Dirty Game: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 6

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She lowered her voice.

  “I can take you inside right now and finish what we started.” I eyed her.

  She blushed. “For what? Why? Sleeping together again? You think that’s a good idea?”

  I tied off the boat and stepped toward her.

  “One of my favorite things to do.” I winked.

  She slapped at my bare chest. “Shut up. Just take your sexy smile and winking and that body and shut up, Blake.”

  My eyebrows rose high. “You have a problem with me or something?”

  She dropped all the bags. “I do. A big problem.”

  “Then let’s hear it. What is it? What is it I’ve done to the high and mighty Sierra Emory?”

  “That.” She pointed, her eyes an icy blue. “I knew it was there. You are mad at me. And as much as I want to believe the guy I used to be with is underneath that hot body of yours, you’re actually a huge dick. Huge.”

  “Are you saying I have a nice dick because I think you already know that.”

  “See?” she fumed. “Complete dick.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. It is. I don’t know what this is. You want revenge sex? Is that it?”

  “Maybe.” I admitted it. I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted her so badly I couldn’t name it, label it, or dissect it. It was the kind of want that made my veins shatter.

  Her eyes widened. “You weren’t actually supposed to say yes to that.”

  “Why not? We’re getting everything out in the open aren’t we?”

  I stepped off the pier. She was in the backyard now, backing up toward the porch.

  “So that’s what this was? Not rekindling what we had, but revenge? You wanted to sleep with me to prove some kind of point?”

  I was close enough to pull her into my arms. I wrapped a hand tightly around her waist. She stiffened against me.

  “I do have a point to prove,” I growled.

  I thought I felt her go weak in my arms.

  “Wh-what is that?”

  “That if I fuck you again, you’ll never want another man. That one time with me will ruin you from ever wanting someone else.”

  “You’re arrogant,” she whispered.

  “Arrogant because I know it’s true.” My lips dipped to her ear. “I’ll be so deep inside you, baby, so fucking hard. And you like it slow, right?” I brushed my finger over her bare shoulder. “I’ll ruin you.”

  She went silent.

  I let her go and she staggered backward.

  “You are an ass, Blake Wyatt. A complete and total ass.”

  I chuckled. “Before you leave this island you’ll be knocking on my door. I’m sure of it.”

  I turned for the boat. She was under my skin. Maybe more than I was under hers. If I didn’t get out of here now I would pick her up and take her upstairs to her bedroom—somewhere I’d never been.

  “That’s not happening,” she called after me.

  I waved over my shoulder. “See you later, darlin’.” I could hear her fuming before I started the engine. I put the boat in reverse, leaving a very hot and bothered blonde in my wake.

  15

  Sierra

  Just like that he was gone. The boat turned past the marina and I couldn’t see him anymore. I stomped up the stairs. I didn’t know if I was more pissed that he would say something like that to me, or the fact that I was on the verge of begging for him to make good on his promise.

  I dumped the drenched beach bag in the utility sink and pulled out the soaking wet towels to hang outside. I plucked four clothes pins from the line and clipped them to the colorful edges of towels. I ducked around the billowing towel, shimmied out of my cutoff shorts, and pulled the tank top over my head. Everything I had was coated in wet sand. I shook the clothes to loosen the sand stuck to the fabric. There was no point. I knew it would be tomorrow before I could properly shake these out.

  I leaned against the tree on the other side of the clothesline. I closed my eyes as images of his hands and hard chest washed through my mind like those unwanted waves.

  I kicked off my sandy flip-flops by the back door, and traipsed into the house in search of some ice tea. I grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice and a few lemon slices.

  I had left my phone on the counter. There was a message from work. I listened to the voicemail.

  “Hey Sierra. I know you’re on leave, but we need you back at the station. Turns out Wendy needs to take maternity leave early and there isn’t another anchor we can get on short notice to fill in for her. Give me a call. It’s Brody, by the way.”

  I groaned. Work was the last thing on my mind. They would have to wait until this tea was gone. I had too many things going on.

  It wasn’t like I was trying to take advantage of the station. If anything I had been terrified to leave. But I hadn’t made it back for the funeral and I didn’t have any other family members. It seemed like a good idea to roll all my sick time and funeral time into one big summer break.

  The head of human resources said she understood. As the sole heir, I had a lot of shit to sort through. But time was shrinking. The house was still seventy-five percent full and I hadn’t even tried to list it yet with a realtor.

  I slumped onto the couch.

  And Blake.

  If I thought somehow I could right that wrong, I was hopeless.

  The cruises. The drinks. The day at the beach—it was all to get in my pants for some kind of final goodbye vengeance sex.

  My skin tingled. My core ached.

  Why did it sound like the hottest night of my life?

  I picked up the phone and waited for Brody to answer.

  “Sierra, hey girl. Glad you called me back. When are you coming back?”

  “I still have two weeks. I was planning on using them,” I replied.

  “Right. You got my message about Wendy, right? She has to go on bed rest next week.”

  “Bed rest? Is it that serious?”

