Black Roses (A Mitchell Sisters Novel)

by Samantha Christy

  Another look passes between my sisters. “Set you up with Mason?” Baylor laughs. “No. That wouldn’t happen even if you wanted it to. That man hasn’t shown interest in anyone in years.”

  “Of course not,” I say. “He has a girlfriend.”

  Skylar chokes on her drink. “Girlfriend? Mason? No, he doesn’t. He hasn’t been interested in anyone since Cassidy. That was over two years ago and we all know how that turned out.”

  “But earlier in the car, he told me he was in love.” I scratch my head in confusion. “I think his exact words were ‘I love her more than I ever thought one human being could love another’.”

  Baylor smiles. “Oh, you mean Hailey.”

  I shrug. “He never told me her name.”

  Laughing, Skylar says, “He didn’t tell you Hailey is his daughter and not his girlfriend? That’s classic Mason.”

  “His what?” I look between my sisters. “Isn’t he a bit young to have a daughter?” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  Baylor raises her eyebrows at me. “I was younger than he was, Pipes. He’s twenty-two. Plenty old enough to have kids.”

  “Kids?” I gasp. “As in more than one?”

  “No, just Hailey.” Skylar places Aaron in a bassinette. “She’s about twenty months old, wouldn’t you say, Baylor?”

  Baylor nods. “God, that child is freaking adorable. Thank goodness she got her looks from her dad and not her bitch of a mom.”

  Thankfully, before I get to hear any more about the adorable little girl, the front door opens and in walks a gaggle of men. And one very cute nine-year-old boy.

  “Aunt Piper!” Maddox runs across the floor and jumps into my arms.

  “Mad Max!” I squeeze him tightly and spin him around. I have the best memories of Maddox. Baylor had him when she was nineteen. She moved home to work at Mitchell’s and finish her degree, so she needed a lot of help from me. I was only fourteen at the time, but I became his primary babysitter. Until I left. But those few years were all it took to forge a lasting bond between the two of us. He’s the only kid I really truly love to pieces. I mean, sure, I like the other ones. But I know I’ll never connect with them the way I connected with Maddox.

  Maddox and I catch up while the others remove their coats and head over to grab a bite to eat. No wonder they ordered so much.

  Gavin pulls me into a bear hug. We’ve only met the one time, at his and Baylor’s wedding, but he’s my brother-in-law, so I let him hug me. Then Skylar introduces me to Griffin, who thanks me profusely for coming back to town to help plan their big day.

  Mason raises his chin to me in greeting. No hug. No handshake from his extraordinarily large hand. Not even a word of hello. Geez, dick is right. It’s just as well. I don’t want to know him either. Not beyond the wedding duties bestowed upon us from Skylar and Griffin.

  Baylor puts Jordan into a play saucer, keeping her busy with all of the toys at her eye level. “Gavin, Piper wants to run in the Boston Marathon. Do you have any strings you can pull at the studio to get her in?”

  He ponders her question and then shakes his head. “I’ll ask around, but I don’t think so. We worked with the New York Marathon quite a bit.” He turns to me. “Too bad you missed it last month, I could have for sure gotten you into that one.” He points his fork at Mason. “What about you, Mason—can the Giants get her in?”

  Mason gives Gavin a look of death. He spears him with his eyes as if Gavin has just asked him to cut off his throwing arm. Then Mason turns to me. He stares at my two-toned hair. His eyes hone in on my nose piercing. “You’re an athlete?”

  My jaw drops at his inconsiderate remark. “Not an athlete. A runner.” I close my eyes briefly, thinking of the poetic accuracy of that statement.

  Mason shakes his head. “You’re not an athlete. Athletes don’t have nose piercings, neon-colored fingernails, and weird hair. And your legs are too short to make good qualifying times. You know you have to have good qualifying times, right?”

  I refrain from shouting expletives at the man, due to the fact that my impressionable nine-year-old nephew is sitting in the kitchen. Instead, I calmly pour myself another glass of champagne and drink it down completely.

  “Plus, athletes don’t drink like sailors on leave,” he adds.

