Chapter Twenty-Two

Sawyer

I’ve been pacing the floor since I got home from work. I tried to work out, but I was so distracted that I almost killed myself with free weights, so I opted to shower and wait. I’m not sure if she’s coming here or if I’m expected there. Hell, if it were up to me, I’d show up at the damn café and third-wheel their little work thing.

But the one thing that kept me from doing just that was the look in her eyes. They’re different when she’s talking to Bryce versus talking to me. When she communicates with the other math teacher, it’s friendly, yet clinical, and the moment her eyes meet mine, it’s all fire and desire.

I check my phone again, waiting to see if she’s sent a text since I last checked it three minutes ago. I know what you’re gonna say: I’m whipped. And ya know what? I don’t give a shit. Call me what you want, but I don’t care. I don’t care because it’s true. I’m whipped by a beautiful woman who makes me feel more alive than I ever felt playing baseball.

Now, if I could only get her face-to-face so I can fix my fuckup.

I’m going to find her.

Decision made.

I grab my keys, completely not caring about turning off any lights, and head to the front door. My car is still outside in the driveway, so it’s easier to cut out of the house this way than through the garage. Ripping the door open, I almost slam into the woman with her hand raised as if she were about to knock on my door. But it’s her scream of surprise that stops me in my tracks.

AJ.

“Shit, I almost ran you over.” Yep, stating the obvious. Idiot.

“I’m sorry. I was going to call first, but my car…well, it just drove over here.” Her brown hair is pulled into a ponytail high on her head and her clothes are different than what she wore to work. She looks casual and beautiful.

“I’m glad it did.” So fucking glad. “Come in.” I step aside and wave her in. Her scent sweeps by me as she enters my home.

“I really am sorry for just dropping in on you. I went home after meeting Bryce at the café and was going to call you, but decided to go for a drive.”

“It’s fine. I’m really glad you’re here. Can I get you a drink?” I ask pointing to the living room.

“Actually, do you have any beer?” She wraps her arms around her waist, glancing around as if the place would be different than it was just a few nights ago. Well, everything is completely the same, including the panties hanging from the light in the foyer.

I return from the kitchen with two beers, even though I don’t really want one. I need something in my hand. Otherwise, it’ll be her in my hands and I don’t think she’s quite ready for that. AJ is standing at the sliding back door that leads to the deck. The sun is setting and the view of the Bay is almost as breathtaking as she is.

“Do you want to sit outside?” I ask.

Glancing over her shoulder, I see the tension and nervousness in her eyes. She nods quickly and opens the door. There’s a breeze, but it doesn’t bother me any. I’ll have to watch her, though, for any sign that she’s getting chilly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her honestly as she takes a seat in one of the chairs. She curls her legs beneath her body, the casual way she does when she gets comfy on my couch.

“Me too.” She takes a long pull from her beer before setting it on the table beside her.

“I owe you an explanation,” I start, gazing over at her. She doesn’t say anything, which is my only indication to keep going. “I’ve been labeled as a playboy basically since the moment I stepped into the majors. My PR firm loved the additional exposure, so I was advised to just ‘go with it.’ I never disputed or argued the claims, even though everything was completely fabricated. Did I have one-night stands? Yes. I’m not about to lie to you and tell you I didn’t. Did I have them after I met Carrie? Fuck no. I’m not the man I’m portrayed in the media, AJ.”

I take a deep breath and keep going. “When I started dating Carrie, the stories changed. I was the playboy tamed by the beautiful model. Sure, we were still tailed everywhere we went, but at least they were focused more on my relationship than on what they called my extracurriculars. I proposed after we had been dating a year, and we got married a year after that. It was a big, elaborate thing that I really didn’t want, but Carrie insisted. We were both in the public eye, and therefore, it was expected of us to let the public in on that part of our lives too. I hated it, to be frank, but went along with it because it was what she wanted.

“About a month after we were married, the first news story hit about me cheating. I was in Chicago, playing a series against the Sox, when I was photographed in a club with a woman. That woman was trashed and stumbling all around. I was sitting on a couch beside my teammate Joel. I reached out and helped steady her, but the damage was done in that fraction of a second. My hand was on her leg and she appeared to be straddling my lap. The headline read: ‘Randall Out for a Good Time Without His Wife’.”

