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CHAPTER TWELVE

SILAS

I’d headed to Park Slope early, finding a spot around the corner from the restaurant Rachel had suggested. This was definitely a different neighborhood from where we’d first met, the tree-lined streets and little shops giving an urban small-town kind of vibe.

I made my way to the restaurant, adjusting the baseball hat on my head to shield my eyes. After the season officially started, I’d probably have more of a risk of being recognized, but I didn’t want to chance being photographed with a woman and having it go viral like those stupid reels from last season had.

I had to laugh at the weird position I was in. Kent wanted to exploit my popularity, telling me earlier today that my jersey had already been selling well online. But it had nothing to do with my stats or talent. It was about how I looked and what fame I could bring my new team.

I seemed to be the only one focused on wins this season, but I’d have to try to keep that edge of resentment out of whatever I’d tell Rachel. I didn’t doubt I’d sit down and want to spill everything.

“Oh hey. I didn’t expect you to be early too.”

I turned around to find Rachel standing behind me as I made it to the front entrance of the Chinese restaurant.

“I came early to get parking.” I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, shrugging. “My new truck is around the corner.”

“Wow, brave soul.” I smiled back when her lips curved. “I rent a car when we have to travel outside of the city, but I get to most places on foot or by subway.” She motioned to the restaurant door. “Park Palace is one of our favorites, but we usually get takeout. Eating inside will be a treat.”

Her brown eyes sparkled as they met mine, a deep, bottomless chocolate I could still get lost in.

I averted my gaze and glanced back at the gold letters across the black restaurant awning.

“I’ve missed New York Chinese food.” I reached for the door handle and pulled it open. “After you.”

I caught her chest rise with a deep inhale as she met my eyes, probably thinking of the time I’d grazed against her on purpose as I opened the door to that coffee shop. We couldn’t be flirty or playful today, and it already sucked.

The tables were mostly empty, as I’d expected on a late Friday afternoon. Rachel asked the hostess for the booth in the far corner that seemed to be closed in on all sides. I guessed she’d picked that table for the privacy we’d need to talk, even though the few patrons here didn’t seem to notice us as we made our way to sit.

All I could think about was that it was tucked away far enough to run my hand up her thigh and get her to make that little mewl when my fingers found the heaven between her legs.

For fuck’s sake. Get it together, Jones.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked after I cleared my throat a little too loudly, trying to knock myself back into the present and end these hot yet pointless fantasies that would only tempt and distract me more than I already was.

“We can go somewhere else?—”

“No, this is fine,” I said, squeezing her shoulder before I realized it. “It’s just been a long week, but this is okay.”

She stiffened a moment under my touch as she glanced back at me, her eyes searching mine, beckoning me even more. This attraction or pull or whatever this was between us was just as confusing and potent now as it had been when we’d first met.

Something that, if we were going to work together, I had to try harder to ignore.

My ex-wife had once accused me of being a robot without feelings or affection, and I’d always wondered if she was right. I’d thought the way Rachel had made me come alive that night was a fluke, but when I couldn’t stop thinking about her afterward and almost swallowed my tongue when I saw her again, maybe the problem wasn’t me after all.

Maybe it had been a marriage dead enough not to want to fix it, even if it had felt like I should.

“If it’s okay with you, once we get started, I’d like to record.” She set her phone on the table and handed me a small clip-on microphone. “I’ll take notes, but it will be easier for me to capture everything if I can play it back. No one will listen but me, and I promise to delete it after the article is written.”

“That’s fine with me,” I said, taking the mic and clipping it onto my T-shirt. “How’s this?”

She slipped in an earbud and nodded.

“Perfect,” she said, pressing a button on her phone screen as she smiled. “Is that your way of being incognito?” she joked, nodding to my cap.

“I guess. I mean, I’m not that known around here yet, but I didn’t want any leering eyes or interruptions.”

“Well, you’re sitting down. No one can watch you walk away.” The corner of her mouth lifted as she picked up a menu. “They won’t know they’re dining with the best butt in baseball.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been on Instagram, I guess.”

“Only today. My sister was the one who told me about that and showed me a reel. That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“It’s ridiculous,” I said, nodding a thank-you as the waiter set down glasses of water. “One online article with me on a list seemed to get everywhere. The guys would always give me shit over it.”

“I bet you had that title before the article. I’ve seen enough footage of your games. But when I start the recording, I’ll leave that out.”

I took a sip of water, holding Rachel’s pretty gaze over the rim. The cold liquid slid down my throat, and I managed to relax for the first time this week.

