Layne
BEFORE MANDY AND Gracie wake up, I decide to return the voice message I got from Isaac last night while I was with Bryant.
The phone rings twice before Isaac’s deep voice answers.
“Security.”
“Hi, Isaac. This is Layne Scott from room 427 returning your call.”
“Yes. Ms. Scott. Thanks for calling back. I wanted to let you know what we found out about your visitor.”
“Oh good. I appreciate you l-l-looking into it,” I stammer.
“It seems this man paid one of the housekeepers to give up your room number. She said he already knew your name and you were here as a guest to Mr. Nash. We’ve had all of the front desk staff view the video from the night he came to your room, and none of them recognize him as a guest here.”
I take a deep breath, thinking it was probably some reporter trying to get the inside scoop.
“We called a meeting with all of housekeeping and reminded them of our policies on giving out information on our guests. The woman who divulged your room number to this man has been let go. It will not happen again.”
“Thank you, Isaac. I really appreciate your help with this. I would also request this information stay between us. I do not want to distract Bryant right now.”
He chuckles before responding. “I gathered that when you told him I was helping you address a clean towel issue, even though his eyes were glaring holes into my name tag, which says head of security.”
“He hasn’t mentioned it, and if he does, I won’t lie to him, but I didn’t want him to lose focus right now.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
“Thanks again, Isaac. Please let me know if anything changes.”
Hanging up the phone, I turn around and find Mandy standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Wanna explain that phone call to me?” she demands.
So I do. I explain the whole situation, and when I’m done, I sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to rip into me about not telling Bryant.
“I agree,” she responds.
“Wait, what? You agree? You’re not gonna yell at me for keeping it from him?”
“Nope. You said it yourself, the hotel is on top of it, no damage done, and the boys need to be focusing on their game right now. Promise me you won’t go anywhere alone.”
“Done. Now let’s get out there and order some breakfast. I’m starving.”
OVER THE NEXT few hours, we take Gracie down to the pool and let her play for a bit. Mandy and I kick it by the pool, her filling me in on all the crazy things Conor managed to do to her the other night. He hadn’t been lying when he told Bryant he knew the rule. Mandy said he made her keep her hands and mouth to herself.
He, on the other hand, did not keep his hands and mouth to himself.
A couple of hours before we are to head to the stadium, I gather Gracie up and head back to the room so we can all rest and then get ready for tonight’s game.
It’s hard to believe these last few games will be the last games I ever get to watch Bryant play in. It makes me sad because I’ve always loved to watch him play, but it also makes me happy he’ll be able to retire at the top of his game. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
After a quick nap and showers all around, we head to the parking garage to meet Stanley for our early ride to the stadium. As we step out of the elevator, a woman and man are getting into a car parked in front of ours, closing the door behind them.
“Why is Abbie’s mom here?” Gracie asks, scrunching up her face. “I hope Abbie isn’t here too.”
“Oh, honey, she must have just looked like her. Why would she be in New York City?” I don’t mention she’s not allowed to leave Colorado with Abbie because that’s a little more information than Gracie needs.
Gracie shrugs and climbs into the back seat when Stanley opens the door for her, settling in the middle before pulling the seat belt down from the hook in her booster seat and clicking it in place.
The drive is longer than usual because of the traffic, and by the time we make it to our seats, the stadium is alive and booming.
I see the relief on Bryant’s face when he sees us, Gracie waving at him and Conor like crazy. They both wave back quickly and return their attention to warming up.
Once the game is underway, Mandy flags down the guy with hot peanuts and buys everybody a bag. It takes less than three minutes for Gracie to jump up and spill hers everywhere, and we all end up sharing anyway.
With the score tied at zero in the top of the fifth inning, Gracie starts complaining she needs to use the restroom, so we pick up our trash and head for the bathrooms. Mandy decides peanuts were not enough and stops at the concession stand on the way back to our seats to grab nachos and a beer. By the time we get back to our seats, the score is one to zero and our boys are down by one.
Over an hour later, everybody in the stadium is on their feet. Top of the ninth inning, score tied two to two, two outs.
Chappman is up to bat, with Garner on second.
First pitch, Chappman drops a hit between short and left field. Hernandez scoops it up and hurls it at Bryant. It almost happens in slow motion. I watch as Garner drops his shoulder and plows into Bryant as the ball reaches his glove. When they hit the ground, a mess of limbs and a cloud of dust, the ump looks down at Bryant’s glove and throws his arm down signaling the runner is out, and the stadium goes wild. Conor trots over to the carnage and stops by the ump.
