SPIKED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  I stood, smoothing my skirt. “Congratulations on all of your success,” I muttered, shooting him a dirty look. “And welcome back.”

  I strode across the room, looking for Annie. Torn between ordering a few shots or storming out of the place. I was halfway to the bar when a hand on my arm stopped me. I spun to say something witty to him, but lost my balance on the heels as he pulled me toward the waiting darkness of a coat closet.

  2

  I caught only a glimpse of him before the door slammed shut behind us, plunging us into the dark.

  “What the hell, Landon!” I said, swatting his hand off of my arm.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, with no trace of the amusement I’d heard earlier.

  I wrenched my arm away. “In a freaking closet? Who exactly are we hiding from?”

  Silence fell, and I wished I could see his expression in the shadows. Instead I could only smell him, a rich and masculine cologne that had me dangerously close to leaning in.

  “You didn’t seem to mind a closet before, as I recall-”

  I smacked his chest with two hands, intending to push him back. But he was like a brick wall, and it backfired. He grabbed my wrists.

  “I came back for you.”

  His words made me still, the need and urgency in his voice silencing all of my fury and anger and even my fluttering heart.

  But then it all returned with a vengeance.

  His words would’ve meant more a few years ago. Back when I was a confused, lost eighteen-year- old, desperate for his call, his letter, his anything.

  But I wasn’t that girl anymore, and I didn’t want to fall for him all over again. No matter how well he filled out his clothes, no matter how good he looked in his expensive suit.

  I laughed, and it came out twisted and bitter. “I’m supposed to just believe that, huh?”

  He leaned in, and I could feel his breath hot against my cheek. “Maybe not right away. But you will.”

  “The thing is, Landon, I don’t want to believe you any more. You wrecked me when you disappeared, and I’m not willing to risk that again. No matter how convincing you can be.”

  I leaned back, pulling my arms away from him, but he only held tighter, and the momentum made me crash back into his chest. The air left my lungs as my skirt swung against his legs. His pants felt smooth as silk against my bare calves, and I was suddenly short of breath.

  “Please,” I said, quietly, no longer sure what I wanted, what I was asking him for.

  But when he leaned down, his lips brushing against mine, I knew.

  If he hadn’t been holding me up, pinning me against his chest, I would’ve fallen, my knees buckling underneath me as my eyes slammed shut. His mouth was familiar and foreign all at once, my memories crashing back into me. I could picture him like he’d been those few years back….his taut body hovering over me, just before he pressed me into the mattress, leaving me breathless.

  And then suddenly he pulled back abruptly, leaving me short of breath and feeling empty. The past and the present had merged for a short time, leaving me confused now that I was firmly in the now once more.

  I opened my eyes, confused, and then blinked against the light.

  Wait.

  The light? Someone had turned on the overhead bulb.

  I spun around, taking in a strange man standing at the door, one hand still on the knob. The closet light shone over his head, illuminating his bright hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair. He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he stared past me, right at Landon. “Landon, buddy, not this again…” he said, waggling a finger at Landon. “Didn’t I tell you before, there are these places called hotels you can get when you want to do your business?”

  “Rylan,” Landon said, his voice low with warning.

  “One of these days, maybe I’ll learn to stop following you into darkened rooms…or maybe you’ll get some common sense and take your business somewhere a bit more private.” Rylan’s grin widened and he spun on his heel, slamming the door shut once again.

  His meaning was clear, and I felt dirty. Used.

  And stupid. Landon hadn’t changed. He was the same guy who’d left me behind all those years before. Maybe worse, because he was old enough to know better. I turned around and shoved him, hard. “Same old, same old, huh?”

  “Taryn-”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Consider this a temporary lapse of judgment on my part.”

  “Listen—”

  “And it won’t happen again,” I said, meaning it this time.

  I strode away, slamming the closet door behind me and leaving him behind.

  Twenty minutes later I pushed my way through the creaky front door of my house, angrily kicking off my borrowed silver heels. “Matt!” I hollered, shoving the bolt on the door and stomping across the living room.

  “Matt!” My voice was screechy, so high-pitched only dogs could hear it. I was boiling over, too angry that I’d been blindsided by Landon and his stupid fucking charm.

  “What?” my brother said, stepping out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a washcloth. “You don’t have to yell. Sheesh.”

  “You knew!”

  He leaned on the doorframe, acting casual in a way that didn’t quite feel genuine. “Knew what?”

  “That Landon was in town.”

  “So?” He tossed the washcloth at me, and I barely managed to grab it out of the air before it hit me in the face.

  “So why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, whipping the cloth back at him.

  “Why would I tell you? It’s not like you keep me apprised of Annie’s every move. He’s my friend, not yours.” He folded the washcloth, too casually, and retreated back into the kitchen.

  I followed, like a hunter following her retreating prey. I needed answers. I needed… something. “But it’s not like that, with us.”

  “How are we different?” he asked.

  I swallowed. I’d meant Landon and me when I’d said us, not me and Matt. “You barely even know Annie. It’s different with me and Landon. You know that.”

