Chapter Seven
This was not a date. Merely a fun evening with a friend.
Julia repeated the words to herself as her driver steered his car through the darkened streets of downtown Chicago Sunday evening, headed toward Ben’s home in the Southport Corridor neighborhood near Wrigley Field.
The sounds of cars honking and snow crunching under the tires mixed with the voice of Michael Bublé crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” over the radio. Outside her window, holiday decorations and lights flashed by, illuminating the car’s interior, casting shadows that matched the shadows of doubt she’d been battling all day.
Lilí had practically pushed her out the door with an exasperated, “¿Nena, estás loca?
Why would you not
go?”
Instead, Julia wondered if she was crazy for coming.
Huddled in the backseat with the rush of the car’s heated air warming her, thoughts of Christmases on the Island swarmed her. The fiestas with her familia
and friends, the late night parrandas
going from house to house singing and playing instruments. She missed the comfort of the coquís
serenading her at night when she fell asleep with her window open. Like the Islanders themselves, the miniature tree frogs indigenous to Puerto Rico had survived the horrors of Hurricane María and the aftermath. Battered, but not beaten.
The strength to survive, something Mami and Papi had driven into her and her brothers, especially in those months after the storm, guided her now. It fed her determination to succeed here in Chicago.
Which is why she had no business allowing herself to be distracted by heart-flutter-inducing romance. With a ballplayer.
Ex
-ballplayer, as Lilí had reminded her.
The driver turned down a quiet neighborhood street adorned with holiday flair. Lighted santas, reindeer, and nativity scenes glowed in the small, snow-covered front yards. Christmas trees brightened windows and colored lights outlined many of the homes.
They must be getting closer to Ben’s place. Julia’s shoulders shimmied with excited anticipation.
After making a left turn onto West Addison Street, the car slowed to a stop in front of a gorgeous, redbrick, two-story home with a dark, burnished metal fence that matched the window accents.
It was a large house, built to hold a growing family more so than a single guy who spent half of the baseball season on the road.
“Here we are.” The gray-haired driver turned to look at her over his shoulder, his chin hidden by a thick green scarf wrapped around his neck.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“It’s already covered by the guy who booked the car. Have a nice evening, miss.”
Julia thanked him and offered the same, then slid out of the vehicle.
Gingerly stepping over the snow plowed off to the side of the road, she made her way up the cobblestone path and several cement stairs to Ben’s front door. The porch light welcomed her, though a strange lack of Christmas decorations left his place the odd one out compared to his neighbors. She peeked at the front windows, but couldn’t spot a tree inside either.
For someone who seemed more like a homebody than the partying bachelor most single, multimillion-dollar athletes were, Ben’s lack of holiday spirit surprised her.
As she stood in front of his door, her gloved finger hovering over the black, rectangular doorbell, a mix of emotions assailed her.
Eagerness, at spending more time with him.
Fear, that she was coming to look forward to seeing him. Far more than a mere friend should.
Empathy, for a good man that life had thrown a major curve.
Ben might not have openly admitted it, but she’d caught the sadness in his eyes, the dejection in his slightly sagging shoulders when the topic of his playing days came up.
Just like with her brother, Alfredo.
Only, the pang she felt for Ben wasn’t brotherly. Not in the least. And that’s what worried her.
The wind kicked up, blowing a swirl of snow at her feet. A chill shuddered through her and she quickly pressed the bell.
Seconds later the door opened to reveal Ben, all six foot plus of hunky male in dark jeans and a light blue sweater that heightened the icy blue of his eyes. His dark blond hair was slightly mussed, like he’d recently run a hand through it.
His chiseled face brightened when he saw her. The grin he flashed made her heart flip-flop like a fish on the end of her papi’s favorite fishing pole line.
“Hi,” Ben said. “It’s good to see you. Come in.”
Moving aside, he gestured for her to enter.
Julia stomped the snow off her boots before stepping into the house, then paused inside the foyer, biting her lip to keep her jaw from dropping open.
While Laura and Sherman Taylor’s home might be grand opulence at its finest, Ben’s house was a veritable oasis. Intricate light and dark geometric patterns marked the inlaid wood floors while miniature palms rose up from the basement to tickle the first floor steps of a floating staircase connecting the home’s three levels. Columns in the same dark wood separated the various rooms on the main floor, with a trail of little wooden orbs the size of ping-pong balls stained to match dotting the curved archways of the cream-painted walls.
