“I had a really good time tonight,” I tell him, using the most cliché line ever.
But who cares, I’m so out of practice with dating that it’s a miracle I didn’t burp or jumble my words or drop my entire purse on the sidewalk instead.
“Me too.” His blue eyes, which mirror the dark indigo of the night sky right now, are fixated on my lips.
We meet in the middle, him bending from his sky-high height and me pushing up on my toes. Our lips fuse, and my mouth begins to work in tandem with his. His tongue tangles with mine, and before I know what’s happening, Walker has backed me against the front door. His hands are under my coat, roaming up and over my breasts encased in my shirt. My hands are tugging at his shirt collar, and we’re … well, I’d have to call it dry humping. It escalates so quickly, but I guess that’ll happen when you haven’t had sex, or orgasmed during sex, in as long as I have.
I’m about to suggest him hauling me back to his truck when he breaks the kiss, more like rated-R make-out session, off.
“Hannah, I know I’m going to regret this the minute I get back in my car, but we should stop.” He looks properly mussed, his lips swollen from where I’ve nipped at them.
It only makes me want to continue exactly what we were doing, without thinking about any consequence that comes after.
“Well, if you’re going to regret it, maybe we shouldn’t.” I’m weak and horny.
He smiles ruefully. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you into the bed of my pickup right now. But … I want this to last. I’m serious about you, Hannah, and you have a lot going on. I don’t want to push too quickly too fast, because I want you to be comfortable. So as much as a lot of my body parts are screaming in protest, I’m going to say good night.”
Walker lays one last gentle, but piercing, kiss on my lips, and my eyes stay closed for a few seconds after he pulls away.
“Good night, Hannah.” I hear his smile in his voice.
I stay on the porch until his truck drives off into the night, smiling like a damn fool.
15
Walker
“Haven’t we seen enough of each other for more than half the year? Isn’t this supposed to be our detox time?”
Hayes laments as he plops himself down at my kitchen island anyway, grabbing a beer out of the six-pack I set in the middle.
“A bunch of the guys were bored, so I proposed a get together at my house. If you don’t want to stay, go home to your woman.”
My former teammate harrumphs. “Colleen is working tonight, some late meeting with your father and some other executives. Our season may be over, but hers never stops.”
I understand the bitterness in his tone. I’ve grown up that way, with my father gone for most of my childhood. The thing is, Dad liked the office more than he ever liked being at home. When Sinclair and I were growing up, if we didn’t have a baseball game on the schedule, he would attend every road trip. Back then, he wasn’t the owner, but still high up in the organization. It’s tough, loving someone who is so married to their job. I guess, from being on the other end of it myself, this is an unconscious reason I’ve never settled down. I’m in the prime of my career and have many years left to play the game I love. Being a husband, a father … it wouldn’t be easy for me to leave them all the time. I’ve always wondered if my father was concerned about being absent, but he’s never shown any sign that it’s bothered him. Part of me worries I’d turn into that, not caring if I was missing chunks of my family’s life.
“And it never will. It’ll be something you have to live with, so get used to it. You plan on being with a powerful woman, and it will affect your life until she decides she wants to step back. Which I can’t see Colleen doing.”
Hayes blinks at me. “Jeez, you could have slapped me and it would have felt better. I wasn’t complaining about how driven she is. I just miss her when she’s gone so much. And no, I’m not going to start crying.”
I shake my head to clear the cobwebs of childhood past. “Sorry, man, I was projecting. Colleen isn’t like that, though she’s very dedicated. It’s just … I grew up with a dad in the same position kind of, and he was gone more than he was around. I know you two are better at working through that then my parents ever were.”
Hayes tilts his head. “Hm, didn’t think about that. I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what it was like to actually grow up in the Callahan brood.”
“It’s interesting for sure. The last few years included. A trial, a scandal, an uncle in jail. Really wholesome family.” I roll my eyes.
In truth, growing up a Callahan came with all the mystery and folklore that growing up a Kennedy might. We definitely aren’t as major as the Camelot bunch, but with a huge family, padded bank accounts, and one of the biggest dynasties in baseball, the buzz surrounding our family is hard to ignore. It never went to my head, I know how ordinary these people are, but there have been stories written about my baseball career since I joined the local little league at the age of five. The pressure has always been high, not only to succeed once my father saw I had talent on the field, but just as a member of my family in general.
The doorbell saves us from getting any deeper, and then my house is infested with four other loud, opinionated athletes.
“Should we play Call of Duty?” Clark asks, plucking a mozzarella stick off the hot appetizer tray I picked up from one of the local delis in town.
I grab a jalapeño popper myself, already regretting letting these idiots in to argue in my kitchen.
“Bro, we’re not fifteen. Can we at least play something that makes us sound a little mature, like poker?” Max, our left outfielder, asks.
Jimenez, the catcher I’ve been playing with almost my entire career, rolls his eyes. “I’m tired tonight, boys, can’t we just chill? Watch a game, shoot the shit?”
Hayes raises his hand. “I’m in for that.”
“Of course, you are, old man. Don’t want your money taken.” Brandon, one of the newer rookies, he’s only two years into the league, smirks.
“Watch who you’re calling old, rookie. I could beat you any day, any time.” Hayes shoots him a glare.
In the end, we decide to head down to my basement, which is media room central. Hayes, Jimenez, and I settle on the huge sectional in front of the projector screen that’s currently got a sports documentary playing, while Clark and Max dick around on one of the many vintage arcade games I bought for down here.
Brandon is thoroughly distracted, scrolling through his phone, before he talks. “Man, dating apps here are not as exciting as in New York.”
Jimenez snorts. “Of course, they’re not, they’re are like fifty percent fewer people out here in Packton. Not to mention, half the girls got married like right out of college.”
“I need to get laid so bad,” Brandon whines, and I can’t hold back my eye roll.
“Rookies.” Hayes snorts.
“Tell me about it. Dude, you’ll be on road trips soon enough. Don’t worry, put up some big numbers for the team next season and you’ll have girls flying out to see you.” I pat him on the shoulder.