Falling for Centerfield

by Sophia Summers

He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

  She let out a long breath, knowing it did not in fact sound that ridiculous. But she said nothing.

  They sat a little longer and he reached for her hand. She enjoyed the comfort of his large fingers intertwined with her smaller ones, but she pulled away. “No. I don’t know if we can make it work. I mean, of all the people, how can I fall for a guy like you?” That sounded different than she’d meant.

  “Whoa.” He searched her face. “What do you mean a guy like me? Not smart? Athletic? You still harping on about that?”

  “Harping. Cole.”

  “No really. You can’t let that go. Every single thing is viewed through some crazy lens. Like we’re all some evil athlete mold—”

  “Stop already. He cheated on me. Over and over. I felt like an idiot. I only just got over Devin last year.”

  His face showed his sorrow. “You dated Devin Laconi?” He reached for her hand again and said, “I’m sorry. Guys are jerks. I’m a jerk. Sometimes the guy thinks he and the girl are operating under the same understanding. Obviously Devin wasn’t clear what his commitment toward you was gonna be.”

  “Or he just used me and played me for a fool.”

  “Yes, that too.” He wrapped a heavy arm across her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Harlow. Not all guys are like Devin. I remember him. The way he’d talk about girls to the guys wasn’t great either. But you can trust some guys.”

  “The ones who don’t spend time flirting with every female near them, who aren’t on camera with a room full of girls the same day they were kissing you on a boat? Those kinds of guys?”

  He was silent again for a long time. “I’m trying to understand. But I’m also wishing you could just have a little more faith and trust in me. And answer my calls if I try to reach you over and over and over. If little things like that are going to bother you, then you’re right, I don’t know if we can be together.”

  “It’s good we both understand that.”

  “Yes.”

  Harlow checked her watch. “I had the stylist come to your home. I’ve got to get all cleaned up first.”

  “Thanks again for coming.”

  “We’re a good team for some things, I think. I’ll do my best tonight. I hope you won’t wish you had some movie star or something like Mr. Stacy wanted.”

  “No way. I couldn’t think of anyone else I want on my arm tonight.”

  She paused. He said the best things. He seemed so sincere. Why couldn’t he be like this all the time? “Well, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Her last view of him was brooding, leaning back, still wrapped in a towel, frowning out at the ocean.

  Chapter 23

  Cole stood in his closet and took one last look at his bowtie. Straight. He admired his shoes. Purple. And then he laughed. He loved the attention. He admitted it. And what was wrong with a little attention? His feet moved his signature dance, and he held out his hands, admiring the tux, the whole look. We are ready. He reached for his sunglasses and slipped them on his face. And then he smiled.

  “Looking good, Big Dawg.” Even her voice behind him smiled while she said it.

  He whirled around. Harlow leaned on the doorframe to his closet looking like flames herself. Her dress clung to her curves like they were asking to be held. “Mmm. Harlow, you are one beautiful woman.”

  “What? No, babe, honey, sugar, or angel tonight? Tootsie?”

  He shook his head. “I have never called any woman tootsie.”

  She laughed and walked closer, just a step. “Oh no? I’d think tootsie might be one of your favorites.”

  “I can’t think of a better word than beautiful. You’re the real deal, Bonfire.”

  She seemed pleased with that. “And you. I’ve never seen someone look so good in a tux.”

  “Come here and show me, don’t tell me.” He opened up his hands bending up his fingers.

  But she shook her head. “I like the view better from over here.” Her eyes traveled over him when she said it, and he had to force himself to stay put while she looked. When all he really wanted to do was pull her up against him. “Maybe we could stay in? Play slapjack?”

  She laughed, a delicious sound, free, happy. “No way. I’m going to the ball with my handsome athlete.”

  “Oh, you like athletes now, do you?” He stepped closer from across the closet and felt the room grow small, his breath come faster.

  “I’ve never not liked athletes. I like this one too much.”

  “Not possible. So, this is good to know. If I put on a tux, maybe even just a suit? Clean up a little?” He waited, eyebrows raised until she nodded. “And then I get ready to go out on a fancy date, then . . . what? The athlete looks good on me?” He spun in a circle.

  He moved close, close enough to smell her amazing perfume, close enough to see the curve on her upper lip curl in appreciation, to feel the heat rising between them, to sense a hint of his power. Her attraction.

  Her lashes lifted, and her hand ran up his chest. She stepped nearer and removed his glasses. His eyes studied her, intense, curious even. And he waited.

  “Athlete does look good on you.” Her voice, soft, rumbled through him.

  Then she slipped his glasses on her own face and made to leave the room. But he wrapped his hands around her waist. “Oh, no you don’t. You have your own glasses, Little Dawg.”

  “I left them in my room.”

  He turned her in his arms. “Leave them there. Don’t hide your stunning face.”

  “And what about your face?”

  “Stunning?” He made to look in the mirror, pretending to admire. “She thinks I’m stunning.”

  “Oh brother, seriously. You wear those things all the time, and half the time I wish I could see your eyes.”

  That was another bit of fun and revealing information. “It’s easier to do what I have to do with the shades. Part of the act.”

