Once we’re all seated and have our plates full, Paisley clears her throat. “Since we’re all here,” she says, smiling at each of us before she turns her eyes to her husband. It’s the look they share that tells me I already have a good idea of why she was so insistent we all be here. I watch as Cameron slides his hand behind her neck and places a soft kiss against her lips. “Cam and I have something to say.”
“We’re pregnant!” Cam announces. Paisley begins to laugh at her husband, and he shrugs. “I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” he defends himself.
We’re all on our feet and congratulating the happy couple. Jett doesn’t really know what’s going on, but he’s smiling and clapping and accepts a hug from each of us. He’s soaking up all the love he can get. He’s a smart one, my nephew.
For the rest of the night, we talk about the new baby as we all take a guess at the gender. It’s the perfect night, and I couldn’t be happier for Paisley and Cameron. I also can’t help but think that these moments, they’re what I crave. Nights like tonight are why I can’t risk my heart to a man like Holden Bailey. He’s in the game for the play, for a good time, and me, well, I’m the girl who wants what goes beyond the play. I want forever.
CHAPTER 4
Holden
I can’t get her out of my head. The dark-haired beauty who walked away from me without a second glance has dominated my thoughts all week. That’s why I’m here, sitting at the bar at the same club, The Outfield, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Never in my life have I chased a woman. And I don’t even really know if that’s what I’m doing tonight. All I know is that I can’t stop thinking about her. The way her silky hair slid through my fingers, or the way her body felt pressed against mine. Even more so, I can’t forget the way she dismissed me and walked away.
So, here I am, leaning casually against the bar with a drink in my hand, which happens to be club soda, and scanning the crowd. Something tells me that if I do run into her again, I’m going to need a clear head. I want her, and she wants me. I can feel it in the way her body responds to mine. She can’t hide the goose bumps that break out across her skin or the way her chest rises and falls faster with each breath when I’m near.
“Holden Bailey,” a high-pitched voice says, as a blonde wearing a dress so tight it could be skin tumbles toward me in sky-high heels. “Oh my God, it is you. I’m your biggest fan.” She twirls her hair around her index finger and pouts her lips.
News flash, ladies, men don’t find that sexy. I debate my identity, but there’s no point in lying. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything to hide my appearance. “That’s me,” I reply, taking a sip of my club soda and letting my eyes scan the crowd again.
“Huge fan.” The blonde steps closer. “How about you buy me a drink?” She tilts her head to the side and licks her lips.
I hate to be a dick, and I can afford it. “Sure.” Turning, I signal for the bartender. “The lady needs a drink,” I say when he approaches.
“I’ll have sex on the beach,” she tells him. She’s trying out this breathy thing with her voice, but I’m not feeling it. I know it’s all for show because her tone was high-pitched a few seconds ago. I have to fight not to roll my eyes at her.
Ignoring her, I go back to scanning the crowd. My mystery girl is nowhere in sight, and I can’t help the pang of disappointment that washes over me. This is a big city, and I don’t know where to look for her.
“Thanks, handsome,” the blonde says, but she’s not thanking the guy who just handed her a drink. Her eyes are on me.
“Yep,” I say, dismissing her.
“I’m your biggest fan,” she coos again, stepping closer and placing her hand on my arm.
“Yeah?” I ask, feigning interest. “You like to see me out on the mound, winding up each pitch?”
She nods. “I love how fast you throw the ball.” She moves in a little closer. Now it’s not only her hand on my arm but her fake-ass tits as well. Normally, I’d take what she’s offering, but not tonight, not after meeting my dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty. This woman standing before me pales in comparison. Everything about her is fake, even her claim to be my biggest fan.
“Funny,” I drawl. “I’m a shortstop.” She stares at me with a blank expression, and I realize she has no idea what I’m talking about. She doesn’t have a clue about the game I love. “I’m not a pitcher.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, I know.” She swats at my arm, laughing off her blunder. “I knew you were teasing.”
“I see a friend. It was good to see you.” With my club soda in hand, I leave her standing there, mouth gaping open. I have no desire to spend another second with her. Instead, I move around the club. I stop and talk shop with a few guys who call out my name and sign a couple of autographs. I have no issue giving my time to my true fans.
I’ve almost made it full circle. I’m maybe twenty feet from the bar, which is thankfully void of the blonde, and about the same distance from the front door. The same door that my girl is currently walking through. Excitement bubbles through me.
She’s here.
The only time I ever feel this kind of rush is when I’m stepping out onto the field. It’s the chase. It has to be. On their own accord, my feet carry me to her. I don’t stop until I’m standing next to her with my arm slung over her shoulder.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” I say, my lips close to her ear.
She stops walking and turns to look at me. I see the desire, and is that confusion in her eyes? “No,” she replies and begins to walk again, my arm falling off her shoulders. I rush to catch up with her and her friend.
“Come on now,” I say when we reach the bar. “Don’t be like that.”
“Hi, I’m Autumn.” The friend offers me her hand. I open my mouth to tell her my name, but she beats me to it. “Holden, I know.” She smiles and turns to raise her hand to get the bartender's attention.
He sees them and rushes over, ignoring all the other assholes of the male variety trying to get their attention. “Ladies,” he greets. “What can I get you?”
“Two Long Islands,” Autumn orders. She glances over at me. “Holden?” she asks.
“I’m good.” I ditched my glass of club soda during my little trek around the club, looking for her.
“I’m Holden.” I offer my hand to the woman who I can’t stop thinking about. “I think we’re way past the time for me to properly introduce myself.”
“Parker,” she replies but doesn’t take my offered hand.
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lean in close. “Nice to meet you, Parker,” I whisper with my lips close to her ear. I see the small shiver that races through her.
“So, Holden, what brings you to town?” Autumn asks.
I’m a little surprised by her question. Usually, it’s an autograph or a selfie request. I don’t think I’ve ever had just a casual conversation with a woman, not since before becoming well-known at college and now in the professional league. “Family.” It’s not a lie. My parents have lived here their entire lives. It was me who moved away to college, and when I was signed in the professional league, it was my career that kept me from home. Well, until now. I’m no longer a Tomahawk. I’m a Blaze, living in my hometown for the first time since graduating high school.