When Garner gets up and starts dusting himself off, but Bryant doesn’t move, my heart drops into my toes. Garner must say something shitty because Conor starts yelling at Garner and one of the other players grabs hold of him and drags him away from the scene. When Garner turns to walk back to his dugout, he has a smirk on his face. That bastard dropped him on purpose.
The coach and trainer run out onto the field as the ump calls a time out. Bryant is lying still, one of his legs is bent at the knee with his foot on the ground, and it’s swaying back and forth. I can see his chest rising and falling, and his left hand is clenched in a fist. It’s then I notice he’s writhing in pain but isn’t moving his right arm at all.
His shoulder is toast.
I watch in horror as the trainer pulls a huge strap out of the dugout and helps Bryant to a sitting position before wrapping the strap around him to hold his arm and shoulder up. Bryant’s face is contorted in pain, and I want to run down on the field and make sure he is okay. It kills me I can’t get to him.
When he stands up and walks back to the dugout, his eyes meet mine and I see the defeat in them. He’s heartbroken he’s going to miss the end of this game.
Once he disappears into the dugout, I pull my phone from my pocket and text him, not knowing whether he has his phone in the dugout or not. I need him to know how proud of him I am.
Me: Great game, baby. That was one hell of a hit you took, but you got him and now your boys are gonna stomp their ass.
I try like hell to stop the tears that threaten to fall, but I can’t, and once they break loose, I give up. Mandy grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, and Gracie asks me if Bryant is going to be okay.
“I’m sure he will be, honey, but his shoulder is probably going to hurt for a while,” I tell her honestly.
All they need is one run and this game is over. Just one run.
When my phone buzzes seconds later, I almost drop it trying to get it open.
Bryant: It’s Conor. He’s in a lot of pain but refusing to leave until the game is over. He said to tell you he’s okay, but he’s not. Stubborn bastard.
Me: Make them regret what Garner did to him, Conor.
Bryant: On it. This team is LIT up.
Me: Tell them to focus.
Bryant: Yes, ma’am.
I place my phone back in my pocket and return my attention to Harper who steps up to the plate.
The entire stadium is alive with electricity, and I can feel the roar of the crowd in my chest. Sutton releases the pitch, Harper swings.
CRACK!
The ball flies high over center field, dropping a few feet before the back wall. Andrada scoops it up and hurls it toward second base just as Harper’s cleat hits second, rounding for third.
Harper makes it to third on a slide, which brings Conor up to bat.
Third highest hitting home run hitter in the league.
He takes a couple of practice swings, and there is nothing joking about his posture. Conor may be the biggest goofball I know, but right now, his eyes are murderous, and if the clench in his jaw is any indication, he’s pissed.
Stepping into the batter’s box, he holds his weight on his back foot, ready to strike. Sutton cuts his eyes to Harper on third, back to his catcher, rears back, and releases.
Conor swings. Strike one.
Mandy’s voice makes me jump. I hadn’t realized she’d moved over so close to me. “Goddammit, he’s hot. Remind me again why I don’t watch baseball?”
I shake my head and laugh, eyes still trained on Conor.
The next pitch is wild, and although Harper might have been able to make it home, it’s not worth the risk at this point.
Conor once again takes a few practice swings outside the batter’s box, and I watch him take a deep breath before he steps back up.
Once again, Sutton checks Harper on third and watches for his catcher’s sign before rearing back and releasing.
CRACK!
Conor must know it’s out of here, because the moment the ball leaves his bat, his hands are in the air as he runs toward first.
Harper hits home as Conor’s ball hits the stands.
The stadium erupts.
The Colorado Smoke won the World Series!
We’re all screaming and crying in celebration, and we rush the fence when we see Conor rush into the dugout to help Bryant out. Everyone is jumping up and down except Bryant, but the smile on his face and the tears rolling down his cheeks is all I need to see to know he’s going to be okay. His dream has come true.
When he sees us at the fence, he comes over and reaches his good arm up to me. I grab his hand through the fence and let the tears fall.
“I’m so proud of you!” I scream over the roar of the crowd.
He mouths “thank you” and winks before pulling his hand back as Conor and Harper lift him up on their shoulders, as gentle as possible, and walk back out onto the field with him.
