Falling for Centerfield Page 7

If she would let him.

  Chapter 9

  Cole walked Harlow up to her hotel room. She didn’t want this afternoon to end. She couldn’t be sure how they would react around each other the next time she saw him. “Today was perfect, Cole. Thank you.”

  He picked up a still-damp strand of her hair and then released it, and that simple gesture sent shimmers through her body. “I’m glad you could come. I needed that.”

  “Me too.” She wanted to linger, wished there was a way to get him to come inside. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days at our dodgeball match.”

  “Oh yes, I’ll call you to arrange details.”

  “Great.”

  They stood together. Harlow didn’t know how to say goodbye. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, but they weren’t even necessarily on hugging terms. Up until today they’d had a distant professional relationship only. But he pulled her into his arms as naturally as if they’d done it their whole lives, and she melted into him. “This is nice.”

  “Mhmm. I agree. I don’t want to let you walk through that door.” His hands ran up and down her back.

  She found the courage to say what she was thinking. “What if it all changes tomorrow?”

  “I have that same irrational fear.”

  Relief filled her. “Then let’s make sure it doesn’t.”

  “Whoa, is this some ploy to get me to be easy on you at dodgeball, cause I’m gonna win, new hottie girl in my life or not.”

  She snorted. “New hottie girl?”

  “Well, yeah.” He grinned, then looked down into her face, eyes searching, asking. His gaze lingered on her lips then quirked up a brow.

  She stood up on her toes and lifted her chin, which made him grin. He was just too tall to make this simple. Before she could think another thought, his lips were over hers. And they were delicious to her. His towering frame, his thick arms around her, the solid pack of his chest, and his soft kisses. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tender regard obvious in the gentle searching, and she was lost, her responses sincere and full of yearning. She wanted more, begged that this be real, make it stay, make him real. The thoughts paraded around in her mind. She reached for him, hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. He responded immediately, pressing her tighter against him while his mouth explored hers, softly, insistent, pulling at her until she thought she might burn up on the spot.

  He separated, just a hair, his breath audible. “Wow. Bonfire’s a good name for you.” He linked his fingers with hers.

  She swallowed. “See you soon?”

  He nodded. “Count on it.” And then he waited, while she shut the door between them, like a lovesick teenager.

  Harlow leaned against her door for a long time. She was almost afraid to move. Could this be happening? She closed her eyes. Oh, I hope so. Her lips tingled, her shoulders tingled where he’d held her before stepping back. Goodness, her toes tingled. She wanted to open the door and run after him.

  She turned on a hot shower and laughed when she looked in the mirror and saw his sunglasses on her head. For sure they were going with her to dodgeball in a few days. Her squeal filled the bathroom, and she wiped the foggy mirror and put them on again. The press would go to town with that one. Cole’s signature glasses had a duplicate. And she would be wearing them.

  When she got out of the shower, she flipped open her laptop, ready to map out all the articles she owed her senior editor. She groaned. Before she could even open her inbox, she had to get started. So she clicked on her word processor and put in a solid three hours before her brain melted, and she needed a break. She pulled up email and her internet browser for a breather. Her notifications were set to ding whenever the associate presses picked up an article on the #BelltownSixPack or if they were mentioned on social media. There was always something going on with them. As soon as her email booted up, it scrolled and didn’t stop with one new notification ding after another. Something to do with the Cole Hunter workout video.

  “What is going on now?” She clicked on one of the emails and it linked to an Instagram post that had gone viral. And her stomach twisted. A girl, some model, posted a picture of her and Hunter in bathing suits. She was draped all over him. The caption read, “He has my number. Use it, Cole Hunter!” Harlow swiped left to see image after image of this girl and Cole, Cole by himself, Cole in a hot tub full of women.

  Harlow had no right to feel anything about this, but she couldn’t help it. All her angst and stress and hurt from college washed over her again. This means nothing. It’s a photo shoot. He does them all the time.

  From what she could tell, Cole had gone straight to a publicity photo shoot after he left her door. One of the girls in the shoot posted on Instagram. The shooting was for a health product, something to do with power lifting. The female model’s post was a serious breach of contract. They’d probably make the girl take down her video if they could. Harlow swiped through the images again and groaned. And then looked it up with a Google search.

  She felt panicked, her heart pounding. She tried to talk herself out of it. To laugh even, but she couldn’t find anything funny. The company had already released the video on their website since it had leaked out. She watched it over and over. Cole, glistening, muscles rippling everywhere while they showed flashes of him working out. Each curl, each lunge, the testosterone from the images raced her heart as much as it filled her with dread. Here she was again, starting to fall for an athlete, and not just any athlete. The images changed to Cole in a hot tub surrounded by women, one on each side especially, draped all over him.

  Then the stream of Instagram and Twitter posts about it were linked below the video clip. Harlow tried to put it in perspective, tried to respond rationally, but then she saw a post from the model again, another image, in Cole’s arms after the shoot with the caption, “He got my number! Use it, Big Dawg!”

  A stream of mean-girl responses followed. Harlow clicked away. She wanted to call Cole, but what would she say? All she wanted to know was if he still cared. Was he sincere and still looking forward to seeing her this week?

