Chapter Eight

Chelsea

“All right, babe. I’ve been dying over here! Robby just left for practice and I gotta know what happened last night after dinner!” Paris was practically breathless with excitement.

I didn’t know why I even answered the damn phone.

I sighed and flopped against the mesh fabric that stretched across the back of my office chair. “Nothing happened, Paris. I told you at the ballpark I’m not interested in dating right now and I am especially not interested in dating a ballplayer.”

A sentiment that had only been reinforced after the drive with Cody and that…well whatever it was…on my front porch.

Paris groaned. “You didn’t even break off a little piece of that? Damn, Chels, what am I gonna do with you? I practically handed you that ass on a silver platter and you have to admit—it’s a pretty perfect ass.”

I snorted. “Oh, he’s a perfect ass all right.”

Paris laughed. “Oh, come on. Get over yourself. You liked him. I could see it in your eyes.”

“Wrong.”

“Honey, I’m never wrong about this kind of thing and you know it.”

“Is this the part where I remind you about the last time you fixed me up? Mr. Handsy the Perv?”

Paris scoffed. “I didn’t set you up with him. I’d never met him before. And I’ve already apologized for that like a billion times. This is completely different. I’ve met Cody and I like him. And you do too. And what’s not to like? He’s pure man candy.”

“Hey, Paris, do me a favor and look down at your hand. The left one. What’s that doorknob thing? Oh, that’s right, your engagement ring.”

She laughed, the sound utterly unfettered. “Yeah, yeah. Robby’s not threatened. Believe me. He knows he has the goods to keep me entertained.”

“TMI, sista.”

“Did you see Cody’s hands? I bet he’s hung like a—”

“Paris!”

She cackled with delight.

I rolled my eyes and wondered how long it would take her to notice if I hung up the phone. She was clearly entertained with herself.

“All right, all right, I’ll stop. The real reason I’m calling is to see how things went with the car. Did they drop it off yet or do I have to go rattle some cages?”

I smiled. “As much as it pains me to take away your opportunity to go ream some people, the car is here, picture perfect.”

“Good. Speaking of pictures…”

“If you say the words Cody and dick pic, I’m going to cut you out of my life.”

She laughed. “No, no! Nothing like that. Did you see your cars pic in the paper?”

My heart stopped beating and plummeted to my stomach. I jumped up from my seat, sending my rolling chair skidding back behind me. “What?”

“Your car is Insta-famous dah-ling!”

“No, no, no…” I clicked the call on speaker and flipped open my news website for the local news.

“Yep. Someone took a picture of your car after that grand slam ball smashed the windshield and blasted it all over social media. Don’t worry, they blurred the license plate so you probably won’t have crazy stalkers coming after you. Probably…”

“Damn it! It’s in the local paper too.”

“Who reads the paper anymore?” Paris said, and I could imagine her nose wrinkling at such an outdated idea. I doubted she’d ever read a real newspaper. Personally, I liked the feel of the paper and the ink on my fingertips. I spent way too much time staring at a computer screen as it was. For reading, I liked physical books, the older the better, and I grabbed a newspaper usually every morning at the coffee shop I frequented. I hadn’t made it out that morning, after a later start than usual, thanks to my…ahem…alone time.

But there it was. Blasted across the sports section of the online version of the local publication.

“Ugh! What a disaster.”

“Oh, calm down. If anything, this is a good thing. The ball value will probably go up now that everyone knows about the grand slam.”

“Fantastic,” I replied, my tone dry and sarcastic. “I’ll be sure to put the picture of my busted ass windshield on the eBay listing for proof.”

“It’s a good idea, I’m telling you, some crazed Delgado fan will sell a kidney for that thing.”

“It’s not even signed, Paris.”

“Damn. We should have thought of that!”

I clicked out of the news site and took the phone off speaker. I pressed it to my ear and left my office. “You know, I don’t know all that much about baseball but shouldn’t you be more upset, on Robby’s behalf, over this whole thing? I mean it was kinda shitty for the team. You heard those crazy people at the bar last night.”

“Psh. There’s always going to be haters. Besides, as long as it doesn’t affect Robby, I don’t care. If the Warrior’s don’t turn it around this season, he’ll leave. He’s a free agent at the end of this season anyway.”

I stopped walking in the middle of the hallway. “And then what?”

“Then we’d see who the highest bidder is and move on to a new team.”

“You’d move?” The idea made my heart sink even lower. Paris was one of my only real friends in Oklahoma City. We hung out together every few days and texted incessantly. I couldn’t imagine her living somewhere else and only getting to see her when Robby’s new team came into town to play against the Warriors.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that now. It’s a long way off. Besides, I’m sure the Warriors will get their shit together. Robby’s pretty confident about it. You saw him last night. He wasn’t bothered by the game. It’s still early in the season.”

I nodded and started down the rest of the hall and then down the stairs. My stomach was rumbling and I needed a fresh cup of coffee as mine had gone cold while I’d sorted through my inbox. “Good. I don’t want you going anywhere.”

“I’m not planning on it. Besides, your job is location independent. You could always come with us!”

I laughed and raked a hand through my loose waves, still tangled from sleep. “I might have to. I just got another email from the investment firm. They want me to come in two weeks from now and update them with my progress.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. I don’t have anything to show them right now. Not even an idea…at least nothing worth building a full pitch around. Ugh. I’ve got to get it together.”

“You will, babe. I believe in you!”

“Thanks, Paris.”

“So, I guess this isn’t the best time to ask, but I have two tickets to tomorrow night’s game. You wanna go with me?”

I groaned. “No! No, I do not. I didn’t even want to go last night but you bribed me with sushi. Which I didn’t even get to enjoy…not with the Neanderthal pig in the seat beside me.”