  That’s it. I walk over behind Maddox and cup my hands over his ears. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Mason. How dare you assume that because I’m a little different, I can’t possibly be someone who could have anything in common with the kind of person you are. Which at this point, I’m sure is a self-centered, fame-hungry man-whore with a tiny little penis who drives an over-the-top car to attract anything with a vagina. Well, listen up, Dick, and listen good. I’m registered with AIMS, which I’m sure with your pea-sized jock-brain, you don’t know stands for the Association of International Marathons. And I assure you I have more than enough certified qualifying times to run in the Boston Marathon. I’m sure, in fact, that this little girl with her short legs and nose piercing could beat the ass off your big-boned, callus-handed, narcissistic marathon time.”

  I remove my hands from Maddox’s ears and kiss the top of his head before walking away. It’s then I notice the entire room has gone silent and all eyes are pinballing between Mason and me.

  Mason walks over and ruffles Maddox’s hair before proceeding to cover his ears just as I did. “In my off-season, I’ve been training for the marathon. And yes, I can get you in. So, Piper Mitchell—game fucking on!”

  He walks to the fridge and helps himself to a beer. His faded, snug jeans show off his tapered waist and muscular thighs. He gulps half the bottle down as the rest of us watch, stunned into silence. “And I’ll even let you work with my trainer at the gym,” he adds. “You’ll like her. She’s got funky hair and odd piercings, too.” He picks up an unopened box of food and tucks it under his arm. Finishing his beer, he puts the empty bottle in the trash and walks to the door. “Now if you guys will excuse me, I have to go pick up Hailey. It’s my weekend.” He reaches the door handle and turns back to me. “You can start Monday. After you’ve recovered from your jet lag. But for Christ’s sake—quit drinking.”

  I stare at the closed door long after he walks through it. Then I look back at my sisters who are gaping at me. “Ugh! Me stop drinking? He just chugged a beer. How do you guys put up with that man?” I walk over and pour myself another glass of champagne just out of spite, knowing I’ll have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

  I lean against the counter and take a sip of the bubbly liquid. Then I notice the room is still so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

  “You like him!” Skylar’s smile spans ear to ear and she’s practically bouncing in her chair. “Oh, my God, Piper—you like a boy. You’re not gay!”

  Champagne spurts from my mouth at her words. “Gay—you thought I was gay?” I look from Skylar to Baylor, gauging their reactions.

  “Well, you’ve never talked about a boyfriend. You seem to have such a . . . distaste for men,” Baylor says. “And then there is Charlie—”

  “Who is my best friend,” I assert. “Not my girlfriend. Charlie, my heterosexual friend who is currently shacking up with some random guy she shagged last year while she waits for me to return. Which is one more reason I can’t stay here a minute longer than necessary. And like Mason? That jerk—are you kidding me? I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. I’m sure he’s just like all the other stuck-up athletes who think they’re God’s gift to mankind. No, the only interest I have in him is that he can get me into the marathon.”

  My sisters share another look. When did they get so damn good at nonverbal communication with each other?

  “Whatever,” I pout. I fetch my heavy suitcase and head for the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

  Griffin hops up and grabs my suitcase from me. “Let me show you to your room.”

  And only because I’m about to fall over from jet lag, alcohol and frustrat
ion, I let a man help me.

  chapter four

  mason

  Gavin and Griffin run up behind me on the indoor track, flanking my sides. “Training for the Boston Marathon, huh?” Gavin asks. “Since when?”

  “I’ll bet since about two seconds after Piper said she could beat him,” Griffin says.

  They laugh and sprint ahead of me, not needing to pace themselves like I do. I shake my head at my stupidity for the tenth time since I opened my big mouth yesterday. I’ve never been the kind of person who is overly competitive. That might come as a surprise for some, considering my profession. And maybe it explains why I chose to stay with the Giants after Henley’s retirement retraction instead of trying to get traded for a starting position. But for some reason, that girl—that woman—rubs me the wrong way and I couldn’t help but accept her challenge.