I take a deep breath. “At that point, I was labeled, followed, and hounded even more than I already was. My PR agency, again, informed me not to respond. Carrie was pissed, even though she swore she believed me. It was much of the same for years, until my accident.”

“Then their focus changed,” she confirms.

“Yeah, it changed. And it took three months after being injured before I found her in bed with a teammate.”

Her big green eyes widen, a look of shock transforming her beautiful face. “What?” Her words are barely above a whisper.

“I came home from therapy and found her in our bed with my replacement.”

“Fucking bitch,” she mumbles through her gasp.

“That she was. Is. She told me it was because I wasn’t giving her enough attention. I was fucking going to therapy every day. My career was over and I was still trying to come to terms with it. And I wasn’t giving her enough attention.” I sit back and watch the waves crash against the sand. “Hell, maybe I didn’t. It was in that moment that I knew I had to get out. I had to get away. I was certainly not going to stay married to a woman who could cheat so easily to try to get my attention. Especially when she accused me of whoring around our entire marriage.”

“I’m sorry, Sawyer.” Her apology isn’t necessary or needed, but still comforting all the same.

“It’s fine. I got over it and am past it. Well, I thought I was until Sunday night,” I say, her body tensing in the chair.

“What did she say?” she asks softly.

“She told me things…about you.”

“Me?” she asks, sitting up straight.

“Yeah, she said you broke up a marriage not that long ago. More than one, actually,” I confess, not at all proud to acknowledge that I chose to let Carrie’s words affect me as much as they did.

A look crosses her face, and for a moment I see a touch of guilt mixed with sadness. “Wait, how would she know anything about me?”

I chuckle, but it lacks any humor. “That’s the thing about Carrie. She’s very…resourceful. In fact, for a long time, I’ve suspected she was behind some of the photos that showed up in the rag mags. Half the time, I wasn’t in a public place that would be accessible for a photog. Yet, they always had a way of finding me, and always in the exact moment some strange woman walked up, posing as a fan, and moments later would plant her lips on mine.”

She seems perplexed. “So, you’re telling me that Carrie could have been following me?”

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t Carrie personally, but yeah, I think she had someone looking into you. It’s the only thing I can come up with as to why she knew…things about you.”

AJ seems to be lost in thought for a few moments, so I just let her be. After a few minutes, her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in my crazy life. I guess, I just thought when I moved here, I was leaving all the bullshit behind.”

“It’s not your past that bothers me, Sawyer, it’s the fact that you didn’t come to me when she told you those things. The fact that you chose to let her words affect you, without allowing me to explain, hurts as much as your silence.”

Instantly, I’m on my feet and kneeling before her. “I fucked up, AJ. I’m so used to closing myself off or trying to stay one step ahead of her manipulation.”

“I’m not her.” Her words are blunt and to the point. The weight carries the force of a thousand knives to my gut.

“I know. Fuck, do I know. You’re so much the polar opposite of her that I can’t see straight.”

“I would have told you, you know. If you had asked about what she said…that marriage thing…I would have told you everything. In fact, I would have anyway because I’m one who believes there shouldn’t be secrets between two people in a relationship. And even though we never officially declared anything, it feels like we were headed that way. At least it felt like it to me,” she averts her eyes.

“Me too, baby,” I answer quickly, bringing my head forward and setting it against hers. “It felt like that because that’s exactly where we were headed. Where we are headed.” My eyes find hers and I see tears brimming.

She takes a deep breath. “Then you need to know about Joe.”

Just the sound of the guy’s name elevates my blood pressure, but I force myself to school my features and appear calm. I also reach for her hands, linking our fingers together, because if I’m going to hear about my AJ with another man, I need to feel like I’m grounded, and touching her does that for me. “Go on.”

“He lived nearby and came to town a time or two a week for work. He told me he was divorced, which it turns out he was not. I found out one night when his pregnant wife called me up and told me.”

“Fuck,” I groan, knowing where this was going.

“He lied to me for weeks while warming my bed, and then would go home to his wife and kids. I didn’t know,” she whispers, the tears finally falling and her guilt reflecting in her sad eyes.

“I know, baby,” I tell her before kissing her forehead, my lips lingering just a little longer than they should. “He was the ultimate douchebag.”

“He was.”

