Clutch Player

by Ash, Nikki

  Harper kicks my ass in air hockey, and then Ella has me race with her on a motorcycle. We must play every game at least once, until all their coins run out. Then we spend thirty minutes with Ella picking out toys with her thousands of tickets, since Hunter gave her his when she pouted she didn’t have enough to get what she wanted. I’m almost positive he did it to try to get right with his mom for earlier, but nonetheless it was a nice thing to do.

  Once we’re in the parking lot, everyone says their goodbyes, and then we head over to Harper’s SUV since she’s giving me a ride home.

  We’re not even two minutes into our drive when Ella says, “Mom, is Landon your boyfriend?”

  I stifle my laugh and glance over at Harper, who’s gripping the steering wheel awfully tight. I bet she was hoping her daughter would forget.

  “Umm…” Harper clears her throat. “We’re getting to know each other.” I’m not thrilled with her answer, but I’ll let it slide for now. If it were up to me, we would slap a label on what we are, but I know Harper isn’t there yet.

  “I thought you already knew him,” Hunter says.

  Harper groans. “We knew each other when we were younger,” she explains. “It’s been a really long time since then, so we’re getting to know each other again.”

  Hunter laughs from the backseat. “Just admit you’re dating. I saw you two kiss in the arcade.”

  “They kissed?” Ella asks her brother. “Then you are boyfriend and girlfriend! Manny kissed me on the playground and said I’m his girlfriend.”

  I cough loudly to hide my laugh. This is the most I’ve ever been around kids. I had no idea how intuitive and straightforward they are.

  “Ella, you should not be letting Manny—” Harper’s words are cut off by the sound of the phone ringing throughout the vehicle.

  “Answer call,” Harper says with evident exasperation in her tone.

  “Hello,” a male voice comes over.

  Harper groans and throws her head back. “I should’ve checked who was calling,” she whispers.

  “Daddy!” Ella squeals. “Hi, Daddy!”

  “Hey, sweetie. What are you up to?” Richie asks.

  “We just left the arcade and Mommy’s boyfriend, the one Hunter saw kissing her, is with us. And”—Ella takes a deep breath—“his name is Landon. Remember he was Mommy’s friend?” She doesn’t wait for Richie to answer before she continues on. “He’s going to build me a balance beam and I’m going to paint it bright pink just like Jo Jo’s bows!”

  Harper’s gaze quickly leaves the road and meets mine, her eyes as wide as saucers. I don’t blame her. Ella just said all that in less than ten seconds. There has to be a world record somewhere she just broke.

  There’s less than a second of silence before Hunter picks up where his sister left off. “Hey, Dad, I beat Landon in a throwing contest at the arcade and he said if I keep throwing like I am, I could get drafted into the Major Leagues.”

  “What the—” Richie starts, probably to bitch at Harper, but Hunter cuts him off before he can.

  “And since we bet over the game, he’s taking us to a Reds game.”

  “Harper, get me off speaker phone,” Richie demands.

  “I can’t. I’m driving. Call you later,” she says quickly, in an overly upbeat voice, before she presses a button to end the call.

  “Well, that was interesting,” she mutters.

  A few minutes later, she pulls up to my gated community. I hand her the swipe card and then she drives through. When we pull up to the front of my place, she takes a deep breath and looks at me like she wants to say something but has no clue where to even begin.

  After opening and closing her mouth several times, I chuckle and say, “I had a good time. Call me later.” Then, I turn to the kids. “I’ll see you tomorrow at camp.” I put my fist out to fist bump Hunter, who nods. “And I’ll see you Saturday to build your balance beam. Have your mom text me a picture of the pink you want.” I shoot her a playful wink and she beams. I may’ve only been around these kids for a minute, but they’re already growing on me—just like their mother.

  “What do you mean you’re not sure you’re going to take the position? I thought this is what you wanted,” my brother says. We’re hanging out at his place, watching a baseball game on TV. Heather is out at some book club meeting, and Kaelyn is asleep, which leaves the two of us to watch the game and throw back a couple of beers.