“So, what should I get?” I asked Rachel as I picked up a menu.

“Asking the locals again?” As the side of her perfect mouth tipped up, a smile glided across my own lips.

While I’d been excited to see her again—and talk to her without anyone else watching—I’d been nervous too. I hadn’t known if she was angry for what I didn’t share with her or embarrassed about what had happened between us, but it was just as easy as it had been when we first met.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, as it was already a struggle not to get sucked in again. Or sucked in more.

“It’s never failed me before.”

I caught her cheeks flush a little red before her eyes flicked to the menu. It felt like unspoken memories of that amazing night dangled between us, even if we were only referencing the before.

“The chicken lo mein is awesome and comes in family style if you’d like to share. I usually wouldn’t offer to do that with a client, but…”

I laughed as she trailed off, pursing her lips.

“Yes, I think we…know each other enough to share.”

“That we do,” she whispered with a slow nod as she called the waiter over and told him our order. She brushed the hair off her shoulder as she straightened and leaned forward in the seat, treating me to a peek at the graceful slope of her neck. She really was beautiful, and I really needed to stop gawking at her each time I noticed.

“So,” she started, nodding to the mic still clipped to my collar. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Sure. Ask me anything you need to.”

She tapped her phone screen and dug out a notebook from her bag.

“For my research, I had to watch a lot of videos. Well…not the reels set to music, but the actual games. You were an incredible player. I can see why the Bats are so excited to have you.”

“Well, I’d become suddenly available,” I said, trying to laugh, but the ending of my baseball career was fresh enough to sting.

“I watched that video too,” she said with a soft whisper. “Not the actual play at your last game. That was…too hard to watch.”

“I haven’t watched the replay either, for my own reasons, but I can see how it would be traumatic to see someone get injured like that.”

“I couldn’t watch because it was you.” She raised a brow. “I didn’t want to see you get hurt, especially knowing the choice you had to make after.”

My chest flooded with warmth at the sincerity in her gaze. Empathy, not sympathy or pity, was reflected in her brown eyes.

“Well, it really hadn’t been a choice. But I’m glad it wasn’t. I would have probably thrown myself into rehab that wouldn’t have worked, only to come back the injured old guy who couldn’t do his job anymore.”

I lifted my hat and smoothed my hand over my hair before setting it back on my head. I hadn’t wanted to talk about my career-ending injury and aftermath, but I couldn’t stop the word vomit over it.

“I think walking away was brave. And smart. Despite how much it must’ve sucked.” Her voice softened an octave as her hand flexed, almost as if she was going to reach out to touch mine.

I would have let her and grabbed on.

“I’d known my time was running out before then. I was still doing well, but playing wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Or at all. It’s the reason why our team chiropractor is now one of my closest friends. We spent a lot of time together after I turned forty.”

Her shoulders shook with a chuckle.

“What is it like, being on the other side? Is that something you planned on doing after you retired?”

Retired. The word still made me feel ancient and useless, even though I’d always been told to prepare for it.

“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. The Bats approached me while I was still in rehab after I had announced that my playing time in Washington and in general was over.”

“That fast?” Rachel reared back. “They didn’t give you a chance to recover?”

“My agent told me that was a good thing. That I was still a commodity. I resisted at first because I’d become very fucking sick of the word ‘still.’ Still playing, still doing well for a player my age, still wanted as a manager even though I couldn’t do the job I’d had since I was a kid.”

I fell back in the booth and dragged a hand down my face.

“Not sure if any of this is good for the article?—”

“I told you. I won’t write anything you don’t want me to. That’s a tough headspace to be in—and a lot of pressure to start not only a new job but a career with such high expectations.”

“The Bats are a good organization and a good team. I’m lucky for the opportunity and committed to the team. My hangups won’t get in the way.”

All I wanted was for my team to grow as players and have a good season, even if I had to do this show-and-tell in between the actual work.

“The team must be a little starstruck,” Rachel said with a warm smile. “I lost count of all your awards.”

I laughed. “Not that starstruck—or, at least, I don’t think so. They’re a great group of guys who want to win, and I’m happy to use what I know to get them there.”

“What’s different about playing in New York compared to Washington?”

“I don’t know if there is anything different. Everyone wants to win, and all the fans want their team to go all the way. Growing up here gives it a different vibe since I know how tough New York sports fans are in general.”

“I know you’ve been away for a bit, but we’re not that bad. New Yorkers get a bad rap.” She raised a scolding brow, and it was as adorable as it was hot.