“Here, let me take your coat,” Ben said. “Make yourself at home.”
Eyeing the strong lines and intricate details in the design and structure, she slowly unwrapped her scarf. “This is absolutely beautiful, Ben.”
“Thanks. It’s a comfortable place to come to at the end of a long day or an even longer road trip.”
“I’m sure.” And yet, it lacked holiday spirit. She couldn’t resist asking why. “No tree though? Aren’t you expecting Santa to come down your chimney with gifts?”
Ben chuckled. “Probably not. My parents weren’t really into the holidays. And these days I’m usually traveling or celebrating with others at their place.”
The thought of a young Ben left to his own devices as a kid or now, alone in this sterile, albeit breathtaking, house devoid of revelry and tradition made Julia a little sad. Maybe because, for her, this time of year had always been filled with fiestas and customs shared with her familia.
Glancing at the living room that faced Addison Street, she easily pictured a stately fir holding center court in front of the middle window. A nativity scene at the tree’s base, a few wrapped presents beside it. A trail of garland looping the staircase railing. Ooh, the possibilities here were endless.
Hands on her hips, she faced Ben again. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but from the outside, your house looks kind of Grinchy. We might have to do something about that.”
“Oh really?” Ben hooked his thumbs in his front pockets, eyeing her with speculation.
“Uh-huh,” she pressed, unable to resist the fun in teasing him a little.
“Hmmm.” His brow furrowed, as if he was considering something. “And you think you can help me spruce up my Christmas image among my neighbors?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Too late she realized she’d practically invited herself to help decorate his house. The satisfied gleam in Ben’s eyes told her he knew it, too. And he probably wouldn’t let her off the hook.
Not that she really wanted off anyway.
“But first, we have some ice skating to tackle. Come on, I was about to start heating our hot chocolate on the stove. Unless you’d like a tour of the place.” Ben had taken a few steps to his left, but then he turned so abruptly Julia ran into his chest.
“Oomph!” she grunted, her hands grabbing onto his biceps to steady herself.
Ben’s arms came around her waist, snugly wrapping her in his embrace.
Julia gazed up at him, the light from the intricate wrought iron chandelier turning his hair a burnished gold.
All of a sudden time stood still.
She watched his gaze drop to her mouth before slowly moving back up to meet hers.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a husky rasp that had intimate places on her body thrumming.
Ave María
, she was nowhere near okay.
More like confused.
Certainly turned on.
Not trusting her voice, Julia nodded. She licked her lips nervously. Ben’s gaze followed the motion, desire flaring in the depths of his eyes.
His head dipped. Paused. Waited for her reaction.
That pause, the gentlemanly action that told her he’d do nothing without her consent, pushed her over the edge of reason and into passion-fueled insanity.
Rising up on her booted toes, Julia slid one hand behind his neck. Her fingers dug into the cropped hair along his nape, urging him to continue.
Ben did her bidding with a muffled groan.
His lips covered hers in a heated kiss. His hands moved from her waist to her hips at the same time the tip of his tongue laved her lower lip. She opened for him, catching a faint taste of mint as he deepened the kiss.
His woodsy, earthy scent intoxicated her brain and she pressed closer, until nothing separated them. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Suddenly the kiss softened. Ben eased back, nipping at her mouth and jawline with tiny pecks and little bites, then moving to press a moist kiss against the column of her throat.
“I’m afraid if we don’t stop, we might not get to your bucket list item,” he whispered in her ear.
“You’re doing a fabulous job at distracting me from your ice-skating challenge,” she answered.
A chuckle rumbled through his chest and into hers, drawing an answering smile from her.
“So, about that tour?” Ben asked.
Linking her fingers with his, Julia leaned back and held their arms out at their sides. “I’m thinking that might not be a good idea. We may get distracted again and wind up swapping one adventure for another. One we’re probably not ready for yet.”
A playful grin curved the corners of his mouth as they eyed each other for several moments. Attraction crackled in the air between them. She was oh so tempted to throw caution to the wind. And yet . . .
Ben must have sensed her hesitation because he tossed her a quick wink before tugging her toward the left part of the first floor. “Come on. Our hot chocolate isn’t going to heat itself. We have a mission to accomplish tonight.”
