Page 10

Chapter ten

Evie

Living with Rhett when he’s on a home game stretch is exceptionally different from when he’s away.

I mean, obviously. When he was away, I could almost make myself forget that I was living with him at all. I could do what I wanted, not having to worry about anything except myself and Ruthie. I also felt lonely, having all those quiet mornings to myself.

But with him home, everything’s different. The apartment feels smaller, somehow. Maybe it’s just because he’s so big, taking up so much physical space, but I think it’s more than that. It’s the energy crackling between us.

The last thing I want to do is read too much into it, but the smiles he gives me each morning over our cups of coffee feel different from the ones he so easily flashes to everyone else. They’re more…authentic, in a way. Like I’m seeing the real Rhett, not the flashy, charming baseball player he shows everyone else.

This latest stretch, he was gone for over a week. And then he kept busy for a couple of days with games and practices. We haven’t had a lot of time when we’re both at the apartment, aside from those moments in the morning.

But tonight, we’re both home. When I get back from Aikido, he’s already returned from an afternoon game. I find him stretched out on the couch, Ruthie on his chest, both of them snoring lightly. It’s such a sweet scene, I whip out my phone and take a picture. By the time I’ve changed out of my Gi and returned to the living room to find something to drink, he’s awake and clipping Ruthie’s leash on.

“Hey,” he rumbles. “Didn’t hear ya come in. I’m just gonna take the little lady out for a quick walk.” He stretches his arms overhead, causing his shirt to ride up just enough to show me a sliver of tanned skin covered in a dusting of hair. “Oh, and thanks for switchin’ over the laundry.” He gives me an almost bashful smile. “I tend to forget shit in the washer a lot.”

“No problem,” I say, unable to formulate anything more eloquent, my brain on the fritz from the peek of bare skin, even though, by now, I’ve seen much more. He leaves with Ruthie, thankfully unaware of my reaction.

He’s so kind, so generous, so…perfect. Who could blame me for being drawn to him? But what used to be a physical infatuation alone is now becoming something more. Something risky.

Late at night, I definitely spend too much time imagining what it could be like to feel all that hard muscle bare beneath my hands. To have him in charge of bringing me pleasure instead of a battery-operated toy.

Thankfully, I manage to get my libido — and thoughts — under control by the time he returns with Ruthie. He’s carrying her and kissing the top of her head when they walk in. I lean against the counter with my arms folded across my chest in an attempt to look unaffected, when the truth is, it’s also to cover my pert nipples that had an instant reaction to his adorable affection toward my puppy.

“She’s never going to get used to elevators if you keep carrying her,” I say, arching my brow.

Rhett gives me a sheepish grin. “I know, but I can’t stand the sound of her crying. And when she looks up at me all scared, well, there’s no stopping it. I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

And apparently, I’m a sucker for a southern charmer.

A smile creeps across my own face. “You’re the one who said training her right away was important. And pretty soon, she’ll be too big to be picked up.”

He lets out a throaty chuckle as he sets Ruthie down and unclips her collar, hanging it on the hook next to his keys.

“That’s for sure. With paws like that, she’s gonna be a big girl.” He moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out some ingredients and setting them on the counter. “How do you feel about fajitas for dinner?” he asks over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” I protest.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m not cooking for just myself and letting you starve.” He actually sounds insulted, and I look at him, wavering between annoyance and wanting to swoon.

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Rhett. I can make my own meals. You’re already doing so much just by letting Ruthie and me stay here.” In the back of my mind, I know how ridiculous I sound. I should just be grateful, not annoyed.

Rhett sets down the red pepper he pulled out and turns to face me, leaning forward and resting his hands on the counter. The position makes his biceps bulge under the grey T-shirt he’s wearing, and I fight not to let my gaze bounce to them.

“Listen, Evie. I know you’re no damsel in distress. I know you’re more than capable of doing just about anything you decide to do. But you’re here, I’m here, and there’s no sense in us avoiding each other. So if I want to make two plates of food instead of one and sit them across from each other on the table, then I’m gonna do just that. And whatever happens to that second one, happens.” He raises his eyebrows. “Besides. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same for me, or am I wrong in remembering the breakfast you made for both of us yesterday mornin’?”

He’s got me there, and he knows it, judging by the smirk he gives me.

“Now, if you’re done being difficult, you could get in here and help me.”

My own smile cracks my face as I move into the kitchen. “Fine. What can I do to help?”

He inclines his head to the fridge. “First up, mind grabbing me one of those beers on the door? They’re nonalcoholic. I don’t drink much at all during the season, but it still gives the idea of an ice-cold beer. There might be some coolers in there as well if you want one, I try to have a few on hand for guests.”

I open the fridge and pull one out for him, opening the can as I answer. “I don’t drink at all.”

He raises his eyebrows at that. “Never?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I can’t stand the taste of most alcohol, and I hate how it makes me feel. ”

“Fair enough.”

I’m grateful Rhett doesn’t push. I’ve had too many people — mostly men on the few dates I’ve been on — try to convince me to just try a beer or wine, and I truly don’t enjoy the flavour. Simple as that.