Paris laughed softly. “Wow. You really didn’t like him, huh?”

“Ya think?”

“Sorry. I just thought…well…I thought you were doing that whole girl thing where you pretend you hate a guy but it’s really because you want him.”

“That’s insane.”

“Maybe so, doll, but we all do it from time to time.”

“I can assure you, that isn’t the case here. I think Cody is an arrogant ass who is used to chasing skirts and getting his way. I refuse to be another one of his conquests. A notch in his bedpost, belt buckle, or baseball bat. I don’t care.

“Well he’s a pitcher, so technically he wouldn’t have a baseball bat…”

I huffed. “You know what I mean!”

“All right. Calm down! What happened last night?” Paris paused. “From what I saw he wasn’t that bad. What did he say that has you so riled up over there?”

“Everything! He’s cocky and crude and—”

“Honey, give me specifics. He’s a man. You’re a hot woman. He’s allowed to flirt with you. Did he get handsy when I wasn’t looking? Tell you you’d look hot in duct tape and bubble wrap? What?”

“Duct tape and bubble wrap? Good Lord, Paris. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

She laughed. “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.”

I cringed. “He just kept telling me how bad I wanted him and acted like God’s gift to women the world over. That kind of thing.”

Paris giggled. “That doesn’t sound that bad, Chels. Why didn’t you just tell him you have a boyfriend or something?”

I gaped, unable to answer her.

“I get it, you don’t like them cocky and rich. I’ve added it to my mental matchmaking file. It’s cool. I’ll call Whitney and see if she’ll go to the game with me instead.” Paris gave a wicked laugh. “Cody sounds more Whitney’s type anyway from what you’ve said.”

My mouth worked, trying to find something to say—all I could think about was Whitney, dressed in a top so low it was amazing her nipples weren’t visible, jiggling and giggling for Cody. He’d eat her up. Literally.

The thought made my stomach roll with hot bile.

But why the hell did I care? I didn’t want Cody. I’d just spent twenty minutes explaining that—emphatically—to Paris over the phone. And yet…the idea of him with his mouth all over Whitney’s silicone enhanced boobs made me want to throttle the girl into next week.

“Unless you’d rather go with…” Paris dangled the bait with a sweetly sing-song tone.

Damn it!

I grimaced and squeezed my eyes closed. “Don’t call Whitney.”

I could just picture Paris’ Cheshire grin. She had me and she knew it.

“Are you sure? Robby will probably want to hang out after the game, and I don’t know who might tag along…”

I gritted my teeth together. “I said I’ll go.”

“Okay doll. Get to work and I’ll swing by to pick you up tomorrow at three! Ta-ta!”

How does she do that? I marveled to myself, staring at the phone in my hand.

* * * *

After getting off the phone with Paris, I slipped into a pair of black leggings, a t-shirt dress, with a black belt cinched around my middle. I piled my hair up in a sloppy bun on the top of my head, applied a smattering of blush across my cheeks, a thin layer of lip gloss, and laced up my trusty pair of classic black Converse high tops and headed off to the coffee shop a few blocks from my house.

“Hey, Chelsea!” Tonya, one of the regular baristas called out when I pushed through the door.

Tonya was probably around my age, with dark skin, dark, expressive, almond-shaped eyes, and sleek ebony hair that always made me feel like a sloth by comparison. She was always dressed like she stepped out of the pages of some fashion forward magazine—a feat considering her wages were probably barely above minimum wage—and was one of the sweetest people I knew.

“Hey, Tonya.” I stopped by the door to snag a newspaper from the stack in the media bins. I walked it up to the counter, already searching for the sport’s section.

“Hot news item?” Tonya asked, her tone amused as I tore through the paper.

I found the page and drew in a sharp breath. I’d expected to see a blown up version of the picture of my car. What I hadn’t expected was to find an even larger picture of Cody Wright beside it.

“Ooh! Who is that man-muffin?” Tonya asked, gawking at Cody’s picture.

Unbelievable. It was like he was stalking me in a very passive-aggressive kind of way.

“That is Cody Wright, some new baseball player.”

“Well I can see why this was an emergency newspaper situation. Too bad it’s not in color, huh?”

I glanced up at Tonya and shook my head. “That’s not what’s important. Trust me. He’s not important. This…” I paused to slap my finger down on the picture of my poor, innocent bystander of a car. “This is my car!”

“What?” Tonya reeled back. “What happened?”

“He did…” I said, glaring at Cody’s image.

“Wow. I’m sorry, Chelsea. How awful!”

I shrugged, trying to let it go. If I got all riled up again I’d never be able to get my focus back to work. “The car is fine. The repair shop dropped it off this morning with a new windshield. I just can’t believe they printed this is the paper.”

“Did you get to keep the ball?” Tonya asked casually. “You could probably sell it.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

She shrugged. “That’s what I would do.”

I squashed the paper into a square, not bothering to take the time to follow the crease lines. It was going in the recycle bin anyway. “The paper, a banana muffin, and a…” I stalled as my normal menu options rotated through my head. “And a caramel drizzle vanilla latte. Please.”

“You got it!” Tonya sprang into action and a few minutes later, I was holed up at the corner table, my laptop open, muffin halfway devoured, and my latte cooling to tepid perfection.

Unfortunately, Cody’s image was glued in my mind and the words and figures on the screen in front of me lost all meaning. What was I doing? I absently fingered the corner of the newspaper and before I could stop myself, I peeled it back to the sports page and Cody stared back at me. The black and white image was nothing compared to the real, breathing, living man, but it was enough to rattle me and take my mind back to forbidden places.

Damn him.

I pushed the newspaper off the table and it fluttered to the seat opposite mine. “Screw this! I have a bestselling game to design!”

A little pep talk never hurts.