Heartthrob Read online

  Chloe and I exchange a look. I have no idea what my grandmother’s talking—oh hell. My grandfather’s name was Todd. Before I or my grandmother can share that fact, Louis arrives at the table with our lunch.

  “Miso-glazed duck with polenta and kumquat chutney,” he announces with authority as he sets a plate down in front of my grandmother. His sous chef places the same before Chloe and me. The presentation is photo worthy, the scent mouthwatering. “And candied sweet potatoes with ginger aioli for sharing.” He puts the large side dish in the center of the table. “I’ll expect a full report when finished. Bon Appetit.”

  “Thank you,” Chloe says.

  “Yes, thank you,” I say.

  We waste no time digging in. As usual, the food is delicious. Sitting on some prime real estate with an ocean view in Santa Monica, Royal is the hottest restaurant in Los Angeles. Celebrities, dignitaries, and a real prince or two have eaten here. Ethan’s worked hard and hired the right people to make it the success it is, and I’m damn proud of him.

  Grandmother puts her fork down. “I’m sorry you won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving.”

  I’d been wondering when she’d bring that up. “Me, too.”

  She shoots me a no-nonsense look. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be staying here.”

  “All right, I’m not sorry, but I will miss you.”

  “Pfftt.” She waves her hand in the air. “Do I look like a fool?”

  “What’s happening at Thanksgiving?” Chloe asks.

  “My parents, brothers, and grandmother are spending the week at our house in Hawaii.”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy. “And you’re not going because…?”

  “I’m starting PT and workouts with my trainer.” Normally by this point in the off-season I’m in the gym every day with Dwayne. One day we’ll work on speed. Other days we’re doing footwork and agility, heavy lifting, endurance. I’m not sure where we’ll start this year given my collarbone is still healing and the doctor has warned me not to do much more than gentle movements with my upper body, but I can’t wait to do something. All this rest is killing me.

  “Can’t you start the week after?” Chloe spoons more sweet potatoes onto her plate.

  “Excellent question.” My grandmother loves having someone else do her bidding. Maybe bringing Chloe wasn’t such a great idea after all. Now it’s two against one.

  “I’m already behind schedule.”

  “For a good reason,” Chloe says. “No one works harder than you. I get it. But you don’t want to end up like Upton. He fractured his clavicle and tried to come back too soon. Ended up misaligning the bone and needed surgery to repair the damage. It took him an extra few months before he was back in play.”

  “Upton is a pitcher.” One of the best.

  “He’s a reliever, and I’d argue your arm is more valuable.”

  “This is fascinating,” my grandma says. “I didn’t realize you followed baseball so closely, Chloe.”

  “It’s my favorite sport.”

  “Mine, too. For obvious reasons.” Grandmother looks fondly at me. “What made it your favorite?”

  “My dad.” If Casey were sitting with us, he’d see how fond his daughter is of him by the small, endearing smile lighting up her face. She takes a bite of her sweet potatoes, buying herself time, I think, before she decides to tell my grandmother more about her dad, her mom, and her youth. Not since high school has a woman besides my mom or grandmother carved out a soft spot in my chest, but Chloe is doing so with ease.

  I pay her close attention, listening for information she may have left out previously.

  Sweet isn’t a word I’d use to describe my grandmother, yet she says enough sweet things to make Chloe’s eyes water. Without thought, I take Chloe’s hand in mine. She gives a quick squeeze back before pulling her arm away.

  The too brief acknowledgment is a reminder she doesn’t want anything from me except my social media accounts.

  “You know you could start PT and work out in Hawaii,” my grandmother points out, wisely changing the subject back to me.

  I know that. I also know an entire week without my family stopping by to check on me is what I need more than anything else. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful because I’m not. I love my family.

  But they don’t always understand my desire for solitude. Ethan and Drew call me self-absorbed, and they’re right. I didn’t get to where I am in my career by socializing. I got here because I’ve put in the time and effort, and because baseball is what I’m good it. It wasn’t a struggle like everything else in my life, and since understanding that incredible gift, I’ve worked my ass off every day to be the best ball player I can be.

