Page 11 of The Bad Boy’s Homecoming (The Southern Hart Brothers #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Levi

Are You Ready for It?

L evi was playing a dangerous game flirting with Missy, in his grandmother’s house, about five feet away from a bedroom. What if she flirted back? What if she took him up on his offer? Was there an offer?

She was insanely gorgeous, sexy in a way he couldn’t describe in traditional terms. She didn’t wear fitted clothes, or a lot of makeup, and she wore her chestnut brown curls, sun-kissed on the ends, hanging wild around her shoulders or in a messy bun.

But the slope of her long neck begged to be kissed, and her prominent collarbones made him want to explore the rest of her beneath her baggy tops.

Even her worn jeans that hugged her subtle, long curves, and bare feet turned him on. Which was a first.

Before he could dwell on it his phone lit up with text messages from his agent.

We need to talk about this contract.

You can’t negotiate without communicating.

You’ve missed a full week of spring training.

Sitting on the edge of his narrow bed Levi was poised to reply when his phone started to ring.

“Dang it.” He sighed but then clicked Accept Call.

“Stewart, what I want to know is which other teams you’ve secured a bidding war for my talent with?” Levi said.

“Bro, Atlanta still wants you, and they’ve agreed to add a hefty signing bonus.”

“And what about the personal image clause? I’m not portraying this ridiculous role they created anymore.”

“Well they did agree to modify some language and I think we can work with it.”

“You don’t sound at all convincing,” Levi said.

“Why don’t I bring you a copy of the contract and we can talk about it. We can meet for drinks.”

“Unless you feel like enjoying a five-hour drive, I suggest you email me a copy.”

“Five hours? Where’d you go?”

“Home.”

“But you live downtown.”

“My hometown, where my family lives. Just send me the contract and if it’s not more of the same I’ll call you back.”

With that he hung up. Stewart had been his well-paid agent for nine years, but he could tell when he was being fed a load of BS.

And he knew his agent just wanted him to play his part as baseball’s Bad Boy, and stay with Atlanta.

The problem was that to his agent and the team negotiator he was just another number, another contract for them to make money off of.

After nine years, Stewart didn’t remember Levi’s hometown was along the coast in Georgia, and he didn’t care why he was now disappointed in his team.

Levi realized his allegiance to Atlanta was really his love for the memory of his father.

The best parts of his childhood were spent with his dad rooting for this team.

He’d dreamed of playing for Atlanta one day.

But he wasn’t going to pretend to be a bad guy anymore.

He was positive his father wouldn’t be proud of that.

And then it dawned on him that he’d let his own reputation and drama color how he treated Missy.

She was right—if his brothers trusted her why couldn’t he?

Just because he’d been dealing with schemers and the type of people who used him for their own benefit, like Sara, it didn’t give him the right to assume Missy was like that.

Embarrassment over how he’d behaved washed over him.

Now he could add apologizing to his list of things to accomplish: find a new team, get a new contract, and eat crow by admitting he was wrong to expect the worst out of Missy.

He made his way downstairs to find his grandmother, but she was snoozing in the living room.

And then his phone dinged with the notification he had a new document to review, his contract.

Instead of reading it, he found himself standing in the middle of the sunroom art studio filled with new paintings.

Missy must have been working on these while she was hiding out at her cousin’s the last two days.

The most interesting aspect was how different the feeling was that each piece carried.

Like he had a view into her emotions throughout the day.

One painting was covered in little kids’ hand prints over an old fence in the background and a rose bush with a few large, delicate blooms. Next to it was another smaller work of the ocean at night with a sky full of stars and a moody moon.

Then the two pieces from the beach where he’d almost kissed her cast an initial facade of calm, but hinted at a storm brewing.

And finally his red fire painting was now hung above a table where several pieces of wood sat in various shades and sizes.

“Snooping is unbecoming.” Missy’s voice sounded from the doorway.

“Do you make your own frames too?” he asked, taking the time to study the tools on the table.

She shrugged. “It’s not that hard when they’re precut to fit the canvas lengths. And they help protect the paintings when I ship them.”

He studied her. In her fresh loose-fitted dark sweater and jeans, she looked cozy and huggable.

Something he couldn’t remember thinking about a beautiful woman before, but it was an undeniable craving he had every time he was around her.

She looked like a woman he wanted to know better.

But she turned to walk away from him before he could think of something interesting to say.

Leaving him no choice but to trail after her into the kitchen.

