Текст книги "Third Base"
Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Despite my stellar batting performance we only won by one run. That win puts us at thirteen and ten – not anywhere near where I thought we’d be this early in the season. Athletes go into their new season with expectations. GM Stone made some solid off-season trades and drafted well. On paper, we should be number one. However, the standings do not show that. I can’t let the rankings get to me though. I have a job to do.
Tonight, Daisy is meeting me in front of the fan store across the street from the stadium. It’s a good thing she texted that suggestion to me because I forgot to send an usher to get her. That’s probably why she’s across the street – all because I forgot. This time when I go to meet her, my hair is dry and I’m dressed for the weather, although it’s fairly calm out. My jeans hang off my waist and my crisp black button down sits perfectly. I left my jacket in my car, not that I need it right now. I’m hoping for a walk along the harbor where she’ll need me to keep her warm.
As I step out of the stadium, a few fans approach me and ask for my autograph. I sign their memorabilia and pose for a quick picture before I excuse myself. The store is busy and mostly everyone is dressed the same. Being tall has its advantages, and this is one of them...I’m able to scan the crowd for the one person I want to see. I weave throughout the crowd, waving when my name is called and smiling when I’m patted on the back and told ‘good job’. I’m starting to panic when I don’t find her and head back to the entrance so I can go outside and call her.
That’s when I see her. Right inside the entrance, off to the left, is one of our old seats. It’s there for display and clearly says No Sitting, but Daisy seems to be hell bent on breaking that rule. As soon as we make eye contact everything around me freezes. The boisterous laughter that follows a win is silenced. It’s just the two of us in this store. No one else exists as I walk toward her. I have a feeling she’s been watching me since I stepped into the store. “Hey,” I say, as she stands to meet me. My hand is instantly on her hip, sliding underneath her jersey which bears my name. The feel of her bare skin against mine stirs a plethora of feelings inside me. It’s intense. If she doesn’t feel the connection like I do, then I’m screwed. I thought I was in love with Sarah, but what I’m feeling for Daisy right now is so much more. I never felt like this with Sarah.
With Daisy, my heart races just from being near her, or just with the knowledge that I’m going to see her. My palms sweat and the anticipation of knowing I’ll be gazing into her eyes has me on edge. It’s a good edge, one that I want to be on.
“I’m sorry I forgot to send an usher for you. Tomorrow, you won’t have to worry. I’ll make sure you have a pass to get into the wives’ lounge.” The fact that I just said ‘wives’ lounge’ doesn’t even faze me. I want her there when I come up. I want to see her waiting for me.
“It’s okay,” she says, as her hand finds mine. I want nothing more than to kiss her right now, but this isn’t the place. Us being here, touching like this isn’t good for her. Fans can be relentless with taunting and I’m only setting her up by acting like a fool in lust… love… in public with her.
“Let’s go.” There’s more to talk about, but not here. In the privacy of my car, or her place, or mine – any other location is better as long as we don’t have an audience.
I pull her behind me through the parking lot. Her smaller strides make it seem like she’s running. I really need to slow down for her. When we reach my SUV, I’m pulling us both in between my car and the one next to mine. There’s slightly more privacy here, but not much. Video cameras overhead capture everything. With her back pressed against my car, my arms lock her in.
“I like you, Daisy.”
“I can tell.”
Not the response I was hoping for, but I’ll go with it.
“I want to kiss you. Would that be okay?”
Her eyes travel to my lips and back to my eyes. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. These simple gestures from her have me getting hard just thinking about what I want to do to her.
“Yes,” she whispers huskily. She wants this as bad as I do, but not here. Not when people are watching.
“Later,” I say with a satisfied smirk, kissing her forehead. It actually physically pains me to have to put this off, but she’s going to have to trust that I’m doing this for her and not because I’m a giant piece of shit. I open the car door and help her get in before running around to the other side. Once I’m in, I reach for her hand and as much as I want to put her hand in my lap, the space in my car is too great, leaving our hands in the middle on the console.
