The Off-Season

by Megan Green

  I smile. “We can be misfits together. I’m new here myself.”

  What. The. Fuck. Lexi? Did you just try to flirt with him?

  “Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I like having a partner in crime,” he says, his mouth widening into a devastating smile.

  Oh God. I have to get out of here. Now, before I do something even more embarrassing than literally running into him.

  “It was nice to see you again. Enjoy your peanut butter.” I push past him before he can respond, my feet moving double time as I attempt to get away. I don’t look behind me because I don’t want to give him any indication that I might want him to follow me.

  The man is gorgeous; that much is obvious. With his athletic build and broad shoulders, there’s no doubting his strength. Add in those stunning eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and strong jawline, and he’s everything I’ve always found attractive in a man. Old me would’ve been falling all over herself, trying to get a chance with a man like that.

  But that’s just it. That was the old me. The woman who hadn’t made the mistake of a lifetime. The woman who deserved love. The woman who had a bright future ahead of herself but threw it all away with one terrible decision.

  The woman I am today is a shell of that woman. On the outside, we might be the same. But on the inside? On the inside, we couldn’t be more different. I don’t deserve happiness. I don’t deserve love. On the inside, I’m as ugly as the car crash I caused that night. On the inside, I don’t deserve…

  Anything at all.

  Chapter 5

  Tag

  Can I give you a hand with that?”

  Lexi screams as she drops the hammer, her feet jumping back before it has the chance to crush her toe.

  Smooth, Tag. Real smooth. Way to give the poor girl a heart attack.

  When I saw her outside from my kitchen window—well, B’s kitchen window—trying like hell to reach up and hold a board in place with one hand while she maneuvered the hammer with the other, I couldn’t help but smile. I’d only seen her on a few occasions, but this tiny blonde sure was different than anyone I’d met before.

  Most women I knew wouldn’t even know how to hold a hammer, let alone try to fix a broken shutter on her own. Yet here was Lexi, thin sweater rising up to expose her tiny waist as she reached, her round ass on full display for anyone to gawk at, trying her damnedest to do it all on her own.

  Okay, maybe that gawking part was just me since I seem to be the only perv within gawking distance.

  After watching her for a few moments, I decided to stop being a creeper and go over to offer my assistance. And, instead of charming the pants right off her—which, let’s be honest, was totally my intention—I almost caused spontaneous amputation.

  Strike two when it comes to this girl. First, I showed up like an idiot on her back porch. And, now, on her front one, I almost cost her a toe.

  Moral of the story—me, this girl, and porches do not mix.

  She retrieves the hammer, allowing me a close-up view of that perfect ass as she bends over to pick it up, and then she blows her hair out of her face and gives me a pointed look. “Can I help you?”

  Her irritation with me radiates off her in waves. Not exactly the usual response I elicit from the ladies, but then again, I normally don’t come across as such a freaking idiot.

  What is it about this girl that turns me into a fool the second she’s near?

  I shrug off the thought. It doesn’t matter. I remind myself yet again that I’m not here for random hook-ups. I’m not here for anything other than reconnecting with myself and regrouping. And getting my game face back because, Lord knows, it was missing this last season. Screwing the neighbor is certainly not on the to-do list, no matter how hot she might be.

  But that doesn’t mean I need to be a dick and leave her here to fix this shit on her own.

  I take a step forward. Her eyes narrow further as my hand extends toward hers, but rather than closing my fingers around her skin, I pull the hammer from her grip.

  “I came over to see if you needed a hand. From over there, it looked like you might be having a hard time.”

  Lexi reaches for the hammer, but I lift my arm, holding it out of her grasp.

  “I’m fine. Now, if you’ll return my tool…”

  I step past her, sure to keep the hammer elevated so that she’s unable to snatch it out of my hand. I take a look at the shutter hanging precariously from a single nail. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression, Two heads are better than one? Well, four hands are better than two. Let me help. You’ll be done in half the time.”

  I don’t wait for her to answer or protest. Instead, I twist the shutter around until it’s upright, holding it in place as I look at her over my shoulder. “Hand me a nail, would ya?”

  Lexi gives me another irritated look, her jaw setting a hard edge as she turns to the porch railing. Grabbing a handful of nails, she whirls around and stomps over to my side.

  She really is cute when she’s mad.

  When she joins me, I flick my chin over to the lower corner of the shutter. “Hold on to that edge for me. Keep it steady while I secure this side.”

  I take a nail from her outstretched palm as she places her other hand where I instructed. Once she’s in place, I drop my hold on the wood, lining up the nail in the perfect position before driving it home with a few well-placed hits.

  I forgot how satisfying it could be to use your hands for something as mundane as fixing a shutter. My hands are my livelihood. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to catch, field, or hit a ball. But there’s a vast difference between using them to play a game versus using them to make something. I grew up helping my uncle with his construction business. I enjoyed it, but it was never the life I wanted. Looking back though, there was always a certain sense of pride that came from it. Not the same kind of pride that comes from a random stranger recognizing me on the street and asking for my autograph. But a pride that comes from knowing your hands helped create something that could change a person’s life.