  “It is, but just because I don’t take the one in Boston doesn’t mean I can’t get one somewhere else.” When I got home from hanging out with Harper and everyone, I found out I was offered a broadcasting position by ESPN. The catch is it’s in Boston, which would’ve been great, if I wasn’t thinking about placing roots here.

  “Like where?” Brian asks.

  “Like here.” I take a sip of my beer. “I emailed the hiring director back and asked them to see what they can find for me in Providence.”

  Brian gives me a curious look. “If this is about you feeling guilty for not being around the last several years…”

  “No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s about Harper.”

  “Harper?” His brows rise to his hairline. He knows all too well how I feel about Harper. She was the girl who got away. Every time we would have a heart-to-heart—especially when we were drunk—I would pour my heart out to him about my regrets. I loved playing baseball, but if I had known it would mean losing Harper, I wouldn’t have left. Not many ballplayers get that, but Brian does. He’s a family man through and through. He was offered a college ball coaching position and turned it down because he didn’t want to be away from his family.

  “She’s back in my life,” I admit.

  Brian groans. “Tell me you’re not having an affair.”

  “Hell no,” I hiss. “Harper isn’t like that, and neither am I.” I give him an incredulous look. “She’s divorced and has two kids: Hunter and Ella.”

  “Hunter?” he questions.

  “Yep, the kid who attends your camp. Did you know he can pitch almost eighty miles an hour without even trying?”

  “No shit? How do you know that?” The thing about the camp he runs is that it’s not competitive. It’s about learning new skills and honing in on your craft. Because of that, we haven’t clocked any of the kids pitching.

  I get Brian caught up on everything that’s happened recently: being set up on a blind date and finding out it was with Harper, going to dinner and to the arcade with the kids, and finding out through Hunter beating me that he can pitch damn good.

  “What school does he go to?” Brian asks. I can already see the cogs in his brain turning. He teaches at the only public school in their small town, and he wants Hunter on his team.

  “Some private school.”

  “Would you mind if I talked to Harper?” he asks. “There’s only one private school in this town and their team sucks. He’ll never be able to show off his skills if he plays there.”

  “He’s only entering eighth grade, so you still have another year. I can mention it to her this weekend, though, when I see her.” Speaking of which… I pull my phone out and shoot an email to the Reds’ publicist, Val, asking to have some tickets sent to me in front of home plate for Sunday’s game since it’s at home.

  “So, you guys are what, dating?” Brian questions.

  “We’re taking it one day at a time.”

  “And you’re okay taking on two kids?” he asks. “It’s hard enough raising one kid that’s mine. I can’t imagine raising two that aren’t.”

  “They’re a part of her, man.”

  “And a part of Richie…”

  “Richie might be their dad, but they’re all Harper. They’re amazing.” I shrug and take a sip of my beer.

  “Never thought I’d see the day you would settle down.”

  “It’s Harper,” I say, knowing I don’t have to explain anything further. She’s the only girl I could ever see myself settling down with.

  “Does she know—�
��

  He doesn’t even have to finish his question for me to know what he’s asking. “No,” I say, cutting him off.

  “Landon… You have to tell her.”

  “I know. I just… fuck, it was a long time ago.” I scrub my palms up and down my face in frustration. “I will.”

  Twenty-Three

  Harper

  “Both of you need to jump in the shower,” I yell to the kids as they run upstairs. “You have camp in the morning, so you need to get ready for bed soon.”

  My phone vibrates in my purse for the millionth time, and since I know they’ll be upstairs for a little while, I answer it. “Richard.”

  “You said you would call me back,” he says. No hello, how are you doing? Just straight to the point.

  “And I just walked in the door. What’s so urgent?” I ask as I walk into my room to change into some comfier clothes.

  “What’s going on with you and Maxwell?”