“That was mean,” she says as we pull out onto the streets.
“What was?”
“That almost kiss you gave me. Teasing isn’t nice.”
Teasing isn’t nice? Is she serious? Doesn’t she realize that each day I see her she’s teasing the shit out of me with the way she walks, smells, and bats her damn eyes? When she smiles, the sight of her dimple hits me right in the groin.
When we get to a stoplight, I turn and look at her. “I thought you’d much prefer our first kiss to be a bit more private. I know I would because I don’t plan to just kiss you, Daisy.” I bring her hand to my mouth and press my lips to her skin, never taking my eyes off of her.
“Oh,” she says, as her breathing catches. Unfortunately for me, the light turns green and I’m forced to drive. I take us to a little restaurant on the outskirts of the city. I have a table reserved in the back which will allow us some privacy from the rest of the restaurant. Tonight, I plan to get to know Daisy more and if a good night kiss is in order, it shall be had.
With my hand on her back, I guide her into the restaurant. The hostess greets us with a smile and says she has our table ready after I give her my name. The ambience is subdued with low lighting. Even though the restaurant is busy, the noise level is kept low. It’s almost like one of the Italian places in a mobster movie where everyone is just waiting to get blown up.
Our booth is in the back corner and although I said I would sit next to her given the opportunity, it’s not wise. I won’t be able to keep my hands off of her and I’m not looking to embarrass her.
“I don’t think I should be here.” Daisy leans across the table and whispers to me. I look around, confused.
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at how I’m dressed.” She speaks through gritted teeth, clearly angry with me.
“This is a casual place. The lady behind you looks like she’s wearing slippers.” Daisy looks over her shoulder and stifles a laugh. “Seriously, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you.”
She looks at me questioningly.
I shrug. “Unless you’re at a game, then all bets are off.”
“What’s good here?” she asks as she picks up the menu. I rattle off a few of my favorites, which ends up being half the menu. When the waiter appears, I order a rib eye and she orders a small salad with a French dip.
“I have something important to ask you.”
“What is it?” she asks.
My hand starts to twitch at just the thought of saying the words that are about to come out of my mouth. Right now, I’d like to cut the stupid thing off, but I’m sure my right hand would take up the slack from missing the left. I place my left under my leg and prepare for her answer.
“What are you doing on your birthday?”
She tries to mask a pained look before she forces a smile. “Nothing. I don’t have any plans,” she says, shocking me. How can she not have any plans for her twenty-first birthday? She should be out celebrating and having dinner and cake with her family and friends.
“Your family doesn’t expect you anywhere?”
“My family is dead, Ethan.” I sit back, shocked by what she just said and wishing she could take it back.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her earnestly.
Daisy looks away, unable to maintain eye contact with me. I get up and move to her side, sliding in next to her. Something tells me I need to give her a hug, so I do. She only lets me hold her for a few seconds before she’s pulling away.
“You don’t need to be sorry. This week is a rough one for me and I didn’t expect you to ask about my birthday. I’m usually at a game. It’s just dumb luck that it’s an off day this year.”
“Its fate or kismet, or some of that other Shakespearean bullshit we learned about in school, because I wanted to ask if you’d go to a charity event with me.” I push her hair off her shoulder and leave my hand on her neck, letting my fingers play in her hair.
“I’ll go, but I’ll have to meet you there.”
“Why can’t I pick you up?”
Daisy shakes her head and I’m starting to put the pieces together.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her chin up. “I don’t care where you live. Material things don’t matter to me at all. I want to pick you up. Hell, I want to drive you home tonight and have been thinking about ways to find out where you live since we met.”
She doesn’t say anything, but rests her head on my shoulder. It’s an avoidance tactic, but she’s touching me so I’m happy.
“My parents died when I was three,” she mumbles. “It was a freak accident. The ice shanty they were in collapsed and as they were trying to get out, my mom slipped into the fishing hole. My dad thought he could save her. They both drowned. I’ve lived with my grandparents ever since, but my grandma died two years ago and my grandfather and I moved into a low income apartment.”