Knowing Bryant will need to be seen by the team doctor and it could take a while, I ask Mandy if she’ll take Gracie back to the hotel so I can wait and make sure Bryant is okay. Walking them to the VIP exit takes forever because of all the people trying to leave. By the time I get them situated with Stanley and head back down to the field, things seem to be calming down.
I see a woman at the fence talking to Conor, who looks uncomfortable and is shaking his head no. When I find Bryant’s face in the crowd, he’s glaring at the woman. When Conor turns away from her and walks back over to Bryant, the woman turns the opposite direction of me and stomps away. Must be a reporter. He’s got to have had enough of them tonight. They’re everywhere.
When I make it down to the field, Bryant points toward a part of the fence they’ve opened up and we both walk in that direction. The minute he’s close enough, I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head gently on his chest. He wraps his good arm around me, pulling me closer.
When his teammates start whooping, he pulls back from me long enough to flip them off before leaning down and placing a searing kiss to my lips.
“Is it weird I missed you today?” he asks with a huge smile.
“Stop trying to distract me from the fact that you need to see a doctor,” I scold him, but return his playful smile.
“It’s dislocated. I’ll head back to the training room here in a bit and let them reset it,” he says like it’s no big deal. “Where are Mandy and Gracie?”
“I sent them back to the hotel. I didn’t know how long you’d be here with the injury, and I wanted to check on you. Stanley said he would come back to get us when we’re ready.”
“Awww, you were worried.”
“Whatever,” I joke back, rolling my eyes.
“I’m gonna be here a while, baby. As you can see, this place is still alive with chaos. We have interviews to do, an after-meeting with the general manager, and I still have to meet with the doc. Why don’t I meet you back at the hotel?”
I lift up on my toes and kiss him one more time. “If you’re sure you don’t need me to stick around, I’ll take off. If it’s late, text me, I’ll sneak over to see you once Gracie is asleep.” He reaches his hand around my waist and pulls me to him, kissing me like his life depends on it.
When the guys start whooping and hollering again, he laughs against my lips before pulling back and kissing my forehead.
“I’ll see you in a little while,” he replies.
“Bye, hotshot.” Giving him a playful wink, I head up the stairs, texting Stanley that I’m ready and to come get me when he can. He texts back a few minutes later saying they are still in the parking lot because they got blocked in by the “dumbasses that can’t drive.” His words, not mine. It’s only been twenty minutes since they left, so I had assumed they hadn’t gotten far. When I step out of the VIP exit, I can see the big SUV in the mass of tiny cars. As I head that way, Stanley steps up on the side of the vehicle, waving his hand for me to find him. When I wave back, he disappears back inside.
Mandy throws the door open as I approach and I can see Gracie is already fast asleep beside her. I figured she wouldn’t last long with the excitement of this evening’s game.
When we finally make it to the hotel more than an hour later, we are all exhausted. We get Gracie settled into bed, and I pour Mandy and me each a glass of wine.
We’re curled up on the couch enjoying the quiet after so many hours in a rowdy stadium. The quiet is definitely welcome.
“So, how’d the date go last night? We never really had a chance to talk about it with the munchkin around all day.”
“It was good. We did sightseeing and hung out.”
“And how was dinner?” she asks, trying to get more out of me.
“Dinner was interesting,” I chuckle.
“Why? What happened?” she asks with enthusiasm, making me roll my eyes.
“He had his room set up to look like a five-star restaurant dining experience, with a waiter and wine in an ice bucket, and then we had New York City’s finest pizza,” I explain. “And it was perfect.”
Mandy stares at me for a moment without a word, smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I blurt out.
“You’re glowing.”
“I am not. Shut up.” I laugh out.
“No really, Layne,” she says seriously. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you this happy.”
She’s probably right. I wasn’t unhappy before Bryant came into my life. I was comfortable. I love my bar. I have an amazing kid who is the light of my life and a couple of amazing friends. I have a great relationship with Gracie’s dad, and he’s an amazing father.
But I’ve been going through the motions for so long I hadn’t realized how much life I was missing out on.
Just a few months of having Bryant in my life, as a friend or otherwise, has shown me that.
I can’t help the stupid grin that takes over my face when I answer her in complete honesty. “I don’t remember the last time I was this happy.”
We continue to catch each other up on what’s been going on with us lately. We really haven’t had time to chat much in the past few weeks. We chat about work and how Gracie is still trying to decide if she wants to play football or not. Mandy starts talking about how cool she thinks Conor is, but her phone chimes and her face lights up.