Instead, we continue cooking dinner together. And every time he brushes past me to get something or lifts a spoonful of filling for me to taste, I try not to get too caught up in the fantasy.

This is nothing more than two friends enjoying preparing and eating a meal together. Even if it does feel intimate and comfortable. Even if I could easily picture him leaning in for a kiss following the sampling of food or wrapping his arms around me as I grate the cheese.

None of that happens. None of that will happen. And the sooner I get my whole heart and mind to believe that and let go of the fantasies, the better.

The next day, the team is playing a doubleheader. I go to the early game and sit in the stands wearing Kai’s jersey. I’m close to the dugout, so a lot of the players acknowledge me with a wave. Kai takes it one step further, climbing the steps and opening the gate to the stands to give me a quick hug.

“Hey lil sis, here to watch me make our family proud?”

I scoff, but he’s not wrong. I am incredibly proud of him. “Maybe I’m here to check out the other team. Their pitcher’s pretty cute. ”

The look of horror on his face is priceless. “Shut your mouth, Gigi, or I’ll tell Mom you’re the one who broke her Kutani vase.”

His coach hollers at him at that moment, and Kai disappears back through the gate and into the dugout. He’s lucky, or I would’ve smacked the hat off his head for calling me Gigi.

I’m pretty sure the stadium staff monitoring the gate want to murder him for the excitement his crazy antics causes, and I’ll be next in line, because for the rest of the game, I’m all too aware of the whispers and looks I get.

When the first game ends with the Tridents down by one, I duck out of the stadium with the crowds, sending Kai a quick text telling him I’m heading home.

Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I send one to Rhett as well.

EVIE: Hey, good game. Sorry it didn’t end better. I’m heading home, hope the evening game goes better, Ruthie and I will be cheering for you!

I’m halfway home on the bus before I get a reply.

RHETT: Thanks can’t win them all see you in the morning sleep well.

His message is short, but I’m guessing he’s busy with the team, so it’s sweet that he even bothered to reply.

Back at Rhett’s apartment, Ruthie greets me from her crate with an eager whine. “Let’s go, girl,” I say, letting her out and clipping on her leash. We head out for a long walk, and by the time we get back, the poor pup is exhausted. She crashes hard, right in the middle of the living room rug, even though her bed is just down the hall in my room.

Part of me wishes I could take a nap as well since she’s still not quite making it through the night without a potty break. But job searching won’t happen on its own, so instead, I pour a cup of herbal tea and crack open my computer once again.

I’ve already got my highlighted priority list in terms of what I want in a job next to me. My top choice school districts are open and bookmarked on my web browser, along with a generic job posting site that was recommended to me by my advisor at university.

But all the organization in the world can’t make a job appear out of thin air. An hour later, I’ve applied to two jobs, neither one that enticing. One is up in northern British Columbia, and the other is a part-time position about an hour outside the city. It’s hard not to feel discouraged by the lack of prospects. Maybe I was a fool, but I thought it would be a breeze to find my perfect job. Turns out, all the good special education positions are filled, I suppose.

When Ruthie wakes up, I distract myself by working on some obedience training. She’s smart, but her attention is easily swayed by everything. A siren outside, the sunlight on the glass coffee table, her own tail. After about twenty minutes, I give up and flop down on the floor. She immediately climbs on top of me and starts licking my face.

In no time, I’m laughing and pushing her away. “Oh my God, not the nose, Ruthie.” She barks and lunges forward again. I manage to sit up, and she tumbles to the floor. Recovering in an instant, she starts zooming around the apartment. “If I could have a fraction of your energy,” I say with a smile as she circles around me again and again.

I drag myself up to stand and try to think of what to do for dinner. In the end, girl dinner wins out and I find myself on the couch with a glass of sparkling water and a mini charcuterie board on my lap.

Turning on the television, the Tridents game pops up on screen. Of course, the sports channel is on. Looks like the game is almost over with the Tridents in the lead. I watch the last inning and a half, my breath catching in my throat when I see Rhett dive to make a catch. But he pops up and whips the ball across to Maverick King at third base, making the play and tagging the other player out.

I’m not a sports fan, other than baseball. And I much prefer to watch live than on TV, so after that play, I switch the channel, finding a cooking show that I used to have on in the background when I’d study late at night. Curling my legs underneath me, I finish my dinner to the sounds of the show’s host waxing poetically about turmeric.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I know, I’m startled awake by a pair of strong arms lifting me off the couch.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I sleepily protest, even as my arms wrap around Rhett’s neck. “The dog?”

“Shh. It’s okay. You were fast asleep when I came in. I took Ruthie out already, she’s waitin’ for you in your room,” he murmurs into the top of my head.

Maybe I’m lucid dreaming because I swear I hear him inhale deeply as if he’s smelling my hair. My body relaxes into his arms, sleep winning out over common sense. I’ll probably feel all sorts of embarrassed about this in the morning, but right now, I’m going to let myself enjoy the feel of being held by Rhett Darlington.

And when he gently lowers me to the bed and draws a blanket over me, I know I must be dreaming. Because this time, I don’t miss the warmth of his breath on my skin when he leans down and whispers in my ear.

“Sleep well, honey.”