  I snort out a laugh. “Is there a reason you’re referring to him by his last name now?”

  “Harper, I asked you a question.” Richard’s tone doesn’t sit well with me. He hasn’t paid this much attention to what I do in… well, ever.

  “Landon and I are dating,” I say. As the words roll off my tongue, they feel right. Maybe the most right thing I’ve felt in years.

  “He’s a player, Harper.”

  “What he is or isn’t is not your concern. I’ve never, not once, questioned the many women you’ve brought around our children. So, I would appreciate it if you would not question who I’m bringing into our kids’ lives.” My fist clenches around the phone and tears burn my eyes as I work myself up. “I have rolled with every damn punch over the last twelve years. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Samantha and I broke up,” he says. “You’re right. I’ve done a poor job at picking out women to be part of our lives. But Landon isn’t right either.”

  How dare he! I’ve always known Richard wasn’t a fan of Landon’s, and it probably didn’t help that I was heartbroken throughout my pregnancy, but the way he’s acting is crazy. I could’ve cheated on him for years while we were married and he wouldn’t have noticed. Now that we’re divorced and I’m finally moving on, he wants to suddenly pay attention. Not happening.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Samantha, but you don’t get to make that decision for me. I haven’t once brought a single man around our kids since our divorce. That alone should say something. This conversation is over.”

  Richard is quiet for a long moment before he says, “Fine. I was thinking I could take the kids this weekend.”

  Seriously? Am I being secretly recorded? Is someone playing a joke on me? “I thought you were moving…”

  “I decided not to take the position,” he says, shocking the hell out of me.

  “Why?” Call me curious…

  “Moving away from my family isn’t what’s best. Maybe in a few years I can reconsider.”

  “That’s good. Unfortunately, it’s my weekend, though, and we have plans.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Landon is helping Ella build a balance beam.”

  “What about Sunday?” Oh, buddy, we are not about to play this game.

  “Richard, it’s my weekend,” I say, trying to keep my cool.

  “Fine, then I want to take them during the week.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay… have at it. Your days are Mondays and Wednesdays. You missed Monday…” Which was yesterday. “But you can take them tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” he snaps.

  “Will you be picking them up from camp or from the house?” I ask sweetly, knowing it will only piss him off more.

  “I guess camp.”

  Wow! Finally stepping up… I guess better late than never. “Sounds good. Goodbye, Richard,” I say, then end the call without waiting for him to say goodbye.

  After I put the kids to bed, I’m settling into my own bed to read, when my phone pings with a text. I consider not checking it. If it’s Richard, I might throw my phone against a wall and shatter it. And that will just piss me off further. It pings again, and I give in. It could be Bridget or my mom.

  Butterflies swarm in my belly when I see who it is.

  Landon: I’m lying in bed thinking about you. What are you up to?

  Landon: I hope Dick didn’t give you too much shit for me crashing your night.

  I laugh out loud at the nickname for Richard, remembering he used to call him that when we were in high school.

  Me: Just put the kids to bed a little bit ago. I’m in bed too.

  Then, before I second-guess myself, I type out one more text and hit send.

  Me: I told him we’re dating…

  I hold my breath as the bubbles appear, indicating he’s typing. When they disappear, I wonder if maybe I overstepped, so I add: Is that okay?

  Landon: Is that your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?

  I find myself giggling at his question. It’s like we’re teenagers all over again. Only back then texting wasn’t really around yet.

  Me: Maybe… is that something you would be interested in?

  Landon: Does the title come with benefits?

  Me: It does…

  Landon: I’m going to need you to be specific. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.

  My stomach flip-flops. I have no idea how to flirt through text. I’ve never done this before. Do I text back something sweet? Sexy? As I’m overthinking it, my phone rings in my hand, causing me to jump and almost drop the phone. The ring is different, and I quickly realize Landon is Facetiming me.