As she followed him through his gorgeous home into a gourmet kitchen with marble and onyx counters and professional-quality appliances her mami would have loved to cook with, Julia couldn’t help wondering when “make out with a Major League All-Star” had been added to her bucket list.
Because if you asked her right now, that wish had leapfrogged everything else to make it number one.
* * *
“Does that feel tight enough?” Ben adjusted the black buckle straps on Julia’s rental hockey skates.
Kneeling down on the sidewalk in front of her, he spanned the ankle part of the blue skate with his hand, jiggling back and forth lightly to ensure a snug fit.
What he really wanted to do was glide his hand up the length of her trim leg, imagining the softness of her skin under her skinny jeans. Capture her mouth with his again. Start back up where they’d left off in his foyer earlier.
He pulled his thoughts up short before his body betrayed him by reacting to the heated memory of having her in his arms. Instead he grasped her other foot, checking the tightness of the straps.
“Uh, yeah, it feels good.”
The hitch in Julia’s voice had him glancing up at her. He squinted under the glare of the lights off a nearby Christmas tree. It was one of multiple trees lining the length of the left side of the ice rink, separating it from part of the Christkindlmarket at the Park at Wrigley.
Despite the entire area being closed for their private skate time, the market booths remained illuminated, their red and white striped roof material glowing. Strands of twinkling white Christmas lights crisscrossed the air above them, matching the large white snowflakes perched at the top of each metal light pole in the market square and the sidewalk along Clark Street.
Holiday music drifted softly through hidden speakers, and off in the far corner of the rink, a young teen wearing a heavy jacket bearing the park’s logo leaned against the glass dasher boards wrapping the perimeter of the rectangular rink. Other than the teen and a night manager, Julia and Ben had the place to themselves.
Julia scanned the area, her expression filled with delight. Bundled up in a navy wool coat and leather gloves, a red knit beanie cap keeping her head and the top of her ears warm, she looked more like a cute snow bunny than an island girl.
“When you said ‘private skate’ I guess it didn’t register that you’d rent the entire facility,” she said.
Ben lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s easier this way. Things can get a little precarious when you’re swarmed with fans in the middle of the ice.”
“Ahh, I see,” she murmured. “Sometimes I catch myself forgetting who you are.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Cubs superstar and fan favorite. The MLB’s golden child. New face of the network.”
“You say all that like it’s a curse.”
“No, but it is
a reality.” Her forehead creased, her brows drawing together like she was struggling to make sense of something. “Yours anyway.”
She shook her head as if to clear it, then turned to gaze out over the rink.
Ben rose from his haunches, his left knee cracking as he moved to sit next to her on the wood-slatted bench.
Something about the way Julia emphasized “yours,” like she needed to differentiate her reality from his, bothered him.
As if his connection to the sport he loved was a negative in her mind.
The idea was preposterous.
Sure, he’d noticed her reticence to talk about her brothers’ involvement with baseball, but he’d attributed it to her desire for privacy. Not any ill-will toward the game itself or the lifestyle being linked to it required.
Baseball had been his connection to every semblance of family he’d ever had. The only problem he saw with that was his inability to figure out how to replace it now that he’d been forced out.
But a negative? Never.
“So let me ask you this,” he ventured, trying to wrap his head around the idea that for the first time in his adult life, his status as a big-time player could be a deterrent to something, someone, he wanted. “Is my baseball career or my ties to the game a problem for you?”
Julia’s eyes fluttered closed as her chest rose and fell on a heavy sigh.
Ben’s pulse blipped, skipping a couple beats. Her reaction did not bode well for him.
“Not a problem, so much as a . . . a deal breaker,” she finally answered.
He sucked in a sharp breath like she’d drop-kicked him in the gut.
Several seconds of stunned silence passed while her words sunk in. His mind rolled over them, considering. “Wow, I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t expecting that.”
She swiveled to face him, her gloved hand covering his on the bench between them. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Ha!” The harsh laugh burst from his throat.
“It’s true!”
“Come on,” he said, torn between laughing at the irony or cursing at his rotten luck. “Why does this sound like a line from a bad Dear John letter?”
“Look, you’re a great guy—”
“Aw, man!” Ben let his head fall back as he sent his plea to the heavens. “Not the dreaded ‘nice guy’ description? This just gets better and better!”
