Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  Cole takes my hand and leads me to first base. Casually, trying not to be noticed, I touch the small post that anchors the base with the tip of my shoe.

  “Want to try it?” he asks.

  “Try what?”

  “I saw what you did there. You touched the base. You could take your shoes off and have a go at it. Feel what it’s like to run the bases. It’s safe. There’s not a stone or pebble to be found.”

  “First of all, there’s no base, just a metal post. And there’s no way I will ever let you see me run. You’re sure to lose all respect for me and it’s too soon to let that happen.”

  “There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me lose respect for you. Unless you suddenly become a Red Sox fan. That, in my book, would be a deal breaker. What could possibly be so bad about watching you run that would make me change my mind?”

  “Have you ever watched Friends?” I ask. “You know, the episode where Phoebe and Rachel go jogging?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Well, Phoebe runs like an lunatic because she said it makes running a lot more fun. I look like a total spaz when I run and I know it. The only different between me and Phoebe is that I care.” I tip my head back and look Cole square in the eyes. “And that’s why I don’t run.”

  He shakes his head, his expression changing from mild amusement to . . . something else. “Okay, crazy lady. Whatever you say.”

  While I refuse to run (and always will), I do take his advice and remove my shoes, curious to feel the grass and clay between my toes. It makes the whole experience more real somehow.

  Slowly, we approach second base and I brazenly reach out and tap the post with my big toe. Suddenly, an image of me running, tripping, and landing face first into the tiny post flashes before me. There’s absolutely no way I’ll be running around here tonight. Or any night in the future, either.

  He takes me by the hand so we can continue to third.

  Once there, I leap forward and land both feet on the space where the base belongs and cry victory. “Stand up triple.”

  He high-fives me. “Nice play.”

  We make our way to home plate, the place where we started. Looking all around us and above, I am humbled. The night sky stands like an inky canopy of darkness, where just hours ago it had been a blue summer's day. A smattering of luminous stars materialize amongst the ocean of blackness. Some are dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, but there is an adequate amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark, moonless night. The faint wind brushes against my arm, sending a chill down my spine.

  I am breathless. I want this, heart and soul. I could fall into him in a blink and lose myself in him in a breath.

  “I should tell you something,” I whisper.

  “What?”

  I feel him look over at me, but I just look up at the black night sky above the dimly lit, empty stadium. “I want to ride you like a pogo stick.”

  “What?!” He stops abruptly, leans over me, and makes me look him in the eye. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  “Your hearing is perfectly fine, cowboy.”

  I’ve never seen anyone move so quickly in my life. He pulls me by the wrist and starts dragging me off the field.

  “Slow down! Cole, your legs are longer than mine!” I’m practically running behind him, and he stops abruptly and turns back to me. He looks pissed, his eyes narrowed and on fire, mouth tight, jaw clenched.

  “Now, as much as I want to strip you naked and take you right there in the dugout, I don’t need those photos surfacing on the Internet any more than you do.”

  And with that he bends down and in one swift move, lifts me onto his shoulder and begins carrying me off the field, moving just as quickly as before.

  “I can walk,” I remind him.

  “Not fast enough,” he mutters and slaps my ass.

  “Hey!”

  “You deserve that and more. Now stay still, Kenny.”

  Holy fuck.

  When we get to the truck, he sets me on my feet and then helps me into the passenger seat. He walks briskly around the car and folds himself easily behind the wheel, starts the engine and pulls out of the garage, speeding toward the freeway. His handsome face is scowling and he won’t look at me. I’m not sure what to think. Is he pissed? Too much sexual frustration? Well, join the club, sexy man.

  “Um . . .” I start but he interrupts me.

  “Don’t talk.”

  CHAPTER 30

  THE SOUND OF A PHONE PINGING ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE wakes me from a sound sleep. I am just about to reach for it when I suddenly become aware of the heat of his body.

  Cole.

  One of his arms is curled tightly around my waist. His left leg is nestled between mine, and his cock is pressed against the round cheeks of my ass. I don’t dare move for fear of waking him. He hasn’t slept in his own bed in a week and I’m not going to interrupt his slumber. No matter how much I may want to.

  Last night was amazing. We spent hours enjoying one another. It’s as if everything outside these four walls ceased to exist. No drama, no chaos, no doubt, and no more distance between us. I could lie here in his arms for a lifetime. If he will have me.

  A nibble on my neck tells me that I’m not the only one awake any more. Soft kisses trail across my shoulder, back up to my neck, and pause briefly at my ear. “I am seriously addicted to you.”

  I turn to face him. He gives me a sleepy, sexy smile as I hitch my leg over his and his cock strains further against me. “Morning,” I purr, sliding my arm around his shoulder and moving in closer for a kiss.

  “I want to wake up like this every morning,” he says, caressing my body as he moves his hips into mine.

  I weave my fingers through his hair, twisting and turning the locks between my fingers, enjoying the closeness I’ve missed so much over this past week.

  “Mmm . . .” he hums, titling his head down so that I can massage his scalp.

  He notices me peering over his shoulder, trying to steal a glance at the clock on his dresser. “What time is it?” he asks.