  “Apparently I don’t,” he said, sounding like he was talking to a child. “So enlighten me.”

  “Cut the crap, Matt. You know he and I were friends too. We hung out all the time--”

  He scoffed. “Yeah, because you had no job and no car. No life, really. You followed me everywhere.”

  I bit my lip. I never wanted to follow my brother. It was Landon was drawn to. Landon I couldn’t get enough of. “God you’re an ass.”

  He smiled, crinkling up the edges of his eyes. “You wound me, you really do.”

  “You’re impossible.” I crossed the room, flopping down on a kitchen chair. “And quit playing coy. You knew I’d care.”

  He leaned back against the kitchen counter, studying me. “But why do you care, that’s the question?”

  “I just thought…” I let my voice trail off.

  Matt didn’t know that Landon and I became something more, and the way he was eyeballing me right then, he was going to put the pieces together.

  “I just feel like you’re being weird these days,” I said, deciding to deflect rather than tell the truth. “And even though I don’t really care that Landon’s in town, I know you do, and I think it’s weird that you didn’t talk about it. Aren’t you excited that your best friend is back?”

  He turned to the fridge, taking out two diet cokes and sliding one over to me. “It’s cool. It’ll be good to go golfing with him again. Maybe we won’t even wreck the golf carts this time.”

  I laughed. “I hope he’s a better driver by now.”

  “We wrecked on purpose,” he said, popping the top of his soda with a hiss.

  “You did not!”

  “Yes we did,” he said, sipping the soda. “We were playing chicken. Turns out neither of us are chicken.”

  I laughed harder. “You guys were such morons.”

  “Can’t be that stupid. He’s pretty successful now.”

  “I f
igured that one out. Did you know he’s behind the new sports medicine facility?”

  He nodded. “It’s his third, you know. And he’s got two more under construction.”

  “Oh.”

  Matt continued rattling off facts. “The one in town’s a multi-million dollar facility. It’s already been endorsed by Michael Brant, you know from the Seattle Seahawks? Plus two Seattle Sounders professional soccer players.” He sounded proud.

  Meanwhile, I was stunned. I could have Googled the information about Landon but I’d decided a couple years ago to put him out of my mind and try my best to pretend he didn’t exist. Apparently, he did exist, however, and he was having quite the life.

  How the hell had he gone from the kid down the street to owner of three world class medical facilities?

  “Anyway, I’m going to go take a nap,” Matt said. “I’m beat.”

  “Tough day at work?”

  “Didn’t sleep well. I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, leaving me alone in the kitchen to ponder just who Landon had become since he left town.

  I put my feet up on the rickety chair across from me. It was leaning, one leg splayed out too far.

  There was a time my dad would’ve fixed it. Just like the dripping faucet and the crooked cabinet door next to the oven. But that was before Mom passed away, before a couple of dark years where my dad barely held it together.

  But things were turning around now. Dad was back at work. Maybe soon he would be back to the honey-do list.

  Even if he didn’t have a honey to make the list anymore.

  I frowned, ignoring the dark clouds creeping into the back of my mind. I wasn’t going down this path. Not tonight.

  Besides, I could fix the stupid chair myself.

  I was sitting on the dusty floor of my dad’s workshop, the chair upside down and my fingers practically glued together, staring at my handiwork.

  Not bad. It took a whole hour to figure out how to get the leg to line up right and stay that way while the glue dried, yet I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

  Lights splashed across the wall, and a car pulled into the drive.

  I stepped outside of the workshop just as my dad switched the lights off and stepped out of his car.

  “Hey,” I said, pinching my fingers together to test the tackiness. They stuck, slowly peeling away as I pulled them apart.

  “Hey, Ren,” he said, and I smiled involuntarily at the nickname. I’d hated that nickname, once upon a time. In high school when I thought I was too old for childish monikers.

  Now, though, it just reminded me of the time before everything fell apart. A time when my family bathed in the glow of love and happiness. We weren’t rich, but we didn’t need to be, either. We had each other.

  Before my mother’s cancer yanked it all apart, throwing our lives in a blender.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, taking in the open door behind me.

  “Just a little fix-it project.”

  I led him into the workshop, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

  “You fixed the chair,” he said with some surprise, but approval as well.

  “Hopefully.” I grinned. “No guarantees.”

  He slung an arm around my shoulders. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

  I elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m not a kid, dad, I’m twenty-one.”

  “I don’t care if you’re fifty, you’re still my kid. And I’m proud of you.”

  For what? I wanted to ask, but I resisted. I should have been finishing my degree. I should have been searching out internships and starting my career.

  Instead I was fixing old chairs and working at the mall. Yeah, lots to be proud of.

  But I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I didn’t say any of it. I just smiled up at him. “Feel like spaghetti?” I asked. “I think we have garlic bread.”

  “Sure,” he said, following me up the steps and into the house. “How was your day?”

  I pulled noodles out of the cupboard and filled a pot, pondering what to say to Dad about the man who’d reappeared in my life, striding right out of a Forbes magazine and seeing me in all my pathetic glory.

