“Nothing to worry about. She came over to talk to me, that’s it.”
Justin makes a satisfied noise before he tells me goodbye and hangs up the phone.
Before I think better of it, I open my phone and find the website I know has the pictures I’m looking for. The second the images load, I close my eyes, regretting ever going to that game. The pictures look like we’re dating, her hand on my knee, me smiling in her direction and the loving look in her eyes. It’s naïve of me to think that Harper won’t see these, and that breaks me a little.
I want her. There is something about her that draws me in, like a moth to a flame, and now with these pictures out in the world? Convincing her that we’re meant to be will be a whole lot harder.
On my way to the stadium, I stop at a local coffee shop that’s close to the gym. My eyes automatically scan the area, hoping to see a glimpse of Harper while I’m here, hoping I can explain everything, but she’s not here.
“Can I help you?” the barista calls, shaking me out of my own head. I give her my order, pay, and then wait off to the side.
“Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here.” I turn to find Angela standing to my left, her eyes scanning from my chest to my eyes and back again. “I didn’t know you came here for coffee.”
“I don’t. Not normally,” I admit, wanting the barista to make my coffee faster so I can get the hell out of here.
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by…” Her fingers trace up my arm in a move that I know is meant for me to fall at her feet, but it only makes me move away from her touch.
“Look, Angela, I’m really flattered that you’re interested, but the feeling is not mutual, okay?” I expect a confused look, I expect maybe some flicker of anger behind those green eyes but what I get is a million-dollar smile.
“Sure thing, handsome. Keep telling yourself that.” She winks, her fingers teasing over my skin once more before she struts past me and out the front door. It’s not until my name is called and I take my coffee from the girl behind the counter that I realize Angela never got a drink.
I shake the nagging thought that’s rolling around in my head and head back out to my truck. Why is it that the one girl I can’t stop thinking about wants nothing to do with me, but the one girl I want to leave me the hell alone keeps showing up like she has a tracking device hidden in my clothes? If I were ten years younger, I would have jumped at the chance to bag a girl like Angela. She’s beautiful in the obvious sense, the way she does her hair all the way down to the way her nails match her outfit. It’s all calculated, contrived, and assembled accordingly and although some men might like that, I have a penchant for yoga pants and T-shirts.
It’s been a week since the bar, a week of knowing Harper is out there, denying her feelings when I can see them clear as day when we’re together. Her mouth tells me to leave her alone but when I see that lust burning behind those gorgeous eyes of hers, I know I need to keep going. Do I crowd her? No. If I thought for one second that she really wanted me to leave her alone, I would. I’m not a stalker. But I know that look in her eye, I know it because it’s the same one that I get whenever I think about her, whenever I’m near her and honestly, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman and a part of me is petrified.
As I start my truck, turning onto the road and driving toward the stadium, my phone rings. It’s Will.
“Are you on your way?” he asks, an edge to his voice that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to prick up.
“Yeah, why?”
“Coach is on a rampage. T.J. is talking shit; you know the normal stuff. Just thought I would warn you, so you hurry your ass up.”
Coach being on a tear is nothing new. It’s game day, it’s something to be expected. But the T.J. thing. That is new.
“What the fuck does T.J. have to say, the guy just got called up from the minors.” He’s been up for about a week and the second I met him, I knew he was going to be trouble. The boy—because that’s what he is, a fucking boy—is more concerned with taking my job than actually improving his own.
“The usual. Telling people you’re a has-been, washed up and ready to be replaced.”
The groan that leaves my chest is loud and heavy. I’m getting way too old for this high school shit.
“Don’t listen to him, Anderson, you know he’s full of crap.”
That’s an understatement. The only reason he was brought up was because Lopez got hurt and needs surgery on his knee. Without that, he’d still be rotting in Triple-A, wondering when he was going to be brought up to The Show.
“Thanks for the warning.” Sarcasm drips from every word, and from the way Will laughs on the other end, I know he got the message.
“See you soon!” he yells before hanging up and I take a big swig of my coffee. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
10
Harper
“Dad?” I ask, entering his office and shutting the door behind me. He’s been in here all night and I wanted to watch the Hawks game with him, but he never came out. Not even when Mom called that dinner was ready.
“I told your mother that I was busy and not to be disturbed,” he