  But she couldn’t ask. She didn’t know him well enough to express her concern. And he’d think she was overreacting and maybe even a little psycho. She knew he didn’t even think about this kind of thing. It was part of the job. But to her, it was a lot of women all over a man who had just kissed her, just had intimate conversations about getting to know her better. And it brought back the whole situation with Devin all over again.

  Google just begged to be searched more. She shouldn’t have, but she typed in Cole Hunter. And the articles scrolled down. She moved past the huge hype from today and started reading the others. She didn’t know why, perhaps just to get it all out at once. If she was going to be hurt by all the women in his life, might as well experience one huge stab to the gut instead of a bunch of tiny incisions. And there were plenty. Most just of him caught dancing or at a gala, or with the other guys. She rarely saw him with the same girl more than a few times in a row. So he was a player. She knew that. And then she pulled up the articles about her and him. They had been pushed away as yesterday’s news after shirtless, weightlifting Cole had taken center stage.

  The press treated her story with Cole differently. Perhaps because they knew Harlow; she was a respected member of their crowd and not your typical groupie. But the underlying assumptions were still the same. Cole had swept into the life of another woman, and even though they showed promise of being an actual item, no one expected him to stay.

  Even Harlow didn’t expect him to stay. Her phone dinged. Aiysha. Have you seen Cole?

  The weightlifting videos?

  Yes!

  Can we video chat?

  Yes. Give me fifteen minutes.

  Her best friend would know how to divert a nonsensical emotional crisis.

  She put on her favorite leggings, a long, warm, sweatshirt and curled up on the hotel couch. This whole situation brought Devin too close to the surface. Before she could stop
them, memories flooded her mind.

  Devin’s swagger. He acknowledged half the room with a nod of his head and then strutted toward the back of their classroom in the corner to join the guys. They owned that back corner and girls always tried to sit near, but it was a man’s land, full of quiet jokes and an absolute shut-out of anything the teacher had to say. Harlow sat in the opposite corner, on the front row.

  Devin was headed back to his domain while Harlow checked him out for the hundredth time when suddenly his eyes had met hers. He stopped, winked, and made his way over to her.

  Her heart did a double beat just reliving the moment again. She closed her eyes. He was such a charmer. He sat down, gave her every ounce of his attention for the next forty-five minutes of class, and then secured her telephone number before he left.

  His attention, his praise. Everything about him seemed so sincere. And he said the best things. “I’ve fallen for the smartest girl at school.” “You make me crazy, Harlow.” “When can I see you again?”

  He texted her every hour or so throughout the day and into the next week. And started meeting her after her classes, bringing her drinks, or snacks, or lunch. She thought at first she was living in a romance novel dream. She started hanging out with him and the guys. They would have a different girl with them every time she saw them, but Devin seemed to prefer her. She loved this life, loved being on high-five terms with half the starting lineup on the football team. And she hated to admit, she loved most of all maybe even more than she loved Devin, the second jersey she would wear to the games, the seats he secured for her, and the one time he found her in the crowd from the field and saluted.

  The ding of an incoming video chat on her laptop made Harlow jump, she was so lost in the rush of the memory of new attraction. She squinted her eyes and clenched her fists. Devin was gone. And Cole, he was not Devin. At least she hoped not.

  She clicked to open the link and wanted to hug the beautiful brown face smiling back at her. “Thank you for coming, Aiysha.”

  “Oh honey, what’s he gone and done to you?”

  “Nothing to me.”

  Her friend raised an eyebrow, her lips puckering in a hilarious expression that screamed, “Yeah right.”

  “Well, we kissed. And I fell asleep with him on the couch.”

  “In here?”

  “No, out on his yacht.”

  “Oh glory be, honey, you’re living the dream.”

  “It’s Devin all over again.”

  Her eyes saddened. “You’ve given that man way too much of your happiness. It’s time to be well and done.”

  “I know. But it feels so much the same. They’re crazy alike.”

  “Can I come meet him tomorrow?”

  “How’d you know about tomorrow?”

  “Everyone knows about tomorrow. It’s the biggest gossip event of the year for those who follow this stuff.”

  “Would you come? I need someone to see sense and smack some into me.”

  “He might not be Devin.”

  “I know. I saw that hot tub moment with all the girls, and I freaked. He could easily be Devin. The desperate part of me wants to believe he was like Devin but now he’s changing ’cause I’m the first one to catch a more serious eye?”

  “Everyone wants to be the one to tame the player.”

  Harlow sighed. “I’m pathetic.”

  “No, I’m not saying he’s the player. He could be as sincere as you.” She held up a pint of ice cream. “Wish I was there.”

  “Praline and caramel.”

  “Do I know you or what? Though why you can’t just appreciate a good chocolate like a normal woman . . .”

  She laughed and watched Aiysha take a huge bite. “You do like it too, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Her wink made Harlow laugh. Aiysha probably liked it more than she did.

  Harlow said what she most wanted to ask. “So this hot tub scene could just be a business thing. The girl, the phone number, just hype, and this guy could be into me as much as I think he is?”