“Stoooop.” Julia drew out the word, squeezing his hand to get his attention. “You know what I mean.”
Sure he knew what she meant. He was getting the brush-off. Him. People
magazine’s sexiest MLB player of the year, not that he ever threw that designation around. The guys had had a field day with that one in the locker room. Jokes and pranks for weeks on end.
His teammates had known he could handle the ribbing. They also knew that when he had his sights set on accomplishing something, he gave everything he had to see it come to fruition. He studied film. Read scouting reports. Learned about the players on the opposing team. And when it was time to step onto the field, his entire focus honed in on that one person at the plate.
Over the past few weeks he’d been doing everything possible to get to know all he could about Julia. Only his efforts this time weren’t about winning a game.
No, this time, the outcome felt bigger. More important.
Before he could figure out how to convince Julia to give him—give them—a chance, he had to know what stood in his way.
“Fine,” he said on a huff of breath. “So, I’m a nice guy, but . . .”
He let his words trail off. Brows raised in question, he looked at Julia.
The streetlamps and string lights left her face in partial shadow, while they reflected in her dark eyes.
“But my life has been consumed with baseball for years. In my family, our schedules revolved around my brothers’ practice, games, tournaments, team gatherings. Even my quinceañera
party got pushed back a month because every weekend in July there was something baseball-related on the calendar.”
He, on the other hand, had relished spending his August birthday with his teammates as summer league wound down before school started. It beat the low-key one candle stuck in a cupcake celebration with his parents. If one of them even remembered to stop by a bakery on their way home from their research labs on campus.
“For the first time in my life, I’m missing winter ball league in Puerto Rico,” Julia went on, her voice raw with conviction. “And honestly, it’s a relief. Most days anyway. Then one of my brothers, Ángel or Martín, sends a text with their game highlights and I feel bad that I wasn’t there to cheer them on. But the thing is, I doubt they’ve ever wondered what I might want or need for them to cheer for me about. Coming here to Chicago, it’s a risk. It’s a big leap of faith in myself. For myself.”
“I know. You’ve shared that with me,” Ben said, wanting her to see that he understood her drive. Hell, he respected it. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. This fund-raiser will be the best one yet. And you’ll be turning down offers for you to plan other events around the city.”
Julia’s lips curved in a sad smile, a pained expression creasing her beautiful face.
“Gracias
,” she murmured. “You’re confirming my ‘great guy’ opinion.”
Ben scowled.
“The thing is,” she said, “I’ve always stayed away from getting involved with a ballplayer . . . at first because my brothers would have beaten up anyone who even looked my way. Later, as I grew older, because I saw girlfriends hurt by guys who moved up the ranks. Wait, I know what you’re going to say—”
She held up a hand to stall the argument he was primed to give. There was nothing he could do about how other men had treated her friends. He could only be responsible for his own actions.
“But mostly,” Julia went on, “because I know how consuming the game can be. Honestly, I don’t know if I want that to be a part of my life anymore. As much as I love the game, too.”
Regret tightened Ben’s chest. God, he’d do anything to get back in the game, and here she was shrugging off any attachment to it.
His only saving grace was the love she readily admitted to having for the sport. It was something the two of them shared.
That affinity, plus the commitment to her loved ones, her dedication to the kids at the youth center, and her determination to succeed at her job were a large part of what attracted him to her.
He shared those same traits, giving them more in common than simply baseball. Or the mutual attraction he felt sparking between them.
Maybe he wasn’t sure where things were headed with her, but he sure as hell wanted to find out.
As far as he was concerned, the only reality that mattered right now was one involving her and him. Enjoying themselves and getting to know each other better.
If she held any reservations about being with him, he aimed to dispel them, starting tonight.
Pushing himself to a wobbly stand in his skates, Ben flashed her his most convincing grin. “How about if we agree to concentrate on having some fun. No expectations. Just two people who enjoy hanging out.”
Julia gazed up at him intently, as if gauging his veracity. Slowly the stressed expression on her face faded, replaced by a dawning ease.
“I’d like that,” she answered.
A smile tugged up the corners of her full lips, loosening the knot of disappointment her earlier admission had gnarled in his chest.
“Good. You ready to wow me with your skating skills?” he asked, because as far as he was concerned, pretty much everything else about her wowed him already.