  Craning my neck, I look and tell him, “A little after seven.”

  “Seven? We only went to sleep a few hours ago. You are insatiable.”

  “Two things. One – when it comes to you, yes! I am insatiable and I will never get enough. Two – I would still be sound asleep right now if it wasn’t for your phone going off and your,” I wiggle my hips to help me make my point, “Happy Gilmore.”

  “Oh, really? My Happy Gilmore you say?” He throws me onto my back and hovers maliciously above me. “If it’s movie references we’re going for, I think Blue Steel would be a much better choice.” He places a kiss on the top of my head as he reaches over to grab his phone.

  As he retrieves the recent message, I watch as his playful expression is wiped clean and replaced with one of concern. He tosses the phone to the side with a firm, “No.”

  “No?” I ask.

  “No. I’m not going to answer it. Nothing and no one is going to ruin this perfect day.” He climbs off me and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “So, what do you want to do today?” He glances at me just before his very fine, very firm naked ass disappears into his bathroom.

  “Oh, I have some ideas,” I call back to him.

  The sun is shining brightly in the afternoon sky as we approach my hometown. The minute we pull off the Long Island Expressway, everything slows down. We are just a hop-skip-and-a-jump away from the Hamptons and the town council here is very careful about issuing building permits. As a result there are very few strip malls, convenience stores, or gas stations. It hasn’t been overdeveloped like some other parts of the island.

  The closer we get to my home, the more anxious I become. There is a reason Philip and I have moved two hours away, and Cole is about to learn why.

  We pull onto my street and everything is as I remember it. It’s only been six months or so since I’ve come back home, but it feels so muc
h longer. The tree-lined street is in full bloom with all sorts of flowering shrubs and flowerbeds. The houses are situated fairly far apart. Each home is set back from the street with a large front yard and plenty of grass to mow.

  We pull into a long driveway lined with trees and simple but tasteful landscaping. Cole lets out a sigh; he’s impressed. My childhood home is beautiful: a two-story craftsman style home with a large front porch.

  We park in front of the two-car garage on the side of the house. There is a side entrance that leads directly into the mudroom off the kitchen.

  “You made it!” my mother calls out when she hears the door open. She’s standing at the stove cooking dinner when we arrive. She turns the flame down on low, wipes her hands on a nearby towel, and hurries to welcome us.

  I wrap my arms around my mother’s small frame. She’s just a hair above five feet tall and she’s changed her hair. Again. Currently, it’s a deep cherry red that nears purple and it’s cut in an angled bob. Not a hair is out of place.

  I close my eyes and breathe her in. She still wears the same perfume she always has – Shalimar. I am immediately transported to my childhood. It feels good to be home.

  I notice my mother, arms still wrapped tightly around me, inch her head up slowly. She pushes away, and tilts her head back enough to see the full frame of the man I have brought with me. “Mom, this is Cole Horatio McGuire.”

  Cole smiles politely and holds out his hand. “Cole, this is my mother, Angela Harper.”

  “Mrs. Angela Prisco Harper,” she corrects. “It’s lovely to meet you, Cole. My goodness, aren’t you a lot to take in?”

  “So I’ve been told.” He smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  She snickers. “If you promise to believe half of what you’ve heard, I promise to believe only half of what I’ve read, and we should get along just fine.”

  “Mom!” I interject.

  “Now Kensington, you and I both know that there has been plenty to read on the interweb about these McGuire boys. And not all of it is complimentary.”

  “Internet, Mom. Not interweb. You know . . .” I begin.

  She cuts me off mid-sentence. “Oh, I know most of it isn’t really about him, but his playboy cousin, Evan. But I have learned over the years that where there’s smoke there’s usually fire and I’ve noticed more than a little smoke over the past week or so.”

  Cole and I look at each other, puzzled. What have we missed?

  “Come on now, don’t tell me that neither one of you read TMZ, Perez Hilton, or C! online?”

  We shake our heads.

  She rolls her eyes. “Well, if you had, you’d know that there are quite a few stories written about Cole spending time with that girl from the American Cancer Society. And before you can interrupt me, there were pictures, too, so I know it’s not all fiction. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  She smiles curtly and returns to stirring the tomato sauce stewing on the stove.

  “She’s just talking about that fundraiser you attended last week,” I assure Cole. “Mom, don’t make a big deal out of this. That woman was an old friend and Cole was only there for charity.”

  “Friend? Is that what you kids call it these days? Now, I don’t mean to stir up trouble,” she begins to argue.

  I laugh, “Ha!”

  She stares me down and continues. “But if that’s all it was,” she diverts her attention to Cole now, “and I’m sure it was, then why was she at your baseball game? And you two were out shopping together in Atlanta, too. That Perez Hilton seems to think it was a little more than a casual friendship and he’s usually right about those things.”

  Refusing to allow my mother to get under my skin, I brush her off. “Mom, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, but not one that Cole needs to give to you.”

  “That’s fine dear. Your father is in the office working on that silly model airplane of his. Why don’t you two go stick your head in and say hello?”

  Cole attempts to put out the fire. “Mrs. Harper, I’d like to assure you that...”