  Her long-time best friend hesitated. “Well, how are we to know his real intentions? He probably doesn’t even know. And I’m sure he doesn’t know you’re freaking out over here about it all.”

  She shook her head. “I hope not.”

  Then her phone dinged. “Ah! It’s him!” She slid open the text, hands shaking.

  Yours is the only number I’m calling.

  A relieved laugh escaped her mouth. She showed Aiysha who clucked. “That man’s got class.”

  She couldn’t help but razz him. I don’t know. She looked difficult to peel off.

  Hey now.

  I’m sorry.

  Wait.

  Her phone rang.

  She answered. “Hey.”

  “I have to know. Are you jealous?”

  “What?” She opened her mouth wide at Aiysha.

  “You are.” His self-satisfied gloat was almost visible through the phone.

  “Oh stop. I have my reasons.”

  He sent a picture of himself, smiling until he looked ridiculous. “She wanted me to sign something for her.”

  “Oh yeah? What did you sign?”

  He snorted. “Her foot.”

  “What, ok, OK, now I feel ridiculous.”

  “No, I love this. Somehow, I have made the impenetrable Harlow Ember jealous.”

  “All right already. I might not even be jealous. I’m certainly not anymore.”

  “Sure. I can tell by that irritated twitch in your voice.”

  “What twitch?”

  “You get this twitch.”

  “You’re gonna have to explain that. How can you hear a twitch?”

  “I just can, you’re doing it again.”

  She groaned. “Anyway, I feel foolish, but thanks. I’ve got no right to think anything, no claim on you—”

  “Let me finish for you, ’cause I got you, Harlow. I understand. Tell me if I’m right.” He cleared his throat. “But we said things today. I felt your lips . . . mmmmm . . . hold on, let me savor the memory.”

  Harlow laughed, thrilled and embarrassed at the same time.

  “And that means something. It felt like a betrayal, seeing you with other girls.”

  She was stunned. He totally got her.

  “Should I take your silence as agreement or are you mocking my overly assumptive confidence that assumes you care?”

  She cleared her throat. “No, you’re right, so right that I’m astonished. Thank you.”

  Aiysha blew her kisses and clicked away.

  “You’re welcome. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, should be talk dodgeball strategy?”

  “What? You can’t strategize with the opponent.”

  “Ugh, Harlow, you’re not really thinking you can beat me.”

  “Of course I am.” But she knew she couldn’t.

  “Well, ok, that’s cute, Sweetness. You can keep pretending that, but when the press isn’t around, let’s maybe work this out to have the greatest impact for the kids.”

  Her respect for him grew even more. How had she caught the eye of such an amazing person? But she’d thought Devin was amazing too. And she knew better than to totally trust a charmer. If he could charm her, he could charm the rest of the world, and she knew he had. Who didn’t love Cole Hunter? She wasn’t even sure she didn’t, and that scared her.

  Chapter 10

  Cole flexed his pecs and stretched his arms up over his head. The early hours in one of these centers for children were always the best. The kids were getting dropped off, bleary-eyed and unsure or confident and crazy. He liked all the moods. The volunteers and staff of the center were happy to see him. Offered water, a room to break in, and plenty of opportunity to learn about the different options that were available for him to donate money.

  Everyone started to gather. A bustling, smiling woman approached him. “Cole Hunter?”

  He nodded and held out a hand. “We’re ready. Thank you for letting us ind
ulge our competitive edge here at your center.”

  She fanned her face, seemed overly busy. “We are thanking you! Our donations have skyrocketed since your announcement. You’ve done amazing things already for us, for these kids.” She used a wilty tissue to wipe all over her face. “They would like to do something for you, so they made these cards.” She handed him a manila envelope stretched full.

  “Thank you.” He liked these notes sometimes. They were clever. Other times it was more like a forced writing assignment for the little ones and he felt for them. “I’ll read every one.”

  Her grin rounded her face even more and dimples appeared everywhere—her cheeks, her chin, crinkles around her eyes. She looked like one of those ladies he’d known as a kid that was great for hugs when you skinned your knee, all softness and warmth.

  “What was your name?”

  “Oh, Violet. Yes.” She checked her clipboard and then looked around again. “I don’t see . . . Harlow? Is it?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, Miss Violet. She’ll be here.”

  She sniffed. “When it’s time, we’ll get all the kids together, pick teams, and then you guys can begin.” She looked around again. “Are you expecting more press?”

  “Yes, of course, don’t worry. They’ll be here and we will do another plug to help fund the center.”

  Her eyes teared up suddenly. “I’m sorry. Thank you.” She waved at her face. “This just comes at the best time.” She stepped nearer and he edged away half a step. “See those kids against the wall?”

  He followed her gaze and sure enough, a group of what some would call trouble held up the wall with scowls and ripped clothes and messy hair.

  “We’re gonna start a free lunch and dinner program for the ones that just get dropped off all day without anything to eat.”

  He grimaced and nodded. That could have been me. “I’m happy to help. I’m open to help for other needs if they come up. Have someone email. You have my email.”

  She nodded, every part of her bouncing in happiness. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Hunter.”

  The kids were watching them, and he was itching to go mess around. So he excused himself and ran over. “Who wants to play catch?”