  And now that I am the best (hey, my stats don’t lie), I want to keep that distinction for as long as possible. My injury has screwed with that. It’s screwed with my head. The sooner I get back into my routine, the better.

  “That’s true, but I’m staying put.”

  “You’re choosing exercise over your family for a holiday that is traditionally all about relatives and eating way too much turkey and only happens once a year?” Chloe asks.

  Yep, this two against one sucks. “This time, yes.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  I know she means my choice is dumb, not that I’m dumb, but it rubs me the wrong way and my entire body tenses. I haven’t been made to feel unintelligent in years and I’m not sure why I do now except to think no woman has gotten to me like Chloe has since high school. A picture of my high school girlfriend, Sarina, floats through my mind. Her telling me how amazing I was the day I was drafted, how smart. Only for me to overhear her tell all our friends the next day how stupid I was and if not for baseball I’d be nothing.

  My grandmother meets my eyes. She knows lunch is over. “Grandmother, it was a pleasure as always.” I stand, lean over the table to kiss her cheek.

  “Please don’t rush off,” she says.

  “I have to. I’ll talk to you before you leave for Hawaii.”

  Understanding clouds her blue gaze. She’s always been perceptive, like Yoda, only better and slightly bigger.

  Chloe gets to her feet. “It was really nice to meet you, Rosemary. I’m sorry if I’ve cut your lunch with your grandson short.” Seems Chloe is perceptive too.

  “It was lovely to meet you. I hope to see you again.”

  “Will you tell Louis the meal was excellent?” I ask.

  “I will. You sure you won’t stay for dessert?”

  Damn it. I feel terrible for leaving early but distance from Chloe is more necessary at the moment. When my head says flee I’m useless to stop the impulse. “I’m sure.”

  I make my escape to the reserved parking in the alley behind the restaurant with Chloe at my side. I wish we’d taken two cars. Separation will have to wait a little longer.

  “Finn.” Chloe stops once we’re outside, the click of the heavy black door in some way leaving my insecurity inside. In another way reminding me I can’t lock this part of who I am away.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I haven’t known you for very long, Chloe, but I’m pretty sure you don’t say anything you don’t mean.” I’m acting like my seventeen-year-old self and I don’t like it. What is it about this woman?

  She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth then walks to the car and climbs into the passenger seat. She snaps in her seat belt, crosses her arms over her chest and turns her head away from me to look out the side window. When I struggle to pull my seat belt across my body and lock it into place with one hand, she leans over to help.

  “Thank you.”

  She mumbles something in response and resumes her position.

  The first few minutes in the leather seats go by in uncomfortable silence. It’s the first time there’s been such heavy strain between us, the air thick and uncertain, and I’d rather miss batting practice than feel this bothered. Huh
.

  “I said what I said because I was jealous,” she says softly, her face still turned away from me. “Not of Hawaii, but because you have your whole family, Finn, and a lot of people don’t.”

  People like her.

  Shit. I took what she said personally when it had nothing to do with me. Talk about an ego problem.

  “It’s just me, my dad, and my aunt Becky. She’s a pediatrician and lives in New Jersey so we don’t see her very often. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad and I’m not explaining myself so you’ll feel bad for me. Please don’t. Sometimes I just don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.” She turns her head to look at me. “So, we good?”

  “If you accept my apology for being a jerk about it then yeah.”

  “Done.” She rolls her head so she’s staring out the windshield.

  Dark clouds continue to blanket the shore in colorless light. Despite the dreariness, surfers dot the water to our left, sitting on their boards until a large enough wave comes for them. Right now, the sea is placid so they’ll be waiting a while. Patience will eventually pay off. Much like it does when a baseball player is up to bat.

  “Your grandma has a lot of spunk.”