  I didn’t sleep very well last night. I wondered if I had made false promises. I didn’t know for sure if I could even get in the race myself, let alone get Piper in. But this morning, when the charity coordinator for the Giants organization returned my call saying it was all good, I breathed a sigh of relief. Or maybe it was a sigh of exasperation knowing how I let her get under my skin again. After all, I did have to pledge five figures on each of our behalves.

  One day. I’ve known Piper Mitchell for one goddamn day and can’t stop thinking about her. She’s nothing like the women I used to be attracted to. Nothing like Hailey’s mom. Nothing like the swarms of fans who try to drape themselves all over me when they find out I play pro ball.

  “Speaking of Piper,” Gavin says, as they come up behind me again, lapping me on the quarter-mile track.

  I give him a hard stare. “I wasn’t speaking of Piper—you were.” I slow my pace, thinking they’ll just run ahead of me.

  I watch the two of them turn around and jog backwards. “You interested, Dix?” Griffin asks.

  I play dumb. “Interested in what?”

  “Interested in Piper, you tool.”

  Of course I’m interested. Who wouldn’t be? Well, with the exception of guys who don’t like pushy, stubborn, infuriating women. What the hell am I thinking?

  “Of course not.” I check my watch and head off the track to find a towel. “No offense, because you guys are with her sisters and all, but she’s a grade-A bitch.”

  We all take a towel from the stack and wipe our faces. Gavin furrows his brow. “Then why accept her challenge? And why the marathon? I mean, that’s a pretty big undertaking, Mason.”

  “I need to push myself. The stronger I get, the more likely I’ll win that starting position.”

  “When do you report back for off-season conditioning?” Griffin asks.

  “April 22nd,” I say. Then I wait for it.

  “Two days after the marathon?” Griffin shakes his head at me, laughing. “Dude, do you have a death wish?”

  “It’s all good,” I tell them. “The first two weeks of conditioning are limited to strength training and rehabilitation. We don’t get into the heavy stuff for a while.”

  Gavin snaps me with his towel. “Rehab—well that sounds about right, after running a marathon.”

  “You sure you’re okay with our May 15th wedding date?” Griffin asks. “Isn’t that right in the middle of off-season training?”

  “I’m sure, G. I already checked with the training coordinator. We don’t condition on weekends until closer to pre-season and there are really only ten mandatory days of mini-camps that I need to attend. But I plan on being there every chance I get. I’m even going to the rookie camp. I need to show everyone I’ve got what it takes, and sometimes that works better doing it from the ground up.”

  “We know you have what it takes, Dix.” Griffin throws his dirty towel into the hamper. “Johnny Henley really screwed you over. But, man, you’ve handled it with grace and dignity—that’s nothing to be taken lightly. You’ll get there one day. We all have faith in you.”

  Faith. Every time I hear that word, I think of Griffin’s first wife, Erin. She was always talking about faith, fate and family and how you should trust each to guide you. God, I miss her.

  Thinking of Erin reminds me that I promised to take Skylar to get a tattoo. She wants to surprise Griffin by getting the same tattoo Erin had. Looking in from the outside, one would think their situation was really messed up. On the contrary, I think Skylar and Griffin are my fucking heroes. Not many people could have done what they did. Take a crappy situation and turn it into something great.

  “You coming to brunch tomorrow?” Gavin shouts from the shower stall next to mine.

  Brunch. I love Sunday brunch with the Mitchell gang, especially when I have Hailey with me. They dote on her and she loves playing with Maddox and the babies. But going would mean having another run-in with the youngest Mitchell sister. After last night, I don’t think it would be wise. I don’t want to ruin brunch for everyone, and I think a few days without seeing Piper will help me gain a little perspective. I don’t need complications in my life that could distract me from my goal of becoming a starter. Hailey and football—that’s all I can handle right now. That’s all I want to handle.

  After our showers, we agree to meet for drinks tomorrow and then I head to the gym daycare to grab my daughter.

