Covering Home (26 page)

“Is that right?” Britt maneuvered out of the parking lot and joined a line of cars filling a side street. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a great little place a few minutes from here, Daniel’s. Ever tried it?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I stick pretty close to my hotel when I’m here.”

“It’s not much to look at from the outside, but the food’s incredible. Do you like Italian?”

“Of course.”

“Sweet. Hang a left at the next light.”

They inched along to the next intersection. Britt was acutely aware of Caleb’s proximity. Every subtle shift in movement captured her attention.

He was here—riding shotgun—the familiar scent of his after-shave doing crazy things to her brain. After days of second-guessing, the agony of their separation was over. Now they were alone, and that presented a whole different set of circumstances.

As if he could read her mind, Caleb reached across the console and brushed her hair off of her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind if I look at you. I’m trying really hard to behave.”

A tremor of excitement tingled through her extremities. “Is that so?”

“When you walked onto the field tonight, it was all I could do not to … show how much I’ve missed you.” He reached for her hand, trailing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.

Undone by his touch, her foot pressed against the accelerator. The engine revved and they lurched forward. Heat flooded her neck. “I thought you said you were trying to behave?”

A laugh rumbled in his chest again. Britt snuck a glance from the corner of her eye, admiring the way the street light reflected off the plane of his clean-shaven cheek. She was in a heap of trouble.

“I can’t believe you’re here, that’s all.”

“That makes two of us.” She clicked on her blinker and eased into the center lane as the turn arrow switched from yellow to red.

“I guess we can thank Joe Caswell for that, right?”

She winced. “Oh, don’t say that. Poor Joe. He can’t catch a break