“I agree, and no shade to New Yorkers at all. All fans want their team to do well, but here, I think it’s on another level. New York fans have an immense love for their teams, but it comes with higher expectations. The Bats may be new, but they’ll be held to the same standards. It’s just another thing to keep in mind.”

And lose sleep over.

“I would agree with that,” Rachel said, smiling as she looked up at me from her notebook. Shit, she was cute. And sweet. And off-limits.

“It’s good to be near my family again.”

She nodded as she scribbled a note.

“I’m sure they’re happy to have you home.”

“They are,” I said, nodding. “My mother says that she’s not as worried about me on the road because being in the dugout all night means less chance of me getting hurt or getting into trouble.”

“I’m sure you were a real menace on the road.” Her lips twisted in a smirk. “Booze and women at every stop, right?”

“Not every stop,” I said, slowly shaking my head when she lifted her gaze. “At least, not for a very long time. Other than my recent stop in Brooklyn before I settled here, but it was a good fucking stop,” I said, unable to help myself.

Her smile faded as her eyes, now darkened with heat, met mine.

“Let’s…um…stick to the subject.”

“What fun is that?” I asked.

“The only fun we’re allowed to have on my company’s dime.”

She shot me a playful scowl, and I could’ve gotten used to this. Eating dinner with a beautiful woman who chased all my troubles away and made me feel lighter just by listening.

Unfortunately, eating her was off the table—or, at least, we’d said it was.

Didn’t we?

We made it through all her questions and two plates each of the best chicken lo mein I’d ever had. I’d let out some vulnerable shit on her recording, but I trusted her not to use it. Other than this crazy attraction between us, we’d also connected on a deeper level than two strangers should have.

I felt like I knew her, despite how little or absolutely no sense it made. All I had to go on was the crazy chemistry we’d had, the way I could talk to her for hours about anything, and how she wrote her books. That kind way she had about her came through on every page, and I couldn’t stop reading.

It was a safe way to get lost in her without hurting us both, although it didn’t help the instant fixation I couldn’t shake off.

“Hopefully that wasn’t too painful,” Rachel said, her gorgeous smile once again making me forget everything around me but her.

“It wasn’t painful at all. I knew I was in good hands.”

My dick twitched at the memory of how good her hands really were. There’d been more than a few moments like that during the interview, but thanks to the table covering the bulge in my jeans from reminiscing, I was able to keep it to myself.

“I could send you my first draft before I show it to Gayle, if you’d like. Not my usual process, and I think Kent is supposed to be approving all the articles and promo, but I want you to feel at ease. I know this PR stuff isn’t your favorite.”

“Is it that obvious?” I huffed out a laugh. “I trust you, but if you want to send it to me to take a look, I’d love to read it.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.” She flicked her wrist to glance at her watch. “I was going to suggest dessert, but I have to pick up my sister at softball.”

“How far is it?”

“Only about a half hour away, but I try to leave extra time for the subway in case the train is late.”

“I can drive you. I’m parked up the block.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head.

“Why can’t you? I’m not just a client you’re interviewing. I’m a friend. Or I’d like to be.”

Friend wasn’t what I wanted to be to Rachel, but I’d gladly settle for it if it meant I could see her again. I didn’t have a lot of free time and neither did she, but what was the harm in talking?

Probably more than I wanted to consider, but I still wanted this piece of her, at least while she’d be lingering around the field over the next couple of months.

“Sure,” she said as her shoulders relaxed. “They have good ice cream here, and if you drive me, we’d have an extra half hour.”

“Good.” A smile ripped across my mouth. I’d take any extra time I could get. “How many different sports is your sister in?”

She dropped her chin to her chest.

“More than I can afford, but I haven’t figured out how to tell her no. Softball and swimming for right now. But sports are expensive, between the dues and the uniforms and the equipment, plus the stress of making sure I can leave work.” She pressed her fingers into her temples.

“It’s a lot?”

“Yes,” she said as she dropped her head onto the table with a thump. “I try to overcompensate for our mother and give her all the stuff I didn’t get growing up.”

“Can you ask her to choose?”

She shrugged. “She likes softball better, but she has friends in both. We have to have a hard conversation very soon, but I keep putting it off, thinking four extra hours a day or five hundred dollars are magically going to appear out of nowhere.”

“You can’t help her if you exhaust yourself.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve come this far. A lot further than anyone expected,” she mumbled to herself.

“But what happens to you?”

Her head jerked up. “What do you mean, what happens to me?”

“What happens when you wear yourself out and make yourself sick? Days off for yourself shouldn’t be so rare.”