  “She does. I’m surprised you didn’t ask to take a picture of the two of us. Hashtag favorite grandson.”

  The corner of Chloe’s mouth crinkles. “Ethan and Drew might have something to say about that.”

  “Exactly. By the way, thanks for fielding all her questions.”

  “She’s the cutest Nosy Parker I’ve ever met.”

  “A what?”

  “The British informal definition is an overly inquisitive person. I bet that’s part of what keeps her young. She’s always questioning and learning.”

  “Webster, Webster, Webster. It’s more like she’s always in everyone’s business.”

  “He says with affection.”

  “Well, yeah. You met her. It’s impossible not to love her even with her wise and powerful gift for prying.”

  “She’s like a nosy Yoda.”

  I almost get whiplash when I turn my head to stare at her.

  “Only with much smaller ears and fewer wrinkles,” she rushes to say, thinking incorrectly that might not be the nicest description when it’s spot-on. “And beauty. Your grandma is still stunning, but something about her reminded me of Yo—never mind. I’m going to stop putting my foot in my mouth now.” She slips her phone out of her purse and swipes up.

  “Don’t ever stop talking, Webster.” Unless you’re up for putting something else in your mouth. Yes, my mind went there.

  “I’m going to remember you said that.”

  “Please do.”

  “Hey, our posts are kicking ass. You’ve already accumulated over ten thousand likes on your coffee pic and it’s only been two hours. The one with your brothers is at nine K.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Scrolling through the comments. Do you want to help respond now?”

  “Definitely. It doesn’t get more authentic than me, right?”

  “A lot of them don’t require any detailed engagement beyond a thanks or thumbs-up since they’re compliments like ‘I’ll take one of each’ or ‘good morning indeed’ but @instawithjulie asks, ‘Which one of you is the funniest?’”

  “Funniest-looking is Ethan, don’t you think?” I say.

  “That’s perfect.” Chloe taps out the comment, I’m assuming verbatim, her fingers moving a hundred times faster than mine do when I’m on my phone.

  “@baseballblondie wants to know how you’re feeling.”

  “Better every day. Thanks for asking.”

  “@heather95 wants to know where Sammy is.”

  “Hiding under the coffee table.”

  Chloe and I continue back and forth for the rest of the drive. We make a good team, one I appreciate more and hate less as she effortlessly manages my accounts. She has no idea how much easier she’s making my life. I don’t normally respond to comments, not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have the time it would take me to do so.

  Peeking at her out of the corner of my eye, the distance I sought from her earlier is gone. Instead, this magnetic pull I can’t defuse gathers more heat and I suspect I’m headed toward heartache.

  Chapter Eight

  #StepUpToThePlate

  Finn

  Friday morning finds me toeing off my sandy running shoes with a satisfied grin on my face. While a run on the beach is still a couple of weeks away, I did a ridiculous number of squats on the water’s edge. The high reps equal fantastic fatigue in my thighs. A job well done. A balm for my troubled mind and spirit. My muscles will probably tell me I’m a dumbass for going hardcore the day after the team doctor gave me the okay, but I don’t care. Leisurely walks with Sammy haven’t been enough.

  I look down at my dog. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing a satisfied grin, too, having done multiple reps of stop, drop, and roll like a preschool champ.

  We enter the house through the French door. She takes off for her water dish. I lift the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my brow.

  “Where’s your sling?”

  The question, not to mention the voice, makes me jump. I drop my shirt to find Chloe sitting at the breakfast bar. Her laptop is open, her phone is beside it, and she’s got her hands wrapped around Drew’s mug. Behind her sits a fresh pot of coffee. Next to that is my smoothie. Sylvie makes it better than I do and she must have decided to take pity on me this morning.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  Chloe puts down the cup. “Good morning, Finn. How are you? Sylvie let me in, I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.” More than fine, really, but that’s only for me to wrestle with. I move around the counter to pick up my green beast of a drink.