“Excuse me for being stupid, but how do you have season tickets to the Renegades?”
Daisy sits up and pushes her hair out of her face. “My grandfather gave up a luxury to have those.”
“A luxury?”
She nods, taking a sip of water. “Uh…” she shakes her head. “He’s in a wheelchair and we live on the third floor of an apartment building with an elevator that only works occasionally. After my grandma died, he sold his van to pay for the tickets. Said he refused to give up the seats his father worked so hard for.”
“He’s never at the games though.”
Daisy shakes her head. “We don’t have a car and I’m not strong enough to help him walk down the stairs. The Visiting Nurses come to the apartment to check on him and they’ll take him out occasionally, but it’s not like I can ask them to drive us to the game. They’ll take the cost of the tickets and count it as income. We won’t be able to afford them.”
Her words hit home. I’ve never been in a situation where my parents couldn’t afford anything. My sister and I always had everything we asked for. Call us spoiled, but my parents worked hard to provide us a good life. And here sits the girl I’m interested in, spilling her guts on how she doesn’t have any money because I asked about her birthday. If I didn’t know any better, and she was the one pursuing me, I’d say she’s a gold-digger. I know once people find out about her and dig into who she is, they’re going to say shit like that and it’s going to piss me off.
When our meal arrives, I stay where I’m seated. It feels wrong to move back to where I was. Besides, I rather like feeling the body heat radiate off of her. After a few bites, I’m putting my fork down to talk to her.
“About your birthday, do you want to go with me? I understand if you want to stay home with your grandfather.” In my head, I’m silently begging her to say she wants to go.
“Do I have to wear a dress?”
I nod as fear sets in that she’s a strict tomboy. She doesn’t seem like the type, but you never know.
“Is it a date?”
Her question catches me off guard. Have I not given her enough indication that I want to be with her? I lean in and graze her cheek with my lips until I’m at her ear. “Every time we’re together, you should consider it a date. In fact, you should consider us dating.” She leans her head into my lips, trying to hold me there. Another time, another place and I wouldn’t move, but right now, my body temperature is rising and I know I need to pull away from her and try to adjust myself as discreetly as possible.
“You know,” she says, abruptly changing the subject, “that blog is going to mention how many times you adjusted yourself during the game today.”
I roll my eyes and stab at my food. “Well, if someone hadn’t worn my shirt to the game, I probably wouldn’t have had the urgent need to adjust my cup so many times during the game.”
“Is that so?” she asks with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Yes, it is,” I say quietly as I lean in. “You see, I have fantasies of you in my clothes, in my bed and under me… any bad press I get for that kind of stuff is because you.”
I leave her with those thoughts as I try to finish my dinner. I watch her out of the corner of my eye and try not to laugh. She’s stunned and I love it.
I can’t get Daisy off my mind. She’s in my dreams at night. When I wake, she’s there in the images that I’ve stored in my mind. I see her in every woman I encounter. It’s getting to the point where every smell, every color, even every freaking pizza topping reminds me of her. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, or where I am because I see her everywhere. It’s a curse. That’s what I’ve determined, because with each thought comes another one that takes me down a path I have yet to travel with her.
The other night after our dinner date, I tried to drive her home. She wouldn’t let me and I didn’t force the issue. I like her too much to be that guy – the one who is demanding and overbearing. She’s been riding the trains and walking the streets a lot longer than I have; I can’t come swooping in to save her like some kind of superhero if she’s not asking to be saved. Sadly, not being able to drive her home also meant no good-night kiss. I don’t want to settle for some cheapened peck on the cheek while standing on some street, or on the subway platform. I want to hold her in my arms. I want to caress her face and let my lips linger over hers until neither of us can wait any longer. I want it to be something for her – for us both – to remember.
I also want to stop sounding like a girl. This is the shit I used to make fun of my sister about when she’d ask me to take those stupid tests from her magazines. As much as I try not to, I can’t help but think of Daisy as this delicate flower. I don’t know if it’s because of her name, or the fact that I’m so damn attracted to her, that this mushy shit is flowing from me and I can’t turn it off.