  She nodded, and a new light turned on in her eyes. Maybe she would finally understand him. A bit. She sighed. “Oh, here they are then.” She handed them back. “I’m not actually looking for that much attention tonight, so it’s probably better if I just blend in.”

  Cole whistled. “Oh no, little darlin’. You won’t be blending in tonight I can tell you that much.”

  His eyes traveled up the length of her. He wanted her to understand that of all the girls, she was the one he was most drawn to, the only one he really wanted on his arm. “Every eye is going to be on you, plastered up against me so they’re clear who you’re with.”

  She laughed. “Oh, you are a charmer.” She sighed. “Should we go?”

  He checked his watch. “Yes, we’ll arrive late on the dot.”

  “Perfect.”

  He held out his arm, which she took, and then he stopped. “What makes you think you can just saunter into my closet like you own it, little lady?”

  She just shrugged, and he shook his head like great laws had been broken.

  “Let’s get you on the way to the ball before my closet becomes way too fun for me.”

  Her musical laugh filled him with comfort and he led her out of his room, deliberately not looking at his bed or any of his clothing strewn about on a chair here, or a desk there.

  The limo waited, but suddenly he wanted hands on the wheel. He slipped his phone out of his pocket. “Pull around the red one.” He wanted to drive. Of course, the car was part of the show, but he had other reasons for wanting to drive. One being that he loved his car. The other that sometimes he loved the control, the power on the road, the feel of the tires hugging pavement. Driving brought the world close and made him the master.

  The staff pulled it out from the garage, and he held the door open for her.

  “You have a J50 Ferrari.” Her hand reached out like she’d like to touch it.

  “You know your Ferraris?”

  “The J50, I know. I want one in white with black trim.” She laughed. “I mean, I’
m not ever going to get one, but if I was ever that wealthy, that’s what I would get. Not that your red one isn’t great.” She put a hand on her forehead. “I sound like an idiot.”

  “The great Harlow Ember, journalist, is at last made speechless by a car.”

  Her face burned bright pink. Then she turned to him. “This is fun, Cole, thank you.”

  Pleased, he rested a hand on her lower back. “Let’s go dazzle our fans. And get out your phone. I’ve got a few ideas for on the way there.”

  He pulled out of his driveway. “Here’s my phone too. Since I’m driving, I’ve got you on social media duty, okay?”

  “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

  “I meant to talk about this earlier, but someone put on a bathing suit . . .”

  She laughed. “What a beautiful pool. It’s all amazing.”

  “Better with you in it. I know we have our issues, but I’m serious when I say that seeing it all through your eyes has made a difference.” He cleared his throat, never able to quite find the words he needed when he wanted them. But hopefully she was seeing that he cared. He really did, and not just about how stunning she was, but he appreciated her brains, the wit with words, all of it. He wished he could explain that.

  “So, we need you to start heckling me on twitter, tag me and heckle away, like you did at the game.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. A stream of like twenty of them. Tag me and the team every time.”

  “Okay.”

  “And hurry.”

  “Then get on mine, and you’re gonna need to answer.”

  “And ask yourself to the ball, where we can have a heckle faceoff.”

  She laughed. “Are we really going to?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. But in Twitter land it will seem like it.” He held up a hand. “Oh, and don’t forget to tag the team and use all the hashtags.”

  “I’m on it.” Her thumbs were already flying, and a small smile lifted one half of her mouth. She really was a beautiful woman.

  He kept quiet while she thought, and laughed. “How about this one, ‘You need more than a soft and weathered mitt to catch a good woman.’”

  His chuckle was low. “How true that is.” He shook his head.

  “Do you care if I add one of our rally hashtags? I’m going to bring up a women’s issue to pull in more people.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, the bigger audience, the better.”

  She seemed overly excited, but he was just happy she could handle this.

  Then she took a picture. “Inquiring fans want to know what you’re wearing tonight.”

  “Did you get my good side? Should I turn to look?”

  She waved him away. “You look perfect.”

  “We’re almost there.” They pulled into the Tellemar Resort. It sat on the edge of a bluff, looking out over the water.

  “Oh, I’ve always wanted to come here.”

  “It’s beautiful, has walking paths, and you can get down to the water at high or low tide. We’ll come back in the daytime when this place really shines.” He hoped they really would.

  As soon as they stepped out of the car, cameras flashed from all directions. “Hey, Bonfire. You really told him.”

  More people gathered. “Bonfire! Did she come?”

  Cole waved and began to wonder what all she’d said. They posed for more pictures and smiled, and he’d never felt more comfortable or more confident than he did with her by his side. He placed his lips at her ear. “You’re amazing.”

  A trail of bumps raised on her neck.

  Satisfied, he reached for her hand. “Shall we?”

  They waved a couple more times and then entered the front lobby. The place was cordoned off so that they could just keep walking to their event, separate from the crowds in the lobby. Every eye was on them. So he stopped and began his signature dance; she joined him, and everyone laughed. “Cool it, Little Dawg, you’re stealing my thunder.”

  “I’m growing your thunder. You want more talk, more press, right?”

  “For the program.”