“It’s Conor,” she squeaks. She reads the message and her eyes shoot to mine. “Um, I’m gonna go shower and freshen up.”
“Why? It’s almost eleven at night.”
The smirk on her face makes me laugh. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Go get ready for Conor.”
She squeaks again as she jumps off the couch, hugs me, and makes a run for the bathroom.
Checking my phone, I’m starting to worry since I haven’t heard from Bryant yet.
Me: How you doing? The doc get you fixed up?
I put my phone down on the couch and go to pour myself another glass of wine. Two is my limit, and I’ll probably need it tonight to help me sleep since my adrenaline was out of control earlier.
When I get back to the couch, my phone is lit up.
Bryant: I’m still with the doc. He reset my shoulder, which hurt like hell. I’ll have Stanley come get me when I’m done. Please don’t wait up to see me. It’s going to be a late night.
Seeing how it’s now after eleven, it’s already late. I’m used to late nights though considering I run a bar.
Me: Text me when you get back to your room anyway so I know you made it back okay. I’ll try to stay awake as long as I can. :)
The bubbles start and stop several times, but fifteen minutes later, I still haven’t received a response.
I’m finishing off my second glass of wine when Mandy bounces into the living room, dressed in a sexy silk robe and heels.
“How does this look? Do I look desperate?” she asks, her hair is piled in a loose bun on top of her head, making her seem casual, but her face is done up like she’s going out clubbing.
“You look beautiful, not desperate at all. Conor is gonna choke on his own tongue when he sees you.”
“That’s the idea,” she replies, her eyebrows waggling up and down. “Call me if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll probably crash with Conor tonight.”
“No worries. Bryant said not to wait up for him because he’s still with the doctor. I’m actually getting pretty tired, so I’ll probably go to bed in a little bit. Enjoy your night, girl.”
She hugs me before grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge and heading to Conor’s room.
I go in to check on Gracie. She’s out like a light. I climb into bed and pull my Kindle from the nightstand. Getting lost in a book is always a good way to wind down. Within minutes I’m dozing off, so it’s time to turn in.
After brushing my teeth and taking my makeup off, it’s after midnight. I check my phone one more time before plugging it in to see if Bryant has texted.
Nothing.
Me: Hey. I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to turn in. I hope you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?
I plug it in and set it next to me on the nightstand.
REACHING MY HAND up to my face, I scratch at the tickle on my nose.
Giggle.
I don’t open my eyes because I know this game. It’s been a long time since she’s done it, but it used to be her way of waking me up.
The tickle to my nose is back, and I once again scratch at it, this time letting out a small snort.
Giggle.
When the third tickle hits my nose, I grab her arm quickly and pull her to me, tickling her sides and laughing loudly.
“Mama!” she squeals, followed by the belly laughs I love so much.
“When are you gonna learn I always win this game?”
She laughs with abandon, and I love when our mornings start out this way. Tickles and hugs.
Knowing I don’t have many years left of this before she’s a teenager and it’s not a cool thing to do anymore, I soak in every minute.
We talk about the game, and Gracie asks if Bryant’s arm is going to be okay. I explain to her what a dislocation is and how the doctor had to put it back in, and she scrunches up her face in the cute way she does.
“Can we have breakfast? I’m starving,” she asks as her tummy growls loudly, causing us both to laugh.
“Yeah, baby. Let me throw my hair up and brush my teeth and we’ll run to the café downstairs and get something. Put some clothes on and brush your hair.”
She bounces off the bed and heads for the dresser where her clothes are.
Unplugging my phone, I take it into the bathroom with me. I’m becoming a little concerned about the fact that he still hasn’t texted me back yet. I hope he’s okay.
I put my hair up, throw on a pair of jeans and a bra, and head out to the living room where Gracie has thrown herself onto the couch for cartoons. Looking toward the door between our rooms, I decide to peek in on him and see if he’s okay.
When I twist the knob, I’m surprised to find it locked. He hasn’t locked his side of the door the whole time we’ve been here.
I tap the door lightly, not wanting to wake him if he’s still asleep. It’s only a little after eight in the morning, and I know he was up late last night. When my tapping gets no response, I chalk it up to his late night.
“Come on, Gracie. Let’s go eat,” I holler in the direction of the living room.
Gracie bounces over to me, ready for pancakes and bacon.