Tonight, the kiss is happening. It’s her birthday and I can’t think of a better way to cap off the night than a good-night kiss. Actually, I can think of about ten other ways to end the night, and if I can get her to come back to my place for a small birthday party, I may try to make them happen.
I grab my phone from my bedside table and scroll through my contacts until I find my mom’s picture. It’s of her holding Shea while my mom beams with pride. I press her name and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“Hi, Mom.” I’ve never been one to open up about my feelings, but there’s a first time for everything. I don’t know how to tell if what I’m feeling is lust or genuine feelings, and I’m hoping my mom can help me figure it out. I can’t compare Daisy to Sarah – I’ve tried – it’s not working. They’re completely different.
“You had a good game last night.”
“Thanks. We’re still not doing that well. We’re already behind and it’s only April.”
My mom sighs and I can hear her moving around the room. The sound of a door closing makes me wonder if I’ve woken her up.
“Dad says the team is young and you guys have a lot of rebuilding to do. You’ll be fine, it may just take a bit longer than you expect.”
“Yeah, but I’m impatient and used to winning.”
“Well, everyone has to grow up eventually. You can’t win everything, Ethan.”
I want to ask her why not. I’m Boston’s most eligible bachelor. Surely I should have whatever I want when I want it. Isn’t that part of having this title? I want Daisy, yet I have a feeling that if I don’t act fast enough I’m going to be friend zoned. The problem is, if she’s giving me a sign, I’m obviously missing it and finding excuses as to why I shouldn’t kiss her whenever I have the chance. Something is holding me back. It’s as if I’m stuck behind bars and unable to reach her, even though she’s right there.
“I need to ask you something, but I also need you to keep it between us.”
“I’m all ears,” she says, but there’s a hint of worry in her voice. I’d be worried too, I suppose, if my son said this to me.
I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly as I close my eyes and prepare for her reaction. It doesn’t matter that my mom is three thousand miles away; she’ll be giddy and want to know everything about Daisy.
“How did you know you were in love with Dad?”
The slight intake of air on the other end tells me she’s smiling. Knowing my mom the way I do, she has her fist clenched and is doing her own impression of Arsenio Hall. My only fear is that, given our history, she’ll think that it’s Sarah, and I don’t want to disappoint her.
“Is it the girl the BoRe Blogger has written about?”
I go silent and wish I could hang up on my mother. However, I’m sure that action would have her on the next plane out. I’m never too old for a spanking according to her.
“Ugh, Mom, why do you read that garbage?” It’s not all garbage. The BoRe Blogger is fairly accurate with his baseball knowledge, but the gossip part is what kills me. Why can’t the blog be about baseball and only baseball? Why must our personal lives be subject matter?
“I can’t help it. You aren’t forthcoming with a lot of information and the BoRe blog is. Besides, why are you only now telling me about this?”
“There was nothing to tell.”
“Then why do you think you’re in love?”
I stand and walk over to my bedroom window, the line of cars parked along Marlborough Street in the Back Bay make it hard for people to drive down the road. Horns honk and people yell, most of them in their Boston accent, making me laugh and cringe at the same time. I love where I live. I love my neighbors and they like me, even after my Twitter incident. My place is small, but perfect for me. I do long for a house though, with a yard… for a dog…
“Because…” I pause and try to gather my thoughts. I take a deep breath and spill. “This is going to make me sound like a girl, but here it goes. When I look at her, Mom, I see sunshine and happiness. I see someone who is the light at the end of what used to be a dark tunnel. And I know that sounds cliché, but there’s no other way I can describe it. It’s the way she smiles, and the way she watches the game and can carry on a conversation. And her sports knowledge is second to none. It literally scares the living daylights out of me that she may know more about baseball than I do, so I’ve steered clear of any sports talk. I think about her every day. Everything I see reminds me of her. It’s like… I want to call her at random times in the day just to hear her voice. It’s driving me crazy, but in the best possible way. I want to touch her and by that I mean even just hold her hand… I just… ugh.”