“My downstairs tenant helps us out. She was a friend of my grandmother’s. She’d watch Taylor when she was little and if I had to work, and she keeps an eye on her for me when she’s home alone, which I try not to let happen very often or for too long. Since this guardianship came through, she’s been a little antsy.”

“Why? Didn’t you say you’ve been taking care of her from the beginning?”

“Pretty much, but our mother would breeze in and out. If she needed a place to stay for a night or two or had to use the bathroom while she was out.” She snickered. “My sister would look for her, until one day she stopped. And she would only get sad and quiet when our mother would pop back into our lives.”

“So, you never knew when you’d see her again?”

My mother had doted on both of us, despite what my brother had always claimed. I couldn’t imagine never knowing when I’d see my parents and having to take care of a younger sibling too.

“When I mentioned that it was getting a little dicey signing my mother’s name on Taylor’s school forms, my mother suggested handing over her rights to me and said, with my sister in earshot, if it got to be too much, I could always just put her in the system.”

“Jesus,” I spat out.

“Yep, and I would never let that happen. Taylor knows that, but when I made a joke about the truant officers coming to take me away if I let her stay home from school this morning, she got upset and I felt like shit. And I again went back to my bank account and schedule to see if she could keep both sports.”

“Can I say something?” I set my elbows on the table and leaned in. “Since we’re friends and all.”

A tiny smile danced over her mouth as she nodded.

“Sure.”

“It’s not your job to make up for your mother. You love your sister. I saw it that night when you first mentioned her. I’d bet if you make her choose one sport so you could breathe and have a break, she’d be fine with it.”

An intrusive thought barreled into my head, about being that person for her. The one who made up for all she’d obviously missed out on because she had a parent who didn’t care and had to learn to depend on only herself.

I’d caught a glimpse of the carefree side she probably never had a chance to show, and it had hooked me. The memory made me wish for that night all over again and yearn to be the one to let her have that kind of life, not just for a day.

But I’d be on the road soon, and I couldn’t be that guy, no matter how fucking much I wanted to be.

“I know that.” She exhaled a long, defeated breath. “But I have this need to keep trying. For both of us. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not. It makes you pretty fucking amazing. Taylor is lucky.”

Her eyes glossed over as they darted around the room.

“Thanks, Coach.”

I wanted to leap across the table and kiss her troubles away, forget all my own worries in those full red lips that I’d bet would taste just as sweet as I remembered and couldn’t for the life of me forget.

“This is a nice ride,” Rachel said, skimming her hands over the leather seats of my truck as I followed her directions to the softball field.

“It’s not bad. If I leave early enough, the ride from my apartment to the field isn’t that long. And it gives me time to get into the zone.”

“The managing zone?” she teased.

“Well, that remains to be seen. The zone that helps me look the part, even if I’m not there yet.”

“You’re there, Silas. I’m sure things will be an adjustment, but you’re there. I’m excited for you.”

I smiled as I pulled up to the curb in front of the field.

“And for all the new reels we’ll get.”

I cracked up as I shut off the engine.

“I’ll get out here. That cap isn’t going to protect you from all the teenage girls about to spill off the field in a few minutes.”

“I understand,” I said, stretching my arm along the back of the passenger seat, Rachel’s hair tickling the inside of my forearm. Why was this so natural? I itched to touch my lips to hers, to grab the back of her neck, press my mouth against hers and bring out that throaty whimper that haunted my dreams.

But that couldn’t happen. Not with her sister a few feet away, and probably not ever.

It had been hard enough to walk away from her the first time. Having her around but not having her would be its own special kind of torture.

“Oh, that reminds me. Taylor asked for your autograph.” Rachel grimaced as she reached into her bag and tore off a piece of paper. “Would you mind? I wasn’t going to ask you, but we’re friends, right?”

Her lips twisted into a smirk, my gaze snagging on her gorgeous mouth as very not-friendly feelings washed over me.

“We are,” I said, skimming my fingers against hers as I took the pen from her hand and scribbled my name onto the paper.

“Thank you. You just made me a hero.” She stuffed the paper in her bag, her eyes still on mine.

“I think you’re already a hero. So give yourself a break. Okay?”

“Only if you do the same.” She reached for the door handle, stilling as she looked back at me. “See you soon, Coach.”

“See you around, Slugger.”

She rolled her eyes as she heaved out an audible sigh and stepped out of the car.

“I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the p.

She glowered at me as she shut the door and jogged toward the field, leaving me as breathless as the day she’d punched me in the stomach.

And just as clueless as to what to do about it.