Breakfast is amazing, and I grab a breakfast burrito and coffee for Bryant. Even if he’s still asleep, I’ll hold onto it until he wakes up. He can always pop it in the microwave and reheat it.
Gracie is chattering a million miles a minute about how excited she is to fly on a plane again tomorrow and to be able to tell all her friends about how much fun she had at the World Series. When the elevator stops and we step out onto our floor, Gracie is still listing off all the fun things she’s done here when she stops walking. When I turn my attention to her, I find her face scrunched up in disapproval, looking past me down the hall.
What I find makes a knot form in my stomach.
There is a woman standing in the hallway, right in front of Bryant’s open door. She has her shoes in her hand, her hair is a mess and she’s talking to someone inside the room. I assume it’s Bryant because that’s his room, but I can’t see him.
“I told you I saw Abbie’s mom,” Gracie says as she starts walking again.
Holy shit. It is her. What the hell is she doing here?
As we get closer, I hear Bryant’s gruff morning voice. “I don’t know, but you need to go.”
She must hear us coming down the hall because her attention turns to me and, oddly, she doesn’t look surprised to see me. She smirks, says something to Bryant, and walks toward us, the door closes at her departure.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Everything about this woman makes me want to rip her fake hair out.
“Visiting a friend,” she replies with another smirk, before walking past us and continuing down the hall.
As I watch her walk away, it dawns on me she is the woman I saw Conor talking to at the field last night. The one Bryant did not look happy to see. The one who was wearing that same dress. Last night. I watch her walk away, her walk of shame apparent.
What the hell is going on?
Did she just leave Bryant’s room?
My heart is beating a mile a minute when I open our door. I usher Gracie inside and shut it quietly behind us. I get her settled in front of the TV with cartoons and make my way into the bathroom for a minute to myself.
Did I really just witness that heinous bitch leaving Bryant’s room after he hadn’t responded to any of my texts since last night? Is she why he hadn’t responded?
How does he even know her?
I need to think about how to handle this. I could act like I didn’t see anything and see how he acts today, if I even see him. Looking at my phone, I realize he’s still radio silent and I know he’s awake.
I could go bang on his door and ask him what the hell is going on, but I don’t want to deal with this in front of Gracie.
I could call another hotel and go there until we can get a flight home, and in the back of my mind, that’s exactly what I want to do.
Run.
Because I don’t want to hear him tell me he’d been wrong and isn’t ready for a relationship. I mean, we aren’t in a relationship. We’re dating, so maybe I read more into what was going on between us than there really was. Maybe his idea of dating is non-committal. Probably something we should have discussed before I put my heart into this.
I guess I trusted that when he said he wanted to date me that he meant he wouldn’t be bringing girls back to his room, especially not with me right next door.
Maybe I’m the fool here.
I shout to Gracie that I’m going to jump in the shower and not to open the door for anyone. Mandy has a key so she can get in on her own.
The hot water on my skin is cathartic. I let it wash the tension out of my neck and shoulders before washing my hair and body. I take my time, knowing once I leave this bathroom, I have to find out what is going on.
As the water shuts off, I hear my phone chime. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the shower and grab a towel. I also take my time drying off and wrapping one towel around my hair and one around my body. My phone chimes again, signaling another text.
Deep breath.
Pulling the phone off the vanity, I open the texts.
The first one is from Mandy.
Mandy: I’m grabbing breakfast and then heading back to our room. Do you or Little Bit want anything?
Me: We already ate. Thanks though. :)
The other is from Bryant.
Bryant: Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?
Maybe I can get a little info out of him before I have to face him. I know it’s a chickenshit move doing this over text, but I’m giving him a chance to explain.
Me: Fine. How’s the shoulder?
Bryant: Sore as hell. Stanley was kind enough to pour me into my bed last night after the doc gave me a pain killer that would knock out an elephant.
Me: What time did you get in last night?
Bryant: Can I come over? Texting you seems stupid when you’re right next door.
Gracie probably shouldn’t be witness to this discussion.
Me: I’ll come to you when Mandy gets here. We need to talk.
Bryant: Ooooookay. What’s wrong?
Me: We’ll talk when I get there.
Setting the phone down, I get dressed, dry my hair a little bit, and throw it up in a bun. I almost forego makeup all together, but I’m feeling a little bit self-conscious about the conversation we’re about to have, so I put some on to boost my confidence a little.