  “Uhh. I don’t think so.”

  “Did you ask her?” I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know any details.

  “Look, it isn’t my business. I just work the schedule.”

  I sighed. “So you need me back a week early?”

  “We do, babe. Can you come home?”

  Home. It was a funny word lately. Dallas was where my apartment was. Where I kept my massive shoe collection and my journalism school diploma. The island wasn’t home anymore. But the memories had started to seep in in surprising ways. Familiar scents. Comfortable accents. Views that soothed my soul.

  “Yeah, of course.” I tried to smile. “Tell Wendy not to worry about it.”

  “Good. I knew you’d come through. We’ve missed you around here.”

  “Thanks. I’ve missed it too.”

  “See you next week.”

  “Yep. See you soon.”

  I hung up and realized my job of going through Aunt Lindy’s house had just become unsurmountable. There was no way I was going to get everything done in a week. I was crazy to think it would have been done in two.

  That meant I was going to have to come back.

  16

  Blake

  I pressed my palms into the sawhorses and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I was in here.

  All I could smell was sawdust and turpentine. Everywhere I looked I saw him. Climbing the ladder with a bucket of paint. Arguing in the office about a bill someone refused to pay. But they were only memories. Dad was gone. He wasn’t going to barge in here and tell me I was doing this all wrong. He would know a better way to do it. He always had a better way than I did.

  I picked up a tattered piece of sand paper and braced it between my hand and a piece of juniper. I smoothed the wood with the rough surface. The more I moved it back and forth, the sleeker the wood looked. I ground it harder, repeating the motion.

  I got lost in it. The movement. The stillness of the barn. What it meant that I had opened the doors to his
sanctuary.

  Ten minutes later, Cole entered the boathouse.

  He stopped a few feet short of where I was sanding. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Don’t say anything.” I gritted my teeth.

  He folded his arms over his chest. “You weren’t in the house. Didn’t think you’d actually be in here.”

  I nodded. “Needed something to do.”

  I heard him break the seal on a beer. “Need one of these?”

  I grinned. “Hell yeah I do.”

  I threw the sand paper down and took one of the beers. “Thanks.”

  “So, you opened the barn back up. Does that mean anything?” he asked, taking a seat on one of the empty sawhorses. His feet shuffled over wood shavings that littered the barn floor.

  “No.” I chugged. “Means I needed to sand this juniper.”

  “Right. Right. So it has nothing to do with a certain blonde who is leaving the island?”

  My eyes shot to his. “What are you talking about?”

  “I ran into Shirley when I bought the beer. She said Sierra has to head back to Texas in a couple of days. Something about work. You didn’t know?”

  “Huh. No, I hadn’t heard. Good for her.”

  “Man, really?”

  “What the fuck do you want me to do? She doesn’t want to stay. Some people leave and come back. Some don’t.”

  “And you’re giving up on her? She came back, man. She’s trying to do the right thing.”

  I tipped the cold bottle to my lips. “The right thing? She was forced to come back here. Don’t cut her any slack. She’s here because she has to be.”

  Cole shook his head. “I knew her in high school too. Don’t forget that.”

  “And you were here when she left.”

  “I was. But she was a kid. We all were. You seriously going to hold a grudge like that?”

  “No. I don’t give a shit what she does.”

  “You’re not going to call her?” Cole grilled me. “Because that’s what this is all about. The sanding, opening the barn, the pissy mood—it’s Sierra.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have taken her out to the Dock House or the Cape. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking opening up that shit back up with her.”

  I kept my head down and focused on smoothing out each bump in the plank’s grain. Sanding was good. It kept me from thinking. But Cole was pushing hard to make me face things about Sierra I didn’t want to admit.

  “Ok, ok. I’m just trying to help you out. Seems like you’re making a mistake from where I stand.”

  “Stay out of it, Cole. It’s complicated.” I groaned.

  Cole threw his hands in the air and took a step backward. “I’m out. You do what you’re going do.”

  “Thanks. I think I can handle Sierra.”

  He turned before he walked out of the doors. “For the record, it’s good to see the lights on in here again.”

  I did my best impression of a smile. “Thanks, man.”

  “You bet.”

  I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist and tossed the sandpaper in the open trash can. I had already gone through two sheets on just a few boards. They were rubbed raw. And underneath it all I felt the same way. Raw. Open. Staring pain and grief in the face under the dark cloak of uncertainty.

  Sierra. Fuck. What was I going to do about that girl? The vein along the side of my neck pulsed with anger. Why should I be surprised she was running so soon? Wasn’t that what she did? She’d left at the most painful time in my life. Right as my parents sat me down and told me my mother had only months to live.

  And where was the girl who loved me? The one who had my back? The one who pushed me toward my dreams? She had vanished like foam on the beach. Washed out like a cold wave on a December beach.

  And that’s what she would do again. Leave.

  But for fake’s sake, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, or about what had happened in that cove on the beach. She was infuriating, stubborn, quick-tempered, argumentative, and temporary. Had always been—I just didn’t know it back then.