  “It’s coming.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  They entered the ballroom and Harlow whispered, “Whoa.”

  He turned to her. And then followed the direction of her gaze.

  “Everyone is here.”

  Mr. Stacy approached with an overly charming smile. “Oh good, Cole. I’m glad you’re here. Harlow. Good to see you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He winked at her. “You don’t mind if we steal Cole for a little bit, do you? This is a working gig, if you know what I mean.”

  She looked to him and back to Mr. Stacy. “I don’t mind, of course. Do what you need to do.”

  Cole nodded at her and squeezed her hand, followed Mr. Stacy, but a sick feeling started in his gut.

  “She’s not who I had in mind when I said someone you could tweet about.”

  “She’s perfect, boss. We’re working on a huge publicity thing right now.”

  Stacy smiled and waved to several others across the room. “That’s great and I appreciate the thought, but it’s small fry compared to what you’re about to see.” They approached a glittering flashy blonde who had a crowd of hopefuls. Cole recognized her but couldn’t place her. She might be the most perfectly proportioned woman he had ever seen.

  Mr. Stacy pushed through the crowd of broad-shouldered suit coats and held out his hand. “Trista McKinney, I’d like you to meet Cole Hunter.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, and the small smile she had been gracing the world with grew to one of open appreciation. “Cole Hunter. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She stepped forward through the men and placed a hand on his arm. “Let’s take a walk, get to know each other better?”

  Stacy patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “You can thank me later.”

  Cole kicked into his role, his part he played. “Well, now Sunshine. Pleasure is what we’re all about tonight. How have I never met you before now?”

  They laughed and talked and said all the right flirty things. He smiled and waved to others, and noticed that very quickly they were the center of attention. And Harlow was nowhere to be seen.

  Music started and the floor filled with couples. He pulled her close. “Wanna dance?”

  “You know I do.” Her voice came out as a purr and they moved to the music.

  A small thought hoped Harlow had found a partner, hoped she’d understand. They’d have to touch base and share notes as soon as he gave Trista the attention she thought she deserved. Never a good idea to slight someone of her caliber. “Have I seen you in any movies?”

  Her laugh, well-practiced and beautiful, rang through the air around them. “Very funny, Cole, have I seen you in any baseball games?”

  He guessed that meant she was in fact famous and in many movies. Or something.

  They danced, they circled the room, made their introductions, posed for more pictures than he could count, and at last, she slipped her hand in his pocket and whispered. “I’ve put my number in there. Use it soon.” Then she kissed his cheek and left him.

  As soon as she left his arms, he looked for Harlow. A circle of people crowded around him. Guys patting his back, wanting to talk shop, ladies filling the empty space on his arms. And as his gaze flitted through the room, Harlow was nowhere to be seen. A spark of irritation lit. Why couldn’t she have come forward with everyone else? Now he was trapped.

  The night continued, and he looked, but never saw Harlow again.

  The crowd was thinning, and he wanted to go home. His irritation grew. Mr. Stacy approached. “Harlow left this for you a couple hours ago. I forgot to pass it along.”

  Sure he forgot.

  “Oh, and excellent work, tonight. The tweets, the plan. Everything worked out great. You’re trending everywhere.”

  He only half heard him, his hands opened up the folded note.

  I’m going home. Looks like a success
. We did it. See you in Seneca Falls.

  He crumbled the note. What a waste of an evening he could have spent with Harlow. He’d never get her back with an opportunity like this again; he was sure of it.

  Chapter 24

  Harlow caught the earliest plane she could back to Belltown. For all her talk of wanting to move on from the Belltown small life, arriving after difficult moments reminded her how much of a warm welcome the small university offered even in the chilly April of early spring. The tiny yellow buds on the Forsythia branches were trying to make an appearance, and their efforts of cheer on the otherwise still stark landscape gave her courage.

  Even though she knew Cole couldn’t mean anything to her, even though she should have expected he would have to play his part, dance to the owner’s expectations, entertain his fans, she had been blindsided by Trista McKinney, the hottest new star to hit the press. And that hot new star had been all over Cole Hunter, who Stacy was trying to make into the hottest new baseball player to hit the field. Harlow knew all along she was way out of her league with Cole. He’d moved on, or he should, from the small university life. And Harlow was just holding him back.

  Aiysha’s name appeared on her screen.

  Harlow answered. “Hello.”

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Open Twitter.”

  Oh boy. Harlow tapped on the app and nearly dropped it. Ten thousand notifications. Trending. #harlowandcole #harlowheckles #heckleharlow #tristawinsout. She gritted her teeth and tapped on the last one. Image after image of Trista in his arms, Trista leaning over him, Trista kissing his cheek and the remaining lipstick. Cole with a lipstick-marked face was a meme already, trending. All the reasons Harlow had left early were now blasted all over the place. And then a link: Don’t heckle with the hot stuff. She tapped on it. The first sentence, “Looks like the bonfire has finally been doused.” And a picture of Harlow, staring across the room at the gala right before she had walked out. Her face did show a bit of the deflation she’d felt. The article ended with, “Still heckling now?”

  “This is pretty rough.”