Go Away, Darling Page 5

  They teased me for another minute before finally leaving me alone. At the rate my teammates were going I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy my evening fantasies of Olivia. Instead of her smile I’d see their dumb faces. Instead of her sweet voice I’d hear theirs.

  Seth leaned closer. “You okay? You look like you’re going to murder someone.”

  So of course I had no choice but to make myself cool off. “I’m fine. They just got to me today.”

  “You need to bunk at my place tonight?” Seth’s roommate, Erik, wasn’t exactly using his room most nights anymore and Seth had offered it up to me for future use.

  I’d turned him down every time he offered because the thought of spending any unnecessary nights away from the island turned my blood cold. I’d been looking forward to this night all week. Ever since I fell off Olivia’s dock and swam home. Seven straight nights of wondering why she’d told me she wasn’t single when she clearly was, wondering if I had a shot.

  “Naw, I’ll grab a late dinner with Scott and head home to my own bed, but thanks.”

  He nodded, his eyes telling me he suspected I was upset for another reason. “Another one bites the dust,” he mumbled as he walked away.

  What I didn’t realize was that my brother had come up behind us and was listening in on our conversation. Not until he dropped his big paw on my shoulder and scared the piss out of me. “So who is she?”

  Not. Again.

  I was going to kill Ruiz for starting this.

  “There is no she. I wish everyone would stop assuming there is a she.” And why did anyone care? This investment in other people’s love lives baffled the fuck out of me.

  “Oh, there’s a she. It’s written all over your lovesick face, but lie all you want if it helps. How’s the house?”

  “You’re not going to drink?” Scott stared at me like I’d instantly grown a full beard.

  “Naw. I have to drive.”

  He set his beer down and slid it towards me. “I’ll drive. You drink. You just pitched a hell of a game.”

  I slid it back to him. “Seriously. I’m good. Maybe I’ll have something when we get home.”

  Scott shrugged and took the beer. “I drove off the road one time. One.”

  “That was like, ten years ago. You think I’m still worried about that?” Considering all the other shit my brother had done since going “Hollywood”, swerving off a road a decade ago in an ice storm was not even on my radar.

  He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know anymore. I just wanted to offer.”

  Scott looked tired. I hoped it was the travel, but the more I watched him fidgeting, the more I wondered if he was upset. Dealing with Scott was always a delicate balance between forcing him to talk about the things he didn’t want to talk about, and not pushing him so hard he ran away.

  I focused on the appetizers. “So how long will you be around?”

  He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be in New York to meet with my agent and do an interview, but with this weather system fucking all the flights up, they pushed it at least a week.”

  “And you’ll stay here?”

  “Yeah. You sent that photo last week and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. You looked happy and the sky was blue and...I don’t know. A change of scenery seemed like a good idea.”

  “Grandma will be happy to see you.”

  He smiled. “She’s been texting me series of emojis all week. It’s like interpreting sign language.”

  I flashed him my phone. “She sent me this after the game.” It was a message with nothing but a baseball mitt, a baseball, a bat, and a bunch of celebration emojis.

  “Why’d she send so many of those?” Scott asked, turning my phone back.

  “I think it’s the number of batters I struck out.”

  He groaned. “She would do that. She’s crazy and I love her.”

  Our grandmother was...well she was kind of like all the Golden Girls rolled into one, mixed with a Broadway star, and a fortune teller. She drove our parents absolutely nuts, but we loved her to pieces. Partially because she always baked us cookies and snuck us more when our parents weren’t looking.

  “Speaking of love,” Scott drew out the words, “who is this girl you’re into?”

  I groaned and reached for his beer, taking one huge gulp. “She’s not a girl.”

  “Ah ha!” He practically leapt out of his chair pointing his finger at me. “I knew it!”

  I didn’t want to even mention Olivia’s name to my teammates. It was too soon and there was nothing to tell. But Scott? Scott knew her. Knew I had a crush on her way back when. And honestly? I didn’t like keeping things from my siblings. So while I didn’t particularly want to discuss something I didn’t even understand myself, I wasn’t about to avoid the topic either. Not with Scott sitting across from me asking questions.

  I grabbed a chip piled high with beans and cheese and sat back, taking a moment to chew and think. “It happened a week ago,” I explained, “and so far it’s just a...a spark?”

  Scott seemed to find me fascinating. At least his eyes did. They examined me from head to hands. “A spark? This isn’t some sex thing. You’re…” he whistled and wiggled his fingers in the air, “gone.”

  Yeah. I was. All it took was seeing her. I wish I understood how it was possible, but from the moment she flagged me down she’d inserted herself into my thoughts and refused to leave.

  I licked my lips and stared at my silverware. “You remember Olivia?”

  Using my excellent peripheral vision, I watched Scott frown, think, and then jerk. “Saldana? No!”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Still?”

  I laughed. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

  “And she...reciprocated these feelings?”

  I didn’t blame him for being skeptical. Twenty years ago a five year age gap was laughable. But now? It was still a small stretch. “I...I think so. Like I said, this just happened.”