  I picked up another prickly sheet of unused paper and laid it rough side down on the next board.

  I had plenty of experience with summer flings. At twenty-six, I had spent my share of summers fucking vacationing girls at the beach and I knew the drill. Someone always got too attached, no matter what the upfront agreement was. And it was never me. The last time I’d even thought about feeling something toward a woman ended the day she drove over the bridge.

  I sanded deeper and longer strides into the plank. This was the way it had to be.

  Thrashers groupies followed me to every city. They waited for me in hotel lobbies and outside of the locker room. And hell, they were smart women. Beautiful women. Women who would have done anything to make me happy. And for night I let them. But that’s all I could give them—one night.

  There was no reason to get involved with her further. She had called me out on the revenge sex, and I’d managed to stay away for a few days. Our trip down memory lane was over.

  Flashes of her long legs crept into my mind. Those lips, and the way she dug her nails into my back. The way she purred under my touch and leaned into my body every time I got close. That innocent look she still had. The good girl image with bright blue eyes that screamed a purity so damn alluring I wanted another look. Another touch. Another taste of the girl I had made mine all those years ago. Because when it came down to it, she had been mine. She was mine first. She had been untouched and naïve. She’d needed me. She’d depended on me. And I’d protected her as if she were a treasure. My treasure.

  Oh hell, what am I doing? I tossed the paper on the floor and grabbed me keys. There was a hot-tempered blonde I needed to see.

  17

  Sierra

  There wasn’t much else I could do. I realized I had to accept defeat. I may never finish clearing out the house or sell it. Maybe I should call one of those estate companies and have them liquidate everything for me.

  The thought of having complete strangers go through Aunt Lindy’s personal items didn’t feel right. I couldn’t do that to her.

  I may have let her down the last few years of her life, but I didn’t have to let her down in death.

  My shoulders sank as I stared into the bottom of my glass of wine. I sat on the back porch, watching boats cruise past.

  I wondered how many times she had done this before she’d died. Sat in this exact wicker rocker and watched life sail by. I took another sip and reached for the chilled bottle next to me.

  It was the kind of sunset I was going to drink through. I didn’t see any other way.

  I heard the familiar sound of tires on gravel and looked up when Blake’s truck rolled into view.

  I hadn’t seen him in a few days. I thought it was for the best. Things had gotten too messy. Too complicated. Too hard.

  “Thought you’d already have your suitcase on the porch,” he barked, walking toward me, taking huge strides.

  “Hi to you too,” I sassed.

  But my chest tightened when I saw him. His T-shirt clung to his chest and it was hard to look away from the sculpted lines of his arms. Damn it. Why did he always have to be so hot?

  “So you’re just going to run away again?” he accused. There was fire in his eyes.

  He stood six inches from me and I could feel the heat radiating from his glare. It poured off his body in ripples of fevered anger.

  I made the mistake of looking up.

  “How did you know I was leaving?”

  “Just answer me. Are you taking off and selling Lindy’s house?”

  I placed the wine glass down and rose to meet him. “What difference does it make to you?”

  “Because I actually give a shit about this island. I care if developers come in and get ahold of this property. I know you don’t. You can’t get out of here fast enough.”

  My hands flew to my hips. “I don’t get how y
ou can pretend to know so much about my motivations.”

  He snorted. “Baby, I know every play you’ve ever made.”

  My spine tingled. A shiver ran from one shoulder to the other. He had no idea what he was talking about. And I was just tipsy enough to tell him to get the hell of my porch.

  “If you’re done lecturing me about the sanctity of the island, you can go. I don’t need this.”

  “I’ll pay you for it.”

  “What?” My eyes almost reeled back in my head.

  “What do you want for the house? I’ll pay you cash.”

  I shook my head. “You are not buying Aunt Lindy’s house.”

  “Why not? You sure as hell don’t want it. You’ll take any excuse to get off this piece of sand.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t that what you did eight years ago?” His eyes bored into mine. “You ran. You took off. Let everyone down. And you never looked back. Don’t pretend you give a fuck now. I’ll buy the house and then we can make sure we never run into each other again. Deal?”

  “Stop. Just stop it, Blake.”

  “Why? Did I push you too hard toward the truth?” His lips formed a snarl.

  The wine whirled through my empty stomach. “You want to know what happened? Is that what you want?” I baited him, when I knew I shouldn’t. But I was on a roll and couldn’t stop myself.

  He chuckled. “I know exactly what happened. But sure, tell me.”

  He mocked me. He belittled me. He pushed me to the edge and I came out swinging.

  “I was pregnant, Blake. I was pregnant with your baby.” The words slipped from my lips and the porch was suddenly quiet. The only thing I could hear was my heart beating so loudly it filled my ears with the sounds of thumping blood.

  “That’s a lie.”

  I hung my head. One tear slipped and then another. I fell into the rocker. Eight years of hidden secrets and anguish came pouring out. Eight years of lies. Eight years of loneliness. The humiliation and the fear pooled in my stomach. I was twisted in knots of anguished emotion.