  Fuck. It’s a shutter, dude. Cool it with the philosophical bullshit.

  I make quick work of the other two corners, testing the strength of the shutter with a firm tug. “All right, I think that’ll do it. Unless we get hit by a freak lake hurricane, you should be good to go. Anything else I can help you out with?”

  Lexi gives me an odd look. It’s not exactly irritation, like it was before. But I wouldn’t call it friendly either.

  “What’s in it for you?”

  Her question catches me so off guard, I swear, I almost swallow my tongue. “Ex-excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” she says, her hip cocking to the side as her hand comes to rest on it.

  I’d laugh at the ridiculousness of the motion if I wasn’t sure she’d probably skin me alive for it. This girl is a paradox of sassy and adorable. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a girl actually put her hand on her hip like she was Michelle Tanner or some shit. I half-expect her to stomp her foot at me. It’s cute as hell.

  But, on the other hand, she sort of scares the shit out of me. Every part of me is convinced that, if I made the wrong move, my testicles would be jammed so far up my body, my tonsils would be able to say hello. In the few times I’ve seen her, she’s never once given me the impression that she’d fall for my shit.

  She isn’t a damsel in distress, waiting for the handsome prince to come and save the day.

  She’s a dragon. And she isn’t afraid to burn anyone who gets in her way.

  And fuck me if that isn’t sexy as hell.

  I hold my hands up, the thumb and forefinger circling the hammer to keep it from clattering to the ground again. “Nothing in it for me. Just trying to be neighborly.”

  Lexi’s eyes roam me from head to toe, pausing every so often to pay special attention to some aspect of my appearance. When she finishes her perusal, her face is impassive. She turns on her heel without so much as a word, walking over to the wi
ndow on the other side of the front door. She fidgets with the shutter on the right side of the window for a moment before looking back over her shoulder.

  “Well, are you going to help me, or are you going to stand there and look pretty?”

  Oh, God. I’m in so much trouble.

  We work in near silence for the next few hours, the only words passing between us related to the task at hand. After fixing all the shutters, we move to the steps leading up to the front door. They’re usable but in definite need of repair. If the creak under my feet is any indication, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before someone’s foot goes right through one of them.

  I sit down on the cooling ground, starting with the bottom step and having no intention of stopping until we reach the top. Grabbing a hammer, I set about prying the old, rotted wood off the risers.

  A pile of new wood and a miter saw are set up on the side of the house. When Lexi brought me over and showed me the area, I have to admit I was impressed. Impressed because she had some damn good materials picked out. And doubly impressed that she had intended to use that saw on her own.

  I almost said as much but stopped myself before the words could escape. Something told me Lexi wouldn’t take kindly to my male chauvinistic view of women and power tools. I didn’t need to give her a reason to practice using that saw on, say…my balls.

  Lexi disappears as I’m finishing the demolition of the first step, and I’m halfway through the second when she reappears a few minutes later, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a glass of water in the other. When she takes a seat on the top step, setting the plate down next to her and picking up half a sandwich, I take that as my cue to join her.

  I grab a sandwich, not even bothering to see what’s on it, and inhale half of it before my butt even meets the stair. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until food was presented to me. All this hard work is…well, hard. I forgot how much it takes out of you.

  I chew silently, not wanting to break the unsaid understanding we seem to have going on here. Lexi has made it clear she’s not exactly a Chatty Cathy. Besides, this girl is already hard enough to be around, everything about her practically calling to me even though I know she’s off-limits. If she actually acted like she might like me, who knows if I’d be able to resist? Better we keep up this all-business thing we’ve got going. Less temptation.

  So, imagine my surprise when she finally speaks, “You said you were on your way to town for PB and J the other day, so I figured that was a safe bet. But, if you’d prefer something else, let me know. I’ve got some lunchmeat in the fridge.”

  The smile that spreads across my face is instantaneous. Not only did she speak to me, but she also remembered my favorite food. Okay, so maybe she didn’t know it was my favorite. But it still makes me ridiculously happy that she remembered what I’d said.

  I really am in so much fucking trouble.

  I hold up my sandwich, turning my smile toward her. “This is great. Thank you.”

  A small laugh bubbles out of her, and it’s the most contagious sound I’ve ever heard. I can’t help but laugh with her.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You have peanut butter in your teeth.”

  Fuck. Me.

  My lips snap shut, my tongue running across them to try to clear any remaining debris. The damage is done though. That’s strike three.

  I take a sip of the water, trying to buy some time to come up with something to say to explain to this girl that I’m not normally such a moron, when she surprises me again.

  “So, forgive me for asking, but I think it’s only fair, considering you know mine. What’s your name?”

  My eyes dart to hers, looking for any hint of sarcasm or impertinence. But her question appears genuine. I think back to our earlier conversations and realize she’s right. I asked for her name but never offered mine. To be honest, the thought never occurred to me. I haven’t had to introduce myself since my rookie year with the Rampage. Everywhere I go, people seem to know who I am. I never even thought about the fact that Lexi might not.