“Ethan, it’s okay. I’m not asking about what you’ve done with her.”
“That’s just it, Mom. We haven’t even kissed. I’ve held her hand, and that’s it. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
“And I’m sure she appreciates your efforts.”
Well, I’m glad someone does because my freaking Johnson doesn’t appreciate anything I’m trying to do. He’s constantly carrying a semi each time she’s around – but this is all shit I can’t say to my mom.
“Oh Ethan, it sounds like you’ve really fallen for this girl and I can guess from what you’re telling me that this is different from your relationship with Sarah. To answer your question, I just knew. Everything will just feel right, from the tips of your fingers to the end of your toes, every bone in your body will gravitate towards her. Your father was my every thought. He still is, even today.”
“Right now, Daisy is my every thought.”
“Daisy,” my mom sighs when she says her name. “I like that name.”
Me too, and I’ve been trying to come up with a nickname for her, but nothing seems to fit. I thought about calling her D, but then my jackass teammates would be saying shit like “She wants the D”. It’s funny but crude. I don’t think she’ll appreciate it too much.
Before my mom and I hang up, I tell her about my plans for tonight and promise to send her a photo of us all dressed up. She asks me to tell Daisy ‘hi’ for her and even though I agree, it’s not gonna happen. It’s far too early to bring parental units into our relationship.
The team has sent a car and driver for tonight. I couldn’t be happier because that means I can focus my attention on Daisy when she gets in the car. I thought about driving to her neighborhood after she gave me her address, but figured she’d catch me and it’d piss her off. She’s embarrassed by where she lives and I don’t know how to convey to her that shit like that doesn’t bother me.
As we drive, I’m constantly looking at my watch. I want to see how far she lives from me. I don’t know why it’s important except that I have a great amount of hope that she’s going to be spending a lot of time at my house and I want to know how long it’ll take me to drive her home every night.
Seven minutes. That is how long it took us to get from my house to hers.
“Is this it?” I ask, slightly confused.
“Yes, sir,” he says as he looks at the GPS mounted on his dashboard. I look around and nothing screams low income. I don’t know what she was going on about the other night, but this looks like a place I’d live in.
“Alright,” I say, as I get out of the car. I contemplated buying her a corsage, but felt like that would be overkill and more like prom. I did, however, buy her a birthday cake in hopes that she and I can have a little celebration tonight after the dinner.
As I approach the door I notice a keypad. I drag my finger down the names, looking for Robinson, but don’t see it. I step back and look at the address before pulling out my phone to match it with the address she sent to me. As I unlock the screen I notice a message from her. Shit, she wants me to call her so she’ll come down, instead of me going up to her door. I don’t like that it isn’t as personal as meeting her at her door, but I’m left with no choice.
I start to dial when I see an elderly woman with almost blue hair and a cane walk out.
“Hi, excuse me. My name’s Ethan Davenport and I’m here to escort Miss Daisy Robinson to the Boston Rotary dinner tonight. Do you happen to know which apartment is hers?”
She eyes me up and down before lifting her cane. I think for a moment that she’s about to beat the shit out of me until the driver of my car steps out.
“Are you going to hurt her?”
“No, ma’am,” I say, shaking my head. I still have a feeling she’s going to hurt me. I keep that thought to myself though. It’s a fear I have. Daisy’s been closed off. She’s held back even though I’ve pushed. She’s going into this relationship with an advantage over me. I’m a public figure but she’s an enigma.
“You’ll find Daisy in Three C, but if you hurt her...” She trails off, pointing her cane at me and huffing before walking down the street. I nod to the driver that I’m okay as I step inside the building. The hall smells like urine and there are kids screaming at the end of the hall. A wooden staircase is off to the right, with built in mailboxes on the left. I walk down the hall, hoping the elevator is in service, but as my luck would have it, it’s not today.
