Murphy leans in close and whispers in my ear. “I guess Brady doesn’t think he’s living on borrowed time.”
Her eyes go wide as she takes in Brady’s penthouse. It’s true. It’s impressive. He spared no expense. What I don’t tell her is that while I’m focused on making sure I have a future, Brady could care less if he has one. He’s impractical. Arrogant. Reckless.
And despite his cocky and roguish exterior, he thinks he’s broken beyond repair—his words, not mine.
My dime-store psychoanalysis, based on the eighteen hours of psych I took in college, is that the reason he has a different girl in each city is because he refuses to let anybody in. Because if he doesn’t let anybody in, he can’t let anyone down.
He hasn’t told me much, because he’s the most tight-lipped son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met, but what I do know is that he was married once and she was the love of his life. And the only reason I know that is because we got drunk together one time and he passed out, mumbling her name, saying how he was sorry and that everything was his fault. Sometimes I wonder if he couldn’t keep it in his pants. If he screwed up the best thing he ever had by cheating on her.
Brady is a good guy. A loyal friend who would lay his life down for his buddies. When it comes to women and relationships, however, he’s a complete jackass. Every woman he dates knows the score. They know they are one of many. And he never fails to remind them not to expect anything from him.
I’m not sure the other guys on the team even know what little I do about him. He’s a closed book. Except for when it comes to his wallet and his dick—both of those are usually up for grabs. It’s why he never lacks female companionship.
“Is that … Oh, my gosh, is that an original Monet?” Murphy asks, gaping at the masterpiece hanging over his fireplace.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” I pull her behind me into his massive kitchen where all the action seems to be. “But, you know, if you really want to see something impressive, well …” I look down at my pants.
She swats me on the back of the head. “Don’t push your luck, Kessler.”
A smile splits my face. I love it when she calls me that.
“What can I get you?” a waitress asks, carrying a tray of drinks. “If I don’t have what you like, Jerry will make you anything you want.”
I look around the room and then over at Jerry the bartender and shake my head, laughing. Only Brady Taylor would hire a waitress and a bartender for a party with only a few dozen people.
“I’ll have a beer,” I say. “Murph?”
“Me, too. A light one if you have it.”
“Sure. I’ll be right back,” the waitress says.
“What’s so funny?” Brady asks, walking over to us.
“Nothing. Thanks for having us.”
“You have a beautiful place, Brady,” Murphy adds.
“You have a beautiful face, Murphy,” he says, eyeing her seductively.
I grab her hand. “Back off, Taylor.”
“Damn,” he says, looking at our entwined hands. “You two together now?”
I feel Murphy stiffen so I give her hand a squeeze. “We are,” I say. “So keep your eyeballs in their sockets, my friend.”
He laughs and pats me on the back. “I called that one, didn’t I? And believe me, there are plenty other things for my eyeballs to focus on.”
He’s right. There seems to be a disproportionate number of women to men in attendance. There are only a handful of our teammates here, but the harem of beautiful ladies outnumbers them by two to one.
One of the ladies walks up, draping herself around Brady. “Can I have the tour now?” she asks.
His arm snakes around her and he pulls her tight. “Sure thing. It’s Lindsey, right?”
She nods.
“You guys want to join us?” he asks, earning a disapproving look from his … date?
I take our beers from the waitress and hand one to Murphy. “No, you go ahead. I wanted to show Murphy your amazing view.”
“Catch you later, bro,” Brady says, pulling Lindsey and her huge smile behind him.
I introduce Murphy to a few of the guys and then on our way to the balcony, we get stopped by a couple girls.
“Caden Kessler, oh, my God, I love you, you are the best catcher.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I do what I can.”
The girl’s friend asks, “Can we get a picture with you?”
I look at Murphy, who doesn’t seem to be bothered by the intrusion. She holds her hand out for the girl’s phone. “I’ll be happy to take one.”
I smile and wink at her, happy that she’s okay with this. I know she’ll have to deal with this a lot. She’ll have to deal with this and a whole lot more. I’m glad to see it doesn’t upset her.
I pose with the girls standing on either side of me. They both stand on their toes and give me a kiss on the cheek when Murphy snaps the picture.
Murphy’s mouth puckers ever so slightly. It was so subtle, I almost missed it. But it was definitely there. And I find myself happy that she doesn’t want any other woman kissing me. I wiggle out from between the two girls and step back over to Murphy as she hands the phone back to them.
As we walk away, I feel one of them stuff something into my back pocket. I turn around and look at them. “That’s not cool,” I say.
“I was just giving you my phone number,” the brunette says. “I’m Bridgette.”
I hand it back to her. “Thanks, Bridgette, but you should probably give it to one of my teammates instead.”
I open the door and a rush of cold air engulfs us as I escort Murphy onto the massive wrap-around balcony that boasts one of the best views money can buy.
Murphy goes to the very edge, taking in the lit-up buildings of the skyline. “Wow,” she says, looking at the scenic view in complete reverence.
The way she’s looking at it makes me want to upgrade my own place so I can see her look like this every time she comes over.
I put my drink down and position myself behind her, wrapping my arms around her to keep her warm. “I’m sorry about what happened inside.”
“It’s okay. I know stuff like that happens all the time.”
“It bothered you when they kissed me.”
She shrugs. “It’s something I’ll have to deal with if we …”
I turn her around so we’re face to face. “If?” I say. “There is no if, Murph. We’re doing this.”
She looks up at me, smiling. I’m about to lean down and kiss her when the door opens and someone shouts, “Kessler, get in here!”
I turn around to see Sawyer beckoning us inside. I give Murphy a squeeze and then run a finger across her lower lip. “Come on, let’s go say hello to Sawyer. We’ll continue this later.”
I grab her hand as we gather our drinks and head inside. “Sawyer, you remember Murphy.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees our entwined hands. A huge smile breaks across his face as he kisses her cheek. “How could I forget the home run girl.”
Murphy laughs. “Is that what you guys call me?”
“That’s what he calls you,” I say. “I already have enough nicknames for you, Murphy’s Law.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Sawyer,” she says. “You’re the short stop, aren’t you? And you lead the team in stolen bases?”
Sawyer smiles. “Beautiful and smart. Looks like you got yourself a winner, Kess. Come on, I need you to settle a debate Spencer and I are having in the kitchen.”
“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec.” I turn to Murphy. “Leads the team in stolen bases? I never told you that.”
“I may have done a little internet research on the Nighthawks.”
I can’t help my massive smile. “Admit it, Murphy Brown, you like baseball.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like you.”
I pull her into my arms. “Good. Because I kind of like you, too.” I look down into her eyes, the eyes that are now looking at me the same way she was looking at the skyline. “Actually, I’m not sure like is a strong enough word.”
“Kessler!” Sawyer yells from the kitchen.
Murphy can’t peel herself out of my arms fast enough. “I have to use the bathroom,” she says. “I’ll find you in a minute.”
I watch her walk away, kicking myself for saying something so stupid.