  I look through the large picture window to see Hailey playing next to a few other toddlers. I stare at her through the glass. She still takes my breath away every time I see her. She has this little cherub face framed by my platinum-blonde hair. I tried to tie it up into a bow, but I’m far from perfecting it and it has once again come loose, causing her long hair to mess and tangle. I know I’m in for some tears later when I brush it out. But first, I’m going to take her to the park. She loves the horses. And I will do anything to see her gorgeous little smile.

  Her face lights up when she sees me coming. “Dada!” she squeals and toddles her way over to me as I melt into a pile of goo at her melodious, high-pitched voice.

  I scoop her into my arms, peppering her face with kisses before I thank the staff and head out to my car. My—what did she call it—‘over-the-top car to attract anything with a vagina?’ Yes, it’s sporty. Yes, it’s fancy. But what she monumentally failed to notice yesterday when I drove her home, was Hailey’s car seat in the back. It was my one requirement when car shopping. A great sports car with a back seat. Had I known at the time that women would drool over it, I might have reconsidered my decision and bought a mini-van. If my car is a chick-magnet, a mini-van is repellent.

  Driving to the park, I momentarily think of trading in my one prized possession. But the moment passes when I rationalize it’s not my problem. It’s theirs—all those women who shamelessly throw themselves at any player on the roster in hopes that they’ll get their fifteen minutes of fame.

  I made that mistake once. I won’t make it again. And although it resulted in the best thing that ever happened to me—Hailey, I’m not willing to risk it. So, ever since Cassidy showed up seven months pregnant, demanding a marriage proposal, I’ve been celibate. Almost two years since I’ve had sex. My left hand has become my best friend and my only source of relief. Funny how I even made a conscious decision to use my left hand—strengthening my non-dominant arm in the process.

  After a pony ride, Hailey starts to get cranky, a sure sign that she’s hungry. Mitchell’s isn’t far, so I make the five-block walk with my little girl on my back.

  Walking through the door into the welcome blast of warm air, I practically run over the one person who shouldn’t be here. I give her a disapproving stare. “Is this how you spend your maternity leave, Skylar? You know maternity leave means you don’t have to show up for work, right?”

  She looks sheepishly at me. “I can’t help it. I don’t want the place to go to shit while I’m gone. I’m only here for a few minutes to make sure it’s being run properly in my absence.”

  I pull her with me to the hostess stand. “Table for three,” I say, looking at Skylar instead of the hostess.
<
br />   Skylar looks longingly back at the kitchen and then sighs. “Okay, fine. But only because I want to spend time with this gorgeous girl. How are you, Hailey?”

  “Up, up!” She holds her hands out to Skylar who willingly sweeps her up into a hug.

  Skylar has us seated close to the kitchen, presumably so she’ll be able to hear if there are any crises that need her attention.

  “So, where’s Aaron? Too young to take out yet?”

  She shakes her head. “No, we’ve been taking him all kinds of places, but Griffin doesn’t let anyone touch him. He’s kind of vigilant about it. And he carries a huge container of hand sanitizer for us to use whenever we touch things like door handles and elevator buttons. It’s pretty comical, and I’m not afraid to say, annoying at times. But I put up with it because I know he’s trying to keep him from getting sick. He’s had enough sickness around him to last a lifetime.”

  I nod my head in fierce agreement. “You know, it’s probably just the whole new dad thing. I was the same way with Hailey at first. Especially since I didn’t get to see her very often. He’ll change soon enough, don’t worry.” I take a drink of water that our waiter brought over. “So, is Piper babysitting?”

  She coughs, choking on her own drink. “God, no. That girl hasn’t babysat since high school. I think Baylor over-used her or something. She practically raised Maddox for a few years, then she hit seventeen and everything else became more important. Things like Charlie and planning for their trip after graduation.”

  Thankfully, the waiter comes to take our orders, averting anymore talk of Piper. Why did I even bring her up?

  “Jarod, you remember Mason, don’t you? He’s going to be the best man at my wedding.”

  He extends his hand to me and I shake it. “Oh, yeah. Mason Lawrence, I know all about you. I’m a big Giants fan. Good luck this year, man. I hope you get to play more than you did last season.”