A part of me can’t believe she went to my game as sick as she was when she had Chicken Pox. Another part of me, the part that knows how damn stubborn she is has no trouble believing her. I can only shake my head.
I check my watch. Time flies, as they say, and the autograph line is finally dying down.
But not before hundreds of people came through here. Most with pets. The waiting room is packed. I know Angie's still mad at me but helping her today makes me feel good.
As the last customer leaves before lunch, I watch Angie breeze past me. I watch that ass sashay across the room and I'm hypnotized.
Suddenly I'm grateful to be sitting under a desk. Then Angie turns to face me. Uh-oh. I know that look, and it's not good. What did I do now? I've spent hours getting her new customers and signing footballs until my hand got all cramped up. "What?" Oh shit, this is probably about the receptionist. How could I be so stupid?
"You know what," Angie says as she crosses to one of those office chairs with the wheels, sits down, and then flies back across the room glaring at me the whole time until we're face to face.
I've dreamed about her half a dozen times since I moved to Phoenix. I thought I was done with all this. Right up until I saw her again. Wounded puppy in my arms, her eyes scanning me like she's never seen me before and like I'm coming home all at the same time.
I stand up and stretch out my hands and wrist from all the signing. And then she's on me, like colors on a beach ball.
"What are you really doing here, Jake?"
I grin. "What are you talking about? I’m signing autographs, Angie. I’m helping you out if you must know."
"Helping me? You ruined Puppy-Thon, tried to ruin Pirate Fest, and then, yes you volunteered to help me. And none of that answers the question. Why. Are. You. Here?"
Her gorgeous eyes get half a size bigger as frustration pulses through them. If anything it only makes her hotter. My gaze falls from those intense eyes to the curve of her neck, to the breasts I've seen in my dreams over and over again. They're amazing. Also, it looks like she started working out.
"Jake!"
"What now?" I ask, curling my lips into a smirk.
"Why are you here. Here in town. Here wherever I happen to be all the time? Why are you here, here? In St. Tropic?"
"Oh," I say, surprised that's really her question, "don't you ever read the internet? I got hurt. I'm back for rehab."
"And to massage his image," Mia chimes in from behind the desk. “He got cut from the team.”
Angie and I both shoot her a look.
Mia doesn't take the hint. "What? He's all over TMZ. Half-naked, all drunk, lots of women, a couple of legal citations, and two lawsuits."
"Thanks, Mia, that'll do." I say. Normally I don't give a shit what people think of me, but right now I'm actually a little ashamed of it all and I'm wilting under Angie's fiery gaze. Man, she's the firecracker I've been missing all this time.
Mia's right about all of the things I've done, but not once have I run into a woman like Angie. She has no idea the pull she still has over me.
"Oh my God," Mia exclaims triumphantly, her voice a full octave higher than before, "are you guys, like, exes or something?"
"Yes," I answer.
"No," Angie chimes in a fraction of a second later.
Angie's answer hits me like a sledgehammer. And I know it's not the time for it, I know she won't listen. But I can't hold it in any longer, not when I'm looking at the hurt in the face of the only woman I've ever loved. The woman I'm still in love with. The thought crushes me. It's something I've never admitted, not even to myself. And yet it's been there all along.
Angie crosses to leave, but I grab her gently by the arm. She turns, eyes shooting daggers into my soul. I have one last play.
"I tried to say goodbye." It's true.
She crosses her arms. "What stopped you, Jake? Because from where I'm standing, nobody's ever kept you from doing a single damn thing you wanted to do your whole fucking life. So if you wanted to say goodbye to me so badly, then why didn't you?"
"You're dad."
She pulls her arm out of my grip. She's still as strong as I remember. "That's a lie and we both know it, my dad always liked you."
Mia's eyes dart back and forth between us in rapt attention like she's watching a movie.
Angie might have pulled away. Again. But I'm not nearly done with this conversation. "He liked us dating, sure. But remember the night after we were together, when I was flying out to Phoenix to join the team? I drove out to your house. Only your dad must have gotten wind of it. He had his pickup truck, the green one. And he parked it there at the intersection of Maple and Vine. Right in the middle of the intersection, blocking all the traffic, not just me. He only got away with it..."
"Because of Baker being sheriff," she finishes my thought.
"That's right. Nobody crosses Baker. Not then and not now. So I stopped. Had no choice. Your dad might not have hated us dating, but he asked me right there in the middle of the street if I was willing to give up my entire pro career to keep seeing you."
Angie looks surprised. Whether she likes it or not, I can read her as well as she can read me. I know for a fact that she's never heard this side of the story before. At least she's listening.
"And?"
I run my fingers through my hair and shift my weight. "And, when he asked me, I hesitated. Angie,