  Scott demanded to know everything. Every detail. And over the course of dinner I actually enjoyed reliving the experience and getting someone else’s perspective. He whistled low. “Divorced with a kid? You’re sure you want to sign up for that?”

  I thought about it a lot over the last week. All the “what ifs.” What if we go on a few dates and it turns out it was just infatuation? What if we date over the off season and then everything goes to shit when baseball starts up again? What if we date and fall in love and I have to grapple with an ex and a child who isn’t biologically mine?

  A vision of making dinner with Linc flashed through my mind and I smiled.

  “Yeah. I do. If she’s interested. Linc is a great kid. I have to believe a child who talks about his parents the way he did has to be in a good situation. And I can’t explain it, but I kind of fell in love with him just as fast as I fell for Liv.”

  “Dude, you just said love.”

  I backtracked over my own words and realized it was true. And ridiculous. And right somehow. “I don’t know what this is, but I do know I want to find out and I’m in for all of it.”

  Scott studied me again, his eyes focused and serious, and then unfocused as his mind went somewhere else entirely. “I wish I had your confidence. Would you mind teaching me your ways?”

  Scott definitely had something going on. Something that had him messed up and deeply unhappy. “I can try.”

  5

  No one looks good with bangs

  Olivia

  “Hey mom?”

  “Yeah?” I yelled from the kitchen where I had just finished cleaning up and was now making some tea.

  “Is that Chris?”

  My heart stopped for a split second before I heard the roar of a crowd and realized he must be on the television. I picked up my mug and moved to the living room where I found Linc standing a foot from the screen, practically nose-to-nose with Chris before the screen flashed to a comme
rcial.

  “Yes. That’s Chris. Was he just called in to pitch?”

  “Yep! They said ‘it’s an unusual move’ and then everyone got really excited.” Linc grabbed a few couch cushions and set up a cocoon on the floor under the TV just like he did when Beau was playing.

  My kid thought it was perfectly normal for the people in his life to appear on television. Go figure. Watching football and your dad has a closeup? Just another Sunday afternoon. Baseball is on and your next door neighbor is about to pitch? Pass the popcorn.

  We always had baseball on these days, usually to watch the Mantas, but we occasionally went crazy and watched the Waves. It was nice background noise since there was a game everyday for months at a time. Plus I thought Linc might have a natural gift for the sport and wanted to sign him up for fall ball, which I knew would go a lot better if he already understood the sport.

  I had not planned on an expert moving in next door.

  And I couldn’t help wondering how Chris Kaine was going to fit into our lives. Friendly neighbor? Absolutely. Baseball mentor? Possibly. Kissing partner? A shiver raced down my spine and I was suddenly very hot.

  Very, very hot.

  Especially when the game came back from break with a tight shot of Chris’s eyes. He stood on the mound leaning forward with his arm on one leg. His uniform was crisp white and his dark blue hat sat low on his brow. His eyes were totally focused on Wes Allen behind the plate and I imagined they had some sort of psychic connection because once they synchronized they always seemed to be unstoppable.

  Chris had really nice eyes.

  Really, really nice eyes. They were the shade of brown that resembled bronze but also gold. They crinkled in the corners like he smiled all the time. Except right now he wasn’t smiling at all. His jaw was set and ticked twice as he stood up tall, bringing his hands up near his chin. He stared down the batter on first base with a look that was downright scary, then went into his pitching motion, sending the ball to the batter for a swinging strike.

  The announcers all started talking excitedly at once.

  “It’s amazing how he can come into a game this late, with runners on the bases, and pitch like it’s the first inning.” The first announcer said.

  “I agree,” the other announcer said, shaking his head in wonder. “It really makes you wonder if anyone can beat him.”

  “No,” the first announcer said flatly, “I don’t think anyone can. The question I have is...what magic will he pull off in the playoffs? I can’t wait to watch him.”

  Chris threw another strike. Cool. Focused. His jaw ticking like he was chewing gum maybe? It was sexy and I couldn’t stop thinking about how different he was in my kitchen just a week ago. Smiling, casual, chatting with Linc like he had nothing better to do.

  So different from the strike throwing machine on my television. He struck the batter out and took a lap around the mound shouting something to himself the cameras couldn’t pick up, but I was pretty sure it was full of swear words and smack talk.

  I found myself wondering what it was like to touch Chris Kaine. To soothe away his stress and make him smile. Our one hug had been a surprise, but I remembered all of it. He smelled like saltwater and sunscreen. My head fit against his shoulder just right. His hands large on my back. His body hard and muscular. That multimillion dollar arm that might win a championship had been wrapped around me.

  A very strange thing happened inside me when I thought about that. A heady, lusty, possessive fog filled my mind and body. After Beau, I swore I’d never date another athlete. They were too full of themselves. Too addicted to the spotlight and celebrity lifestyle. I didn’t need or want to date a champion.

  I wanted my quiet island life watching my kid grow up. Was it simple? Yes. It was also stress free and happy.

  And yet here I was coveting an athlete. Getting, if I’m being honest with myself, a little turned on by his focus and passion, not to mention that killer arm. And unlike Beau, he wanted to live on our little island. He called it home. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but I wanted to believe Chris and Beau were two entirely different people.