“Three flights of stairs in a tux, no problem.” I take the steps two at time. The second floor gives me a long hallway to walk down before I have to climb the next set of steps. This floor smells better, but is messy. There are toys in the hallway and one resident has their door decorated for the holidays, which are still eight months away.
When I reach the third floor I stand straighter and fix my bow tie. I hate that I’m empty-handed and should’ve asked my mom what to bring that wouldn’t be considered stupid and over the top. My stroll to her door is casual with my hands in my pockets to help control the twitching.
The black C is mocking me as I stand in front of it, poised to knock. My knuckles wrap on the door twice before I lean against the doorjamb, trying to play it cool. A flash of black catches my eye as the door swings open. I swallow hard when Daisy stands before me, as the fingers in my pocket pinch the shit out of my leg, trying to make my mouth work.
I stand up straight and take her in. Her blonde hair is pulled up, and I’m not talking piled on top of her head. It’s in big curls like my grandma used to wear in her heyday. Daisy’s cheeks are rosy, with her lips painted red. Her black dress sits somewhat off her shoulder and just below her knees and she’s finished off her ensemble with red high heels.
“You look…”
“Like a pin-up model?”
I catch her eyes and immediately look at her lips again. I feel myself getting hard just picturing her red lips wrapped around my cock.
“Fuck me,” I say as I try discreetly to adjust myself. She catches the action, but doesn’t have to say anything because the smirk is enough. She knows she turns me on.
“Daisy, you look fucking stunning.” This time she knows I’m serious as her cheeks darken. “You’re a classic beauty and I’m so honored to have you on my arm tonight.”
“This old thing,” she says as she brushes her hands down the front of her dress.
“I don’t care if it’s brand new, vintage or what – the fact is, you’re gorgeous and I’m going to have to fight every man as they try to get your attention.”
“Are you up for the challenge?”
I step into her apartment and place my hand on her waist. I bend only slightly, her heels making our height difference less of a challenge, and whisper into her ear. “If it means I get you all to myself, I’m up for anything.” I brush against her dress so she knows what I’m talking about. I don’t miss the sharp intake of air she takes either.
“Who’s at the door, Daisy?”
Daisy steps out of my hold and looks at me quickly before answering. “My friend, Papa. Remember, I told you I was going to dinner.”
“I need to meet him and make sure he’s a respectable young man.”
“Shit,” I mutter as I look down at my semi. I start filtering images though my head of the nastiest things I can while Daisy has my hand in her hers and is pulling me into the other room.
Her living room is decorated like everyone else’s with artwork and pictures on the wall. There’s a television in the corner with a love seat and recliner along the wall. Her grandfather sits in the recliner with his wheelchair next to him. Just by looking at it, I can tell it’s old and probably doesn’t function properly.
“Papa, this is my friend, Ethan. Ethan, this is my grandfather, John.”
I step forward and shake his hand. I have no doubt, that in his prime, he had a firm handshake and I make sure to show him that I do too. It’s a sign of a confident man, according to my father, and I want her grandfather to know that’s what I am.
“It’s great to meet you, sir.”
“I know you,” he says in a thick Boston accent. “You’re behind in homeruns if you think you’re going to be voted in for the derby. Don’t they have you practicing?”
I step back, not entirely shocked that he knows me, but more that he’s hounding me about my percentage. “I’ll work on those at bats, sir.”
“Be good to my Daisy, she’s fragile and the only woman who loves me enough to put up with my cranky ass.”
“I plan to take very good care of her.” When I say the words I’m looking directly at her so she knows I’m serious. She looks away and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. It’s not that I want her to fall at my feet and profess her undying love, but I want her to trust me. It makes me wonder who has hurt her in the past to make her like this.
“Sir, we have to go, but it was very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand again and this time I feel him put a little more strength into it.
“Someday, I’ll see you play live.”
“I’d like that,” I tell him as Daisy motions for me to go to the door.
Daisy says her goodbyes and meets me out front, shutting the door behind her. Right now would be the perfect time to kiss her, but I want to do it after she blows out the candles on her cake tonight.