  It’s oddly refreshing.

  To Lexi, I’m the guy next door. Not Tag Taggart, all-star shortstop for the Washington Rampage. I’m not a conquest, a chance for her fifteen minutes of fame. And I sure as hell am not a meal ticket, a man she can accuse of rape in exchange for three million dollars.

  “My name is Ian,” I hear myself say.

  It’s not a lie. It’s the name on my birth certificate. But it’s a name I haven’t gone by in years. My friends call me Tag. My teammates call me Tag. Hell, with the exception of my mom, my entire family calls me Tag.

  But, while Lexi might not recognize me, she might recognize my name. And, now that I know she has no idea who I am, I want to keep it that way. At least for a little while longer.

  “And what brings you to Maple Lake, Ian?”

  “I, uh…I needed to get away for a bit. You?”

  She raises a brow at me, as if she wasn’t anticipating me to ask the same question. She thinks for a moment before saying, “I just needed to get away for a bit.”

  Right. I’d be willing to bet she’s trying to get away from something, just like I am. But I’m not about to press the issue, not when I’m not in any rush to explain my reasoning either.

  After finishing up lunch—she made me three sandwiches, and I ate every single bite—we get back to work on the stairs. Our semi-friendly chatter quickly dies off, the rest of the afternoon passing much like the morning did.

  The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains as I hammer home the final nail. Setting the hammer down on the finished step, I take a step back, dusting my hands off and finding myself by Lexi’s side. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

  She gives me a playful shove, almost knocking me to my ass out of shock. After spending all day with her, that’s the last thing I expected her to do. She grabs my forearm and helps steady me. Her laughter and her smile, which lights her eyes in a way I haven’t seen before, cause all the air to rush out of my lungs.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  It takes a second for her words to register. And, when they do, I’m convinced I imagined them.

  “What?” I mutter like an idiot.

  She smiles shyly at me.

  Who in the hell is this girl, and what has she done with Lexi?

  “Well, I figure I’ve stolen your entire Saturday. The least I can do is cook you dinner.”

  I’m not sure what has changed in the past few hours. When I arrived, I was convinced she was going to skin me alive. And, now, here she is, her cheeks blushing as she looks down at the ground beneath her feet, waiting for my answer.

  I know I should leave. I should say, Thanks, but no, thanks, before turning and running my ass back to my place. Fuck, if I were smart, I’d get on the phone with Ray and tell him to find me someplace else to hide out for a few months before I could do something really stupid.

  But, instead, I hear myself saying the words, “Dinner sounds great.”

  Chapter 6

  Lexi

  What in the hell was I thinking? I ask myself for the millionth time since Ian left to go wash up. Standing under the spray of the shower, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost my damn mind. Or maybe he has?

  He agreed to dinner fairly quickly even though I’d been nothing but bitchy to him all day. Lucky for me, he asked if it would be okay if he went home and cleaned up first, and I didn’t waste a second saying yes. I needed some time to wash up as well. And berate myself for being a goddamn idiot.

  Why did I ask him to stay for dinner? Why had I let him stick around all day?

  Well, I knew the answer to that one actually. Despite my resolve to do this all myself, it really was great to have some help. I’d expected those stairs to take me the rest of the weekend. And we were able to knock them out in a few hours.

  But look at where it got me. I might have finished stairs, but now, I am going to have dinner wi
th the gorgeous man who lives next door.

  This is not good.

  I tried scaring him away when he first showed up this morning. After my reaction to being close to him on the street the other day, I knew I needed to stay as far away from him as possible. So, I acted like a complete asshole. I was short, rude, and unfriendly as hell. And, still, he stayed to help. I thought giving him the silent treatment would get him to leave. But he seemed to accept it, working alongside me in an unspoken pact of silence. It was…odd. But nice. There was a certain comfort that came from being with someone who didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter all the time.

  When lunchtime rolled around, I wasn’t able to help myself from asking him a few questions. I didn’t like not knowing my next-door neighbor’s name, especially when he was doing so much to help me out. And then, by the end of the day, I’d gotten so comfortable with being around him, the invitation to dinner slipped out before I could stop it.

  And therein lies the problem. In a few short hours, I’ve grown comfortable with Ian.

  And that can’t happen.

  I can’t exactly uninvite him now though. I’ll just have to whip together something fast, feed him, and then feign exhaustion. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint and get his ass out of my house before I have to resort to being rude again.

  I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower, a twinge in my back indicating I might not have to pretend to be exhausted too much. A long, hard day of work certainly takes more of a toll on you at twenty-seven than it does at twenty-three.

  My mind flashes briefly to the long days and nights I spent fixing up Simply Chic. The hours I devoted to painting and redecorating, making sure everything was perfect before opening. It was the first thing I could call all my own. And I couldn’t have been prouder of the way it turned out.