Holden might have been interested at the club. That’s what he does. He goes to clubs, picks up his next fling or whatever, and it’s a one and done. He’s not going to follow me here to a small coffee shop full of college students. That’s not his MO. Not to mention he can have anyone he wants. He doesn’t need to be chasing me. I laugh quietly to myself. I can’t believe I even considered the possibility.
Grabbing my pens back out of my bag, I take a long, hefty drink of my pumpkin spice latte and get back to work. I lose myself in the business ethics assignment and clear all thoughts of Holden Bailey from my mind.
Two hours later, my assignment is complete, the next week’s are started, and my latte is long since gone. Feeling accomplished and knowing I have the rest of the afternoon to myself, I decide to head home and get caught up on laundry. It’s been piling up for over a week, and I can’t keep ignoring it. Well, I guess I could, but it’s bothering the hell out of me to know it’s piling up. I hate being behind. Not just on laundry, on anything.
After closing down my laptop, I slide my books, notebooks, and computer into my bag. I gather my pens and highlighters and shove them in the small side pocket, and move to stand, but before I do, a shadow falls over my table.
I don’t have to look up to know it’s him. I can feel it in the way my body tingles. It’s only ever happened around him. There’s no denying our chemistry is strong, but I need more than that. That’s what I have to keep reminding myself.
Squaring my shoulders, I look up and find him smiling down at me. “Hey, sweet pea.” He winks.
“Holden.” I try to remain unaffected, but when you’re on the receiving end of Holden Bailey winking at you and calling you a sweet nickname, only then can you understand the challenge.
“Planning on going back to college?” I ask.
“College was a good time.” He nods. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Well, if you need the table, I was just leaving.” I move to stand, but before I can lift my ass out of the booth, he’s placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Stay.” It’s whispered and not at all the cocky version of the man I’m used to.
I don’t know why I listen to him. Maybe because I don’t want to cause a scene. Maybe it’s the sincerity of his voice. Whatever the reason, I find myself relaxing back against the booth, letting my bag slip off my shoulder and tumble onto the seat beside me as Holden slides into the booth across from me.
“Here.” He pushes a drink across the table at me. “I asked the barista if she knew what you were drinking. I thought you might need a refill. You’ve been at it for a while now.”
“H-How do you know?”
“I’ve been here for a while—almost two hours. I saw how focused you were, and I didn’t want to interrupt you. I figured that was the last way to convince you to spend time with me.”
“You want me to spend time with you?” I ask stupidly. I need to shake out of this Holden daze I seem to be in. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on his and take a drink, knowing it’s going to be another pumpkin spice latte. Susie, the barista, is here a lot, and her memory is like a steel trap. It helps that I’m a creature of habit, and Cup of Joe is my local study of choice.
“You know I do,” he says, once I’ve set my drink back on the table. “I’ve been here every day for weeks. I’ve even sat in this same booth watching the door, hoping to see you.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my mouth is dry. I reach for my drink and take another small sip. “Why?” I finally manage to ask.
He smiles, and I’m glad I’m sitting. I’ve seen him smile on TV a million times, I’ve been on the receiving end at the club, but this one, while I’m sitting here across from him, completely sober, it’s potent.
“You seem to like running from me. I thought I would level the playing field a little and come to you. A little birdie told me this is your hangout.”
“Autumn.” I shake my head. “I study here a lot. It’s quiet, which is hard to believe as close as it is to campus, but I’m glad that it is. I can disappear into my own world and get my work done.”
“It was something to see it. To watch you get lost in what you were doing and block out everything around you. Although, it’s not safe.” His brow furrows. “You should be more aware of your surroundings, sweet pea.”
“This place is perfectly safe. I’ve been coming here since freshman year.”
“And you’re a-?”
“Senior.” I remind him.
He nods. “I didn’t mind college. Most of the work came easy for me.”
“What was your major?” I find myself asking. I’m aware that we’re actually having a conversation that has nothing to do with him convincing me to jump into bed with him.
“Sports medicine. I figured if the pro gig doesn’t work out, I can still be around the sport and be a trainer.”
“My sister, she’s a trainer.” I almost messed up and told him her name and that she used to work for the Blaze but gave it up to be home with her son, Jett, and be able to build a home for him while her husband, Cameron, is on the road all season. They also travel to the away games when they can.
“Nice.” He nods. “Where does she work?”
“Um… she’s a stay-at-home mom right now. Her little boy, he’s three, and she’s having another. Her husband, he does well for himself, so she’s raising their family.” Not a lie, but not very forthcoming as to who my sister and my brother-in-law are, but that’s okay. I don’t like to divulge that information. Everyone knows who we are or who our dad is. Paisley had already graduated when she met Cameron, and my little sister, Peyton, is now on campus. Most people treat us just like anyone else, but a few fans of my dad or Cam’s will ask for autographs. Sometimes, Peyton and I oblige them. Other times, we give them a polite he’s just Dad, or he’s just Cam, and leave it at that.
“That’s good.” He nods. “What about you? What’s your major?”
“Do you really care?” I ask. It’s rude, and by his flinch, I know he feels the heat of my words. “Sorry,” I mutter. I don’t know why I’m so rude and short-fused when it comes to him. He’s trying to be nice, making polite conversation, and he even bought me a latte. The least I can do is be civil. I have no reason not to be. The fact he lights my body on fire anytime he’s near isn’t an excuse. That’s my issue. Not his.
He reaches across the table and links his fingers with mine. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
I nod. Swallowing hard, I answer, “Public relations.”
He grins. “So you graduate in a year, right?”
“Yeah, next spring.”
He nods. “I’ll be your first client.”
“I What?” Did he just say what I think he did? He wants me to represent him? I couldn’t have heard that right.
He runs his thumb over the palm of my hand. “Yeah. I’m a professional baseball player, and we all have a PR person backing us.”
“Do you have one now?”
“Yeah, and the entire company, as well as the agent who is assigned to me, are complete shit. They let the press think and say whatever they want about me.”