When I walk out into the living room, I’m greeted by a very “morning after” looking Mandy. Her hair looks like a rat’s nest and she’s got mascara running down one side of her face. Jesus, she looks like a hot mess. She’s also sitting on the floor in front of the TV, shoveling donut holes in her mouth like she’s starving to death.
When she sees me, her face breaks out into a big smile.
“Dude, did you even look in the mirror before you went downstairs to get those donuts?” I ask her with a cocked eyebrow.
She shakes her head no and continues to shove more donuts into her mouth.
“You’re a damn mess, girl.” I laugh out. Gracie laughs and runs her hand over Mandy’s hair to make it lay down a little, but it doesn’t work and it makes Gracie laugh more.
“I’m gonna get my brush for you, Aunt Mandy,” Gracie yells as she hops up and runs off to our room.
“Hey, I’m gonna run over and talk to Bryant. Can you watch her for a few minutes?” I ask her quickly.
“A little morning nookie for the broken hero, huh?”
“Hardly. I’m pretty sure I saw a woman leaving his room this morning,” I begin. “And get this, it was freaking Worthington’s ex-wife. You know, Garrett’s partner.”
“Why the hell would she be here?”
“No clue. But I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”
Mandy’s face takes on a serious mask. “Let me know if I need to go in there and rip his nuts off.”
Gracie struts back in carrying her brush and proceeds to try to rake it through the mess that is Mandy’s hair.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I tell them, neither paying attention to me over Mandy’s complaints of being bald soon.
I take a deep breath before knocking on our interior door, waiting for Bryant to answer. When I hear the bolt unlock, and he appears in front of me looking like hell warmed over, my heart drops a little.
How the hell would he even hook up with someone in this state? His arm and shoulder are wrapped in some sort of sling, which basically holds it against his body and wraps around his entire upper body.
“Come in,” he says awkwardly.
I take only a few steps in when he blurts out, “Are you mad about the article?”
When I find his face a mask of concern, I’m a little confused.
“What article?”
He regards me for a minute before responding again. “If it’s not the article, what’s wrong?”
“Tell me about the article first.”
He walks over to the end table and picks up the newspaper sitting there before returning to me and holding it out for me to take.
Front page of the paper is the announcement that the Smoke won the World Series with a big picture of the celebration on the field when the team had Bryant up on their shoulders. Why would I be upset about this?
Further down the page, there is a picture of Bryant kissing me on the field right before I left after the game. Under the picture is a paragraph, and tears come to my eyes as I read the words.
“After the game, Bryant “Slam” Nash was seen kissing his girlfriend, Layne Scott, who owns a sports bar in Colorado. Minutes later, Nash announced he would be retiring from baseball and has taken a job coaching at St. Marten’s High School in Denver.”
Wait, what?
“I was going to tell you last night but, like I said, Dr. Kaimal gave me a painkiller that knocked me on my butt and I had to have Stanley babysit me back to the hotel.”
I take a step back from him, his scent clouding my thoughts.
“Let me explain before you get upset,” he stammers out, causing my hand to fly up to stop him.
“Wait a minute,” I blurt. “You’re not going to coach for the Smoke?”
He shakes his head and takes a step to me.
“Why would you give up the opportunity to coach for the Smoke?” I whisper.
When he steps toward me, my first instinct is to step back from him. I still don’t know what the hell she was doing in his room. But why would he give up coaching for an MLB team to coach at a small private high school?
He reaches his good arm out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to him, pressing his lips gently to mine before lifting his hand to my face and cupping my cheek.
“We’ll talk about all of this later,” he starts. “Now tell me why you’re upset if it isn’t about the article.”
I look into his eyes for something that might show me guilt, but find nothing of the sort.
Taking a step away from him, I lean back against the arm of the couch and look up at him.
“Gracie and I went down to get breakfast this morning,” I begin. He raises an eyebrow when I pause, so I keep going.
“As we were coming back to the room, we saw a woman in the hallway, looking disheveled,” I continue, still no recognition on his face.
“Disheveled, as in, walk-of-shame style,” I blurt out. His eyes squint for a minute like he’s thinking about it. When his eyes widen for a split second, my heart drops.
“Wait,” he booms, holding up his good hand. “Did this woman happen to have on a red dress, holding a pair of dirty-ass hooker shoes and look like she crawled out of an alleyway?”
He does not look happy.
“That’d be her,” I croak out. “And she looked like she was leaving your room.”