  “Sylvie told me you got the go-ahead to exercise your lower body. Do you get to burn your sling now, too?”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Want me to get some matches?”

  “Nah. I think I’ll use it for tug-of-war with Sammy. The two of us can work out some aggression over it.” At the sound of her name, Sammy jumps up onto my legs. “Sit,” I command. She obeys so I grab her a treat. “Good girl.”

  “Look at you two,” Chloe praises.

  “These treats are training crack.”

  “Have you tried one?” She reaches for the bag and takes out a soft lamb puppy bite.

  I catch her wrist in a slight panic. She’s not going to eat it, is she? “What are you doing?”

  She sniffs the treat. “Hmm. Not bad.”

  “Not bad? Have you tried one before?”

  She eyes me with mischief, but puts the dog food back. “Oh, that’s right, Mr. Baseball Superstar with his gross green drink. You probably don’t touch anything that’s bad for you.”

  Not true. I’ve touched her and she’s definitely bad for me. In the best possible way according to my fantasies. I take a step to the side to put a little more space between us and change the subject. “What brings you by this morning?” I haven’t seen her since lunch on Monday. She’s been managing me from afar, she’s assured me, not that I’m worried about it. I’m just along for the ride. And according to a phone call with Rena, that ride is off to a good start on the freeway of fandom.

  “Surprise! Read this.” She turns her computer screen toward me. “I was so happy about it, I had to come show you in person.”

  I’m not sure what I’m looking at. When I make no move to read it she says, “Huffington Post picked up the story I wrote about you for Trend Chaser. This is fantastic exposure, Finn.” She rolls the mouse over a picture of me in my Landsharks uniform, clicks, and an article pops up.

  I’m frozen.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. “I promise I only wrote good things,” she teases.

  My pulse quickens as I squint at the screen, the words scrambled and jumping around in a dizzying pattern. The typeface is confusing, the letters bunched together.
My head starts to ache, the thought of focusing on any kind of text soul-destroying—after pushing myself until my leg muscles burned, I’m too worn out to concentrate on reading.

  “Finn?” Chloe’s gentle tone is laced with concern.

  I hate it. I hate her worry. I hate being caught unaware like this. She can take her surprise back where she came from and go home. “Email me the link, will you? I need to shower.” I don’t wait for her to respond. I don’t dare look at her. I don’t say thank you when I know I should. Smoothie in hand, I stride out of the kitchen and I don’t stop until I reach my bathroom where I plan to stand under a hot shower until it turns cold.

  Chloe

  I have no idea what just happened. One minute, Finn and I are joking around and the next he up and leaves the room like I’ve committed some major sin against him. I didn’t tell him about the article sooner because he doesn’t have to know every detail of my job. He didn’t hire me, the Landsharks did, and it’s safe to say when I’m not with him, I’m still working on his behalf.

  “What is his problem, Sammy?” The cutest puppy on the planet doesn’t bother looking up from gnawing on the new bone I left for her on her dog pillow.

  “She’s yet to answer any of my questions either,” Sylvie says, startling me when she walks back into the room. The woman has serious ninja skills. I never hear her coming or going.

  “Can I ask you the same question?” I say on impulse.

  Sylvie leans a hip against the counter. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun, her soft, round face is free of makeup. She could pass for forty even though I think she’s closer to sixty. Kindness exudes from her, and has since the moment we met. “What happened?”

  “I showed Finn this article I wrote—” I nod at my computer “—and he brushed it off with barely an acknowledgment and zero thanks. I don’t need his approval or praise, but a little gratitude would have been nice. He left the room like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. This is what Rena and the team want from me, but ultimately I want Finn to be happy with what I’m doing, so if he has a problem with something he needs to tell me so I can bring it up to the powers that be.” I’m rambling, but keep going. “I get that he’s been in the media spotlight a million times, and he might be tired of it, but I’ve researched previous stories on him, and I wrote something different. He could have at least read the first paragraph or something.”