The wicked smile that spreads across his face gives those dark eyes a dangerous glint, and I forget all about calling his dimples adorable earlier. “Not a chance, Hermosa.”
My neck prickles with heat in a way I haven’t felt in a while from his flirtation. I forget for a minute that I’m supposed to be here with my boyfriend and bask in the glow of being desired. The two of them could not be more different—Brad with his buttoned-up attitude, blond hair, and his lean build from years of road biking, while the man sitting next to me is the epitome of tall, dark, and dangerously handsome.
“Hey Dee, sorry I’m late,” the familiar voice startles me as he strolls up beside me, dropping a hasty kiss on my cheek. For a moment, guilt consumes me. I was allowing this stranger to flirt with me and worse, I was enjoying it. But the guilt fades when I see Brad is absorbed in his phone as he leans against the bar. “Did you order?”
“I just got the asado negroto go. My new friend recommended them to me.”
He holds out his hand to Brad. “Cruz.”
Cruz.I let the name echo through my head. Something about it just sounds right to me, like it fits.
“Hey, thanks for keeping my girl company until I could get here.” Brad gives his hand a pump, straightening as he sizes him up.
“My pleasure,” Cruz returns, but his tone is clipped, and the look on his face tells me he’s not impressed.
The bartender brings Cruz his to-go container, and he stands to leave. Before he walks away, he looks over his shoulder. “What’s the name of your coffee shop? I’ve been drinking coffee from the corner store. It’s terrible.” He makes a face like he just tasted something bitter, causing the tan skin around his nose to wrinkle.
“Buns & Roses.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there, Dee, is it?”
I shake my head. Brad is the only person who has ever called me that. And he only gets away with it because I thought it was endearing when we started seeing each other in college. “It’s Delilah. Enjoy your dinner. Don’t let the clones get you on the way out.” Warm laughter rumbles from deep within him, before he disappears through the bar, giving the host a fist bump as he steps out onto the dark sidewalk.
“Do you mind if we eat here? One of the partners from the firm planned to stop by for a drink.” Brad’s fingers fly across his phone, completely engrossed in his email.
As a recovering people pleaser, my first instinct is to default to what will make everyone else happy, but I am working hard to put myself first more. “It’s already eight and opening a coffee shop comes early.” I infuse as much conviction into my voice as I can muster.
My dad is always telling me I’m too nice for my own good. It’s times like this where I’m likely to believe him, even though my Pops always retorts that my compassion is my best quality. It’s next to impossible not to be empathetic when you are raised by two people that had to fight so hard to have a family. I won the dad lottery, with a little help from science. Our house was always filled with overwhelming gratitude that we had each other, even when things weren’t always easy. I’m learning to balance that without being a doormat.
“We need to find you some help at the coffee shop, so you aren’t there so early every morning. I need you by my side at some of these dinners.” His whiny tone grates on my nerves and I steal my backbone, channeling my dad’stake-no-prisonersattitude.
“I’m not ready for that yet. Financially, the shop is still too new to take that risk, and I don’t want to hand the baking off to someone else.” With my chin tilted up, I ignore the twisting in my gut at how foreign it feels to assert myself.
He pouts, but wraps his arms around my waist. “Someday, right?”
“Yes, someday.” I mentally high-five myself for not completely folding under pressure. Once things are more established, I’ll be happy to hand over some of the less rewarding parts of running a business. But I get to call the shots on how and when that happens.
“I hate that our schedules conflict so often these days. We need more time together.” Brad drops a kiss on my cheek, reminding me of the sweet boy that won me over all those years ago. “I’m glad I got to see you, even if it was only for a few minutes.”
And just like that, he ruined it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him he was the one who showed up almost an hour late. I press my lips shut, resisting the urge, reminding myself of our life plan. One we came up with while cuddled together under the stars during our freshman year of college. I open my coffee shop and he makes partner by the time he’s thirty—providing us financial stability and the foundation to get married and start a family together.
His goals support my goals.I repeat the mantra in my head as I push up on my toes to give him a kiss goodbye.
“You have fun schmoozing.” I wipe the lipstick off his cheek with my thumb and grab my food from the bar top—my bed calling my name.
Chapter 10
Dungeon Suitors
Flashback - Three Years Earlier
Looping through the park, my feet eat up the trail as I run back towards downtown. My lungs burn with the exertion of pushing myself hard. Just because it’s the All-Star Break doesn’t mean I need to be useless. The gossip mill is rampant with rumors that I’m not in the headspace to be impactful to any team. Add in the fact that I’m joining the Bandits mid-season and I have to prove myself to a lot of people—to myself—that I am worth the trade. I have to show the fans that I will deliver now, when their team needs it the most. Not to mention I need to show the St. Louis Commanders that trading me was a mistake. And I need to prove to Jarrett that I can live out this dream for both of us.
I slow to a walk once I hit the six-mile mark and take a quick break to stretch out my legs before returning to my new apartment. Maybe I’m prolonging this run to avoid going back there, but I’m still not used to walking in the door and not finding his shoes scattered across the mat.
Leaving behind St. Louis, and the house I shared with my younger brother, Jarrett, was one of the many difficult things I did this year. There’s nothing wrong with Denver or the apartment, I just never expected to be here. This was supposed to be the year that Jarrett and I got to live out our dreams. Instead, I moved across the country, alone.
My team-mandated therapist suggested I look at this trade—and move—as a fresh start after everything that happened in St. Louis. The move has helped, despite feeling out of my element. Being out of the space we shared while I played baseball for the Commanders, and he played for the local affiliate team, has helped me start the healing process.