He stopped and stood on the opposite side of the island and rested his hands on the cool butcher block.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve behaved. I shouldn’t have been so suspicious of you and I’m sorry.”

Missy was pulling things out of the fridge, then grabbed a cutting board, and a large pot, but didn’t respond.

“Will you accept my apology?”

“Sure, Mr. Hart,” she said, retrieving a peeler from the drawer by the sink, and still not looking at him.

“That doesn’t exactly sound convincing, and please don’t pull that Mr. Hart nonsense with me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, I’m just being respectful. I’m not trying to cause any problems during your visit, and I technically work for your family. I was just going to get this soup started for your grandmother and then I’ll be out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way,” he said exasperated. “I’m trying to call a truce.”

“Okay,” she said and began peeling carrots.

“Okay. Can I help you?”

“No thank you.”

“You’re not going to relax around me?”

“I’m perfectly relaxed.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

Finally, she showed some emotion and let out a breath. She allowed her shoulders to fall and met his eyes.

“You’ve taunted me and been rude to me since you arrived. I’m as relaxed around someone I don’t know, or trust, as I’m ever going to get,” she said then continued to peel the carrots with calm strokes.

“Okay, let me try another tactic. What’s your favorite treat?”

Her peeling paused and she met his eyes again. He fought every urge to laugh.

“It’s an easy question. Your favorite guilty pleasure, the one thing you let yourself have every once in a while.”

She started peeling again. “Your grandmother loves butter pecan ice cream, so sometimes we have that after our walk on the beach.”

“No, I want to know what you like. What do you crave?”

Missy shook her head and then set down the carrots and rested her hands on the island, mirroring his stance.

“Why?”

“Because I want to contribute to dinner, so if you’re cooking, I’ll get dessert. But I don’t know what you like.”

“Why are you here?”

“This is my family home.”

“But why are you here now? You’re a professional baseball player and spring training started this week. So why are you here?”

He met her inquisitive stare. “Because my team won’t give me a new contract I’m willing to sign.”

“Are you quitting baseball?”

“I’m not sure. I may not have a choice.”

“So you’re here indefinitely.”

Her shoulders seemed to stiffen but then she released them and picked up the knife to chop the carrots and toss them in the pot.

“I guess I am, so we may as well get along. One big happy family. Maybe you can give me a job making frames.”

A smile tugged at the side of her mouth. “My cousin said you’re a beast at the plate,” she said waving her knife. “Can’t you just sign on with another team?”

He couldn’t help but like hearing she’d talked about him with her cousin. “Do you like baseball?”

“I’ve never watched it. I’m not really into sports.”

“I bet you were in the art club in high school? Maybe drama too?”

“And you were captain of the baseball team?” she guessed.

His phone dinged again with a message from his agent, asking if he’d read the contract.

“Did you make it through contract law in school? Any chance you enjoy reading persona clauses in sports contracts?”

“No, I think they cover vanity contracts in the third year of law school,” she said, now slicing celery.

“Maybe I’ll visit your cousin when I’m in town picking up dessert.”

“He’s the best.”

“Last chance to make me cut those onions for you.”

“I can handle it.”

“Alright.” He didn’t want to leave but he didn’t want to push her too far too soon either. “My offer still stands on the red painting.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“What about the set of the ocean?”

“Anything for sale is posted in the online gallery. I can’t stop you from buying them.”

“Noted.”

He stood watching her long delicate hands scoop up the vegetables and toss them in the pot, then start on the onions.

“You’re still here,” she said as she diced.

“There’s something about you—it draws me in.”

Her hands paused briefly, then she continued dicing.

“I’m not interested in whatever that means. I like working for your grandmother and living here.”

“I understand. I was just being honest. Since you caught me staring.”

“Your grandmother likes to eat around six, then she has book club tonight so you may want to make yourself scarce.”

“Let me guess, all the Sandy Point matriarchs will be converging on this house?”

Now she looked up with a wicked smile and her eyes glistening from the onions.

“I’m not scared of those pushy women. You’re the one who should be worried, because I can guarantee they’ll be trying to tell you to marry the most eligible, wealthy grandson among them.”

Her smile fell, which meant they probably were already pushing their grandsons at her.

“I’ll give you one guess who will be on the top of that list, now that Dalton’s on lockdown,” he teased.

“Weren’t you leaving?”

“See you for dinner, Little Miss Sassy.”

With an extra pep in his step, Levi departed the house and drove into town. He knew he should actually read the contract before he saw a lawyer, but he was more eager to ask Declan about Missy than to find out about his future. Not a great sign for his baseball career.