”
“Spoken like a true writer,” an unfamiliar voice said from over Brady’s shoulder. Taylor’s eyes widened as Alex Miyerson, the Racers’ star pitcher walked into view followed by the equally impressive Mark Johnson. They each stepped forward and shook Taylor’s hand as they introduced themselves.
“Tell me you’re not leaving already?” Alex asked. “Tabby would love to talk your ear off about journalism, I’m sure.”
Taylor wondered if men who were good at baseball were born with some kind of gene that made them good-looking, too. Alex Miyerson's dark hair and sculpted looks were testament to that theory. But it was his brown eyes that appealed to Taylor - warm and friendly, urging her to stay.
She smiled at him, her resolve weakening. “I met her already and we did talk shop.”
“Stick around,” Mark coaxed, moving closer. He wasn’t quite as tall as Brady or Alex, but Taylor still had to crane her head to look at him. “We’re getting ready to throw some burgers on the grill. And I promise we won’t let Alex cook.”
Rolling his eyes, Alex gave Mark a friendly punch. "I'm going to get the grill going. I hope you'll stay, Taylor."
He disappeared with Mark closely behind him.
“Come on, love,” Brady coaxed, studying her intently. “Stay for a bit then I’ll take you to your car. I promise to be on my best behavior.”
He reminded her suddenly of a five year-old child begging his mother for one more bedtime story. Her resolve faltered.
“Fine,” she relented. “But stop calling me by that stupid nickname.”
***
Tension hovered like a storm cloud as they drove back to the stadium where Taylor had left her car. Brady tried a few times to engage her in conversation but gave up when she refused to cooperate. He sighed repeatedly, smirking when she’d grunt in irritation.
“Come on, Taylor,” he whined. “Admit it, you had a good time. You got along with everyone and they seemed to really like you.”
“I’m surprised nice people like that crowd actually put up with you,” she retorted.
He barked out a laugh. “What can I say? They find me charming.”
She snorted. “As charming as a rabid Rottweiler.”
“Not everyone shares your opinion of me,” he said curtly.
“Not everyone has a reason,” she murmured, not caring if he heard her or not.
He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, causing it to spring up at odd angles. “I’m really sorry you feel that way.”
When they finally turned into the stadium parking lot, she instructed him on where she'd parked her car. As soon as he pulled beside it, she didn’t say a word as she practically sprang from his car.
“Taylor, wait,” he called. He got out of his car and walked over to the passenger side of hers. She paused, hand on the door handle. “Come to the game tomorrow night. I’ll leave you a ticket at Will Call.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why, Brady? Why are you so insistent that I be in your life again? Didn’t you humiliate me enough?”
He rested his arms on the roof of her car and shook his head. “No, Taylor. That’s not it at all.” Swallowing, he licked his lips. “I screwed up, okay? I want to make it up to you.”
She laughed, the sound bitter in her ears. “So that’s it. You want to ease your guilty conscience. Let me spare you the trouble. I forgive you, okay? There. It’s over and done. Now move on with your life and leave me alone.”
Just as she opened her door, scrambling to get in and away from him, he called to her once more. “Taylor, wait. You need to know the truth.”
Stopping, she closed her eyes. She needed to get away from him quickly before she lost control. She didn’t want him to see her break.
She straightened to face him, lifting a brow in question.
“I lost,” he whispered. “I lost the bet.”
She froze, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. Giving him a cold look, she narrowed her eyes. “Really? By a couple hours? Minutes? That must have really pissed you off, huh?"
“No damn it!” He smacked the roof of her car causing her to jump. “I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell anyone what happened.”
She shook her head, refusing to register the words he'd shouted at her. “No. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Taylor,” he begged. “Please
. I swear. Just hear me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I promise.”
She gaped at him while a single tear fell from her eye, followed by another and another.
“I can’t talk about this right now, Brady,” she whispered. With one last look, she climbed into her car and drove away, avoiding her rearview mirror. She was leaving him behind, again.
Chapter Four
She smiled as she heard him approach her from behind. The musky scent of his cologne tantalized her nose as she her shoved books in her locker and replaced them with different ones.
“Good morning, love,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I missed you this morning. Where were you?”
Turning in his embrace, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss on his mouth. “I overslept.”
He raised a brow before lacing his fingers with hers and leading her down the hall. “Really? Hot date last night?”
She snorted. “No. Just up late with homework and stuff.”
Nodding his head in greeting to a couple football players passing them, he turned his green eyes on her. “Everything okay?”
“Of course,” she answered quickly, avoiding his eyes. She definitely did not want to tell him she’d spent the evening taking care of her drunken father.
They reached her classroom before the warning bell rang. He pushed her gently against the wall, brushing his lips over hers. She melted into his body, nearly dropping her books.
When he broke the kiss, a smirk slipped over his lips. “I gotta get to class.”
He started to walk away but spun back around, smacking his forehead. “Oh, do you mind if Jason and Amanda go to Prom with us?”
“Prom?” she asked, totally confused.
He stepped closer to cup her cheek. “Yeah, Prom. You didn’t think I’d take anyone else, now did you, love?”
He kissed her again, only tearing away as the warning bell rang.
She bolted upright, sweat beading on her forehead. Holding a hand to her chest, she caught her breath and glanced at the red numbers of her clock. Only a little after four in the morning.