  But my mother will have none of it, preferring instead to fan the flames. “That’s alright, Cole. If Kensington is satisfied with your explanation, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  I drag Cole by the arm, pulling him away. There’s no sense in trying to change her mind. If she thinks there’s something to be concerned about, there’s not much anyone can say to make her think differently.

  Halfway down the hallway, we pass the bathroom and Cole ducks in, pulling me in with him. He closes the door, shutting us inside alone.

  He sits on the edge of the tub and pulls me between his legs. I wrap my arms around his neck and he places his on my waist. “Kenny, I was going to tell you about that and if I knew there were pictures online, I would have told you much sooner. But you have to believe me, nothing happened.”

  I tilt my head down so our temples touch. “Cole, please don’t let her get to you. She does that. She likes to stir the pot and then sit back and watch everything boil over. I learned a long time ago not to get caught up in her drama.”

  He lets out big exhale and smiles. “Thank you. I wish your mother didn’t read that trash, but honestly, your opinion is the only one that matters to me.”

  I shift over and sit on his lap. “Just out of curiosity, was she really at one of your games in Atlanta?”

  “She was, but –”

  “And did you take her out shopping while you were there?”

  “Yes. No.” He sighs. “Yes.”

  “Cole, I don’t know what happened and this is definitely not the time to have a long conversation, but if you tell me to trust you, then I will. But . . .”

  Before I can finish, he kisses me. I tangle my fingers in his hair, close my eyes, and revel in the delightful sensations coursing through my body. I am caught in his spell, and I momentarily forget that we are in my parents’ home, their bathroom no less. But when he nibbles on my lip and our tongues play and tease, I lose all train of thought.

  I pull away just enough to speak, “We need to go before we get caught.”

  Reluctantly, he helps me off his lap, stands, and adjusts his pants. I love what he does to me, but frankly, I love that I can still have that effect on him, even under these circumstances.

  I guide him down the hallway and into my father’s office. He works from home a lot and I have been trained from an early age that if the door is closed, I am not to enter. But if it’s open, I can walk right in. Luckily, the door is wide open and I find him sitting at his oversized desk working on a model of the Apollo 11 spacecraft.

  The moment he sees me, he puts down his tools and walks right over to us. “Kitten – you’re here!” He wraps his arms around me and I can feel the love pouring from him.

  “Hi Daddy,” I grin. I break away from him and make the introduction. “Daddy, this is Cole, the one I told you about.”

  He holds out his hand and shakes Cole’s. “Ed Harper. It’s great to meet you. You seem to have made quite an impression on my little girl here,” he says, beaming down at me.

  “It sounds like I’ve made an impression on your wife, too,” Cole reluctantly replies.

  “Ah, pfff – don’t let that bother you. I swear, that woman’s not happy unless she’s in the middle of some sort of drama.” He gives Cole a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

  “See? I told you,” I tell him. I smile at my father. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Kitten.”

  Cole strikes up a conversation with my father. I’ve given him some ammunition to use in order to break the ice. “So, I hear you’re a bit of a duck hunter. Are these some of your decoys?”

  My father loves showing off his decoys. He has them on display on the mantle above the fireplace. Some he’s bought and others he’s made. I’ve often thought that he starts these projects to escape from my mother. Maybe it’s one of the reasons why he frequently travels for work, too
.

  The two men chat about all sorts of things while I slip away. I want to sneak up to my room before Philip and Megan arrive. I don’t think Cole has much interest in seeing the bedroom of a teenage girl, so now seems like the perfect opportunity to take a stroll down memory lane.

  I traipse up the stairs to my room. There’s a four-paned window that overlooks the front yard. I flip on the bedroom light, illuminating the lamp that sits on the single nightstand next to the bed. The light casts a shadow on the plain beige walls and wood plank flooring. I always wanted carpet in my bedroom, something warm and comfy under my feet when I wasn’t wearing socks or shoes. But my mother would not have it. It was her house, after all, and I could have all the carpeting I wanted when I got my own home she would tell me.

  My white laminate desk is still here, with my old computer and printer still sitting on it. I walk over and sweep my hand across the keys. I spent many hours here, alone in my room, writing. Truth be told, many of the chapters of “Before I Forget” were written right here.

  On top of a tall white dresser are a stack of books and a small decorative lamp. And in the corner of the room stands an iron coat rack, long empty of coats and clothing.

  This room, the room I’d spent all of my youth growing up in, is barren. A shell of what it once was. No longer filled with all the things that make a life full and joyous.

  All the fragments of my existence have been long removed. A tinge of sadness flows into my chest.

  I feel him before I see him. Wordlessly, I walk over to him and grab the front of his shirt with both hands. I desperately need him to wash away my self-pity.

  He walks backward to the bed, pulling me down with him. We kick our shoes off and twine our clothed bodies together, passionately kissing each other.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur on his lips, staring directly into his open eyes as I say it. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have made you come here.”

  “No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault I got off on the wrong foot with your mother. I promise, before I leave, I’ll clean up this mess.”

  I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he softly strokes my hair. He kisses my head several times and wraps his arms around me tighter.