  “Hello?” I say slowly when the call connects and Landon’s gorgeous face comes up on the screen.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says, his voice gravelly. The sound goes straight to my lady parts.

  “I was about to text you back.”

  “I’d rather hear what dating you entails.” Landon’s lips curve into a sexy smile, and my insides tighten.

  “Okay, I’ll send you a voice text,” I say, hoping I can hide behind my phone.

  Landon laughs. “Nope, tell me, Harper, what does dating you mean?”

  “Umm…” I feel the flush creep up my neck and I’m thankful my room is somewhat dark so Landon can’t see it. “Kissing me.”

  Landon’s grin cracks wider. “I like the sound of that. Where can I kiss you?”

  “I don’t know,” I blurt out nervously.

  “Can I kiss your lips?”

  “You already have.”

  “True. How about your pussy?”

  “You’ve kissed that too,” I say, my entire body heating up at his crude words.

  “Yeah, I have.” He smirks. “It tastes so fucking good.” He licks his lips as if he’s remembering what I taste like, and I squirm in my bed.

  “So, then what benefits do I get by becoming your boyfriend?” His brows dip together for a split second before a wolfish grin splays across his face. “Does being your boyfriend mean I get to take that perfect ass?”

  I’m momentarily shocked by what he’s said. I’ve never done anything like that. Richard and I had a boring sex life. Missionary and once a week. I wouldn’t doubt he was cheating on me, but I never asked because it would mean admitting what we both already knew: our marriage was one of convenience.

  I settled for a subpar sex life because I didn’t love him. Wasn’t attracted to him. I couldn’t connect with him, so I didn’t care about having sex with him.

  One night with Landon and I was ruined. Feeling the difference of being with someone who I’m attracted to sexually and emotionally on such a deep level has awoken my body. But it shouldn’t surprise me. Being with Landon is as easy as it was when we were teenagers. I had been drawn to him back then and twelve years later that chemistry is even more potent.

  “I’ve never done that,” I admit softly. “But I would.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I prepare to open up to him in a way I’ve never opened up to anybody. “I th
ink I would do anything you wanted.” I know his dirty comment was only meant as a joke, but I need him to know the truth, even if it makes me vulnerable.

  As if my words cause the mood to shift from playful to something more intense, Landon’s gaze hoods over. “Anything?” he asks. And for some reason, I think his anything goes beyond the sexual connotation we were just talking about.

  “Anything,” I confirm.

  “I wish I were there with you,” Landon murmurs.

  “What would you do?” I ask bravely.

  “I would show you all the benefits to being my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, really, so I get benefits too?” I flirt. “What are they?”

  “They have to be explained in person.”

  “You could give me a preview now.” I shrug.

  Landon nods, licking his lips. “Is your door closed?”

  “Yes.” I nod eagerly, hoping this is going where I think it is.

  “Are you turned on right now, baby?”

  “Yes,” I croak out.

  “What are you wearing?”

  I press the button on my phone to turn my camera around so he can get a brief glimpse of my leggings and shirt. Not the sexiest items I own, but oh well.

  “Take your pants off,” he demands. I do as he says, pushing my leggings down my thighs and then kicking them onto the ground, giving him the view of my panties.

  “Those too,” he adds.

  With one hand, I push my panties down my legs, leaving me completely bare.

  “Fuck, Harp. I want to be there…”

  “Pretend you are.”

  “All right, baby, if I were there I would spread your thighs.” I do as he says, keeping the camera on my pussy and bare thighs. “I would spread your pussy lips apart and feel how wet you are.”

  Spreading my legs wider, I reach down and swipe up my center. I’m soaked.

  “Jesus, I can see your fingers are all wet,” Landon says. “Turn the camera around and let me see you lick your juices off your fingers. Tell me what it tastes like.”

  I’ve never done anything like this before, so you would think I would be nervous or embarrassed, but all I am is turned on and horny. I turn the camera around and make a show of slowly licking my pointer and middle finger.