  I settled on nothing.

  “Pretty good. Went shopping with Annie. How about you?”

  “Great,” he said, with surprising bounce to his voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “They’re talking about giving me a new district to manage. My own company rig.”

  “Wow, really?” I turned, resting a hip on the counter. “Dad, that’s amazing.”

  “I guess they really missed me while I was out,” he said, beaming. “Sales took a dive and never quite came back. So now they want me to work with a couple new guys, figure out what they’re doing wrong and get them set up.”

  My heart swelled at the pride in his voice. He sounded more and more like his old self with every passing day. What had once seemed so impossible now seemed in our grasp. “That sounds like a promotion.”

  “It is,” he said, opening up his lunch cooler to reveal a bottle of champagne. “The formal offer came today.”

  “Dad that’s amazing!” I said, rushing over to hug him.

  Finally, finally, some good news in this house. We all deserved it. “I’m so proud of you!”

  I knew my words mirrored his own just moments before, but it was the truth. After a year of grieving, he’d pulled himself out of the dark place he’d been dwelling in. Gone back to work, proved his worth, and started building something.

  “Thanks, Ren. I knew you’d be excited.”

  His eyes shimmered, just the slightest bit, glittering with tears he was holding back. He wanted to celebrate with Mom. He wanted to dance across the kitchen the way they once did, celebrating his good news together, between kisses and laughter.

  I wanted that for him, too, more than I could stand to remember.

  “I’m going to shower. Go ahead and open that,” he said, leaving the kitchen.

  So maybe life wasn’t totally perfect yet. It would never really be perfect again.

  But maybe it was okay to be perfectly imperfect, and find happiness in the space my mom left behind.

  3

  The only upside to working at the mall was that it didn’t open until ten. By the time I arrived at work the next morning, my hair had air-dried and I’d had two cups of coffee.

  I’d needed that extra cup, since my sleep had been restless, filled with dreams of Landon Hill, and I’d woken up feeling like I wanted to sleep away the rest of the day if possible. But it wasn’t possible—I had work to do.

  The herbal supplements kiosk I ran was around the corner from Cinnabon, so I had to walk through the cinnamon and noxious sugar fumes as I arrived at work. The kiosk had roll down doors on each side, so I unlocked them and shoved them up, exposing the little plastic bottles and placards proclaiming things like “Lowers your blood pressure!” and “Improves circulation!”

  I didn’t really buy into that crap. I bought into a help wanted sign, nothing more. I wanted to be a chemist, not a natural remedist.

  I wasn’t even sure if remedist was a word, actually. It seemed like it should be.

  I busied myself dusting the bottles and arranging a new tower of zinc tablets, our biggest mover. It was a total crock, though, because according to one zillion studies, zinc wouldn’t actually cure a cold. One of these days, I was pretty sure I’d find a bottle of snake oil.

  I opened the cash drawer, counting out the hundred dollars’ worth of bills and change I was supposed to start each day with.

  And then I climbed up onto my stool and stared at my watch.

  10:07. Only seven hours and fifty-three more minutes sitting there.

  God, I hated my life sometimes.

  I slid out an issue of Cosmo, even though I’d read it cover to cover at least a dozen times. Maybe this read through, I’d master “101 ways to show him you’re interested!”

  Granted, the first tip was
to blink a lot so he “Meets your gaze and notices your dazzling eyes!” and I wasn’t sure I bought that one. I tried it with a customer six days ago when I first read it and he asked me if I had something in my eye.

  I flipped to the next page, which proclaimed that “Playing with your hair is sure to look flirty!” when I sensed someone standing beside me.

  I set the magazine in my lap, glancing up at my would-be customer.

  Except it wasn’t a customer at all.

  It was Landon-freaking-Hill. Yet again.

  I stared at him. Without blinking. I didn’t touch my hair. Or shove my shoulders back, which was sure to “draw attention to my best assets.”

  “Welcome to Herbal Remedy,” I said, in the best faux-customer service voice I could manage. “Home of the immune system kick start, for the bargain price of $19.99. How may I service you?”

  “I can think of a few ways,” he said quickly.

  I stared him dead in the eye, disdain dripping from my words. My cheeks flushed as the double meaning sunk in. “We don’t sell a remedy for being an asshole, just so you know. And if it’s an ED pill you’re after, that’s prescription only. Can’t help you there.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up, revealing a crooked smile. One that should’ve looked… I don’t know, something other than devastatingly handsome and maybe a little dangerous.

  “What do you want?” I snapped, desperate to change the subject. “My boss should be here any minute and I don’t want him to think I’m just hanging out with old friends.”

  His smile unfolded then, slow and lazy across his face, and dread spiraled through my limbs. He knew something I didn’t.

  “What?” I asked, hanging on to what nonchalance I had left. I stared at the register, trying to stop the knots in my stomach from multiplying.

  “See, here’s the thing…” His voice trailed off, and then, as if he realized I refused to look at him, he grabbed my chair on either sides of my thighs, twisting it around until I was facing him.