  I stared at my computer screen not getting much done on my project because my brain seemed to only want to focus on one thing today. It had been a week and Chris was supposed to be back.

  But would he return?

  He certainly didn’t have to if things changed. There was no contract between us. Heck, I didn’t even have his phone number. He could just as easily decide to stay in Tampa and relax with his friends.

  A message dinged into my inbox and I forced myself to think about work again. I got up extra early during the week to get most of my email and editing work done before Linc got moving. Outdoor photo shoots took place at different times of day depending on the project and I scheduled those around Linc’s routine and, soon, school days. Otherwise they took place here in my studio. My parent’s old art studio was now my state of the art photography studio and lab. It had great lighting and opened up to our yard, which also served as an easy outdoor studio.

  The bulk of my work was celebrity portraits. I carved out a niche here on the island. So many politicians and celebrities had homes here that it was a natural but strange specialty to develop. I became semi-famous for the unique way I captured people with their most beloved possessions. The island served as a gorgeous permanent backdrop. I had the final portrait printed in large scale as a work of art that hung in the owner’s homes. Sometimes the work was exciting, sometimes it was monotonous. I knew in the back of my mind that I was stifling my creativity by focusing only on the money, but I didn’t focus on that too often.

  I scanned the new email and found it was from London Anderson asking for a quick edit to a photo she’d sent me last week from her trip to Monaco. Instead of replying to the email, I picked up my phone and called.

  “Good morning sunshine!” she sang into the phone. “It is morning there, right?”

  I laughed. “It is. And where are you?”

  “Paris. I’m currently munching on cheese and sipping wine.”

  “You have the worst work environment.”

  Then she sighed heavily. “Yeah. About that. I think I’ll be back pretty soon. My grandmother isn’t doing well.”

  “Oh London, I’m so sorry.” I compulsively clicked on the file for the local history project I was part of and opened the images of London’s grandmother I’d been working on editing.

  “It will be a quick trip. I want to see her.”

  Every trip for London was a quick trip. She simply couldn’t bring herself to stay and face all the memories. I missed her but I didn’t blame her. As much as she repelled the island, I clung to it like a life raft. “If you have time for a visitor let me know. It can be a purely friendly visit, or we can combine work and pleasure.”

  “Oh yes! Perfect. We can talk shop over a coffee. I have so many ideas for my next book.”

  The idea of a new project filled me with adrenaline. After a long summer with Linc, and now the unsettling reaction I had to a neighborly pitcher, I craved a new project to plan, ponder, and puzzle out. “Excellent. Keep me informed. And really, try and find a better place to work than hideous old Paris.”

  She was still giggling as I ended the call. I finished my morning work session with a visit from another Anderson sister, Berlin. Even though I worked with London now, it was Berlin who was my best friend, seeing as we were the same age and were always in the same grade. We bonded over being sisters. My sister Summer was on a year long international tour opening for Travis Brantley and Kristen Holt. I couldn’t wait for her to get back in a couple of weeks. I missed her terribly.

  “Hello, hello!” Berlin called from the front door. I knew she was coming so I left it unlocked.

  “In the office!”

  I listened to Berlin stop and chat with Linc about the cartoon he was watching, and then a minute later she flopped down onto my office sofa that sometimes served as a prop. “What a day!” she
sighed.

  “It’s not even eleven.”

  “And it’s already been a day!” Her brown hair was French braided and her tan legs on full display beneath yellow shorts. She got bangs a month ago and I hated her because she looked great with bangs. No one in real life ever looks good with bangs, but Berlin sure did.

  I spun in my desk chair to face her, leaning back. “Okay spill it. Why has it already been a day?” This is how Berlin worked. She loved to over share, but for some reason she required a prompt to do so.

  “So...I have to tell you something.”

  Again, needing a prompt, I waved my hand for her to continue.

  “I met someone.”

  “Today?”

  She scowled. “No not today. About a month ago. His name is Ryker and I think he might be the one.”

  Berlin was once upon a time married to her college sweetheart, Jack Cassidy. They were what I would call soulmates. But they were young and Jack was an ass who showed his ass and Berlin, not willing to take being shat upon, left him. He was still hopelessly in love with her, but Berlin was determined to move forward, not backward. I didn’t blame her. What Jack did was selfish and stupid. But he also—quickly—learned from his mistake. I felt for him because as an outsider it was plain as day that Berlin and Jack complimented each other, put up with the other’s weirdness, and were hopelessly in love.

  But Berlin had taken off the love goggles and was blind to Jack now.

  And so she found Ryker. “All right. Tell me about him.”

  “He’s a real estate developer out of Miami. He’s got dark hair and a kind smile. He’s...awkward, but after Jack I kind of like awkward. He calls me all the time, loves my work, and I miss him.”

  So, if I was translating Berlin’s words correctly, this Ryker was steady, nerdy, rich, supportive, and, above all, safe.

  I should note that Jack is mostly none of these things. He’s a hockey player turned coach of the Miami Pythons. He’s an alpha (thus the selfish jackass part that got him in trouble), bordering on alpha-hole, unpredictable, emotional, and insensitive.