“She left him?” I ask, knowing that if the information Carrie was given was accurate, she did.

“I think so, though it’s not like she actually called me after that night to chat.”

“Of course.”

She gives me a sad little smile. “That was the only one,” she insists.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” she asks, swiping away at her tears angrily.

“I believe you.”

AJ stares at me for a few moments, her eyes searching my own. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

She nods. “And thank you for telling me about Carrie.”

“I’m sorry it took so long. You deserved to know the moment she left.”

“I did,” she states.

“But I want to do better. I want to be better…for you.”

She reaches forward and sets her hand on my cheek. Her thumb traces my bottom lip. “You already are, Mr. Randall. I just need you to be real and honest with me, okay? Even though it drove me insane that you were alone with her, I trusted you.”

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” I say through my first real deep breath in days. My arms wrap around her and pull her into my body, her scent surrounding me.

“I have everything to be jealous about. Have you seen you?” she asks with a giggle, making me pull back to see her.

“I only want you.” My words are pure and honest and make her eyes sparkle like emeralds. Then, I pull her flush against me, my body sparking to life the way it only does when I’m with her. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper into her hair.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss my girlfriend and show her just how sorry I am for being an asshole.” To punctuate my words, I slide my lips down the long, sexy column of her neck.

“Your girlfriend?” she asks, her lips gently curling upward when my own reach hers.

“Fuck yes, baby. Now that I’ve had you, I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

“I kinda like the sound of that,” she replies, sliding her hand down my chest. All of the blood in my body starts to head toward one concentrated area below my belt.

“You won’t mind being seen in public with a former player?” I ask sarcastically.

“As long as the only playing you’ll be doing is with me.” Her grin is wicked.

“Only you,” I declare just before my lips claim hers–finally.

It’s a kiss of necessity, like breathing. It’s slow and tantalizing as if we’re both savoring the taste and feel of each other, a coming together of two halves, like puzzle pieces. All it takes is her rushed exhale of breath, that deep respire of contentment and satisfaction that makes my blood roar in my ears and my libido kick into overdrive.

My hands are in her hair, fingers tangling with the rubber band that’s pulling it back. I need that little piece of elastic gone and those locks wild and unrestrained. It’s one of my favorite looks, especially when it matches her eyes.

Her nimble fingers grip my shoulders and slide down my arms, squeezing my muscles and making them jump. Soft fingers then move to my chest, where she pushes up my t-shirt and grips my chest. “Fuck, I’ve missed having your hands on me,” I gasp, my breathing harsh.

“I want to touch you. Everywhere.” Her words are the accelerant to the already raging fire that’s lit within. It flames to life, bright and alive, ready to devour everything in its path. And right now, it’s Miss AJ Summer who’s there, my body burning for only her.

My Alison.

“Come with me, baby,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her and lifting.

“I can walk,” she insists as I lead her into my house, securing all doors before I tote her upstairs. Of course, it takes a hell of a lot longer to complete the task when I pin her against several walls, the entertainment center, and even the refrigerator, to ravish her sweet little mouth, before ascending the stairs.

Her fingers slide into my hair as we enter my bedroom. The sun has set and the moon casts a soft shadow against the dark bedding. It would be the most amazing backdrop, the moon shining off her hair as it’s splayed against my pillow. And that thought stops me in my tracks.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, when I don’t move and stop kissing her.

“I just realized something,” I mumble as her mouth trails down my throat.

Her wet tongue slips out, licking and tasting my skin. “What’s that?”

“We’ve never fucked in my bed,” I state, the realization a bit comical, yet completely unacceptable.

“Sure we have. We…” she trails off, deep in thought, as if trying to recall that one time we had sex in my bed. But she won’t find that time. We’ve had sex on practically every surface in this joint, tore half of my living room apart by Hurricane Ali, but never in the one place that mattered.

That’ll change tonight.

Tonight, we won’t have sex or fuck.

Tonight, when I take this woman to my bed, it’ll be to make love to her.

No, I’m not declaring anything, but she means more to me than some casual fling or one-night stand. Shit, she’s always been more, even when she was passed out in my hotel room and I knew nothing more than her first name. She was under my skin the moment our eyes met, a connection cemented so damn deep, it’ll be there until the end of time. She’s quickly becoming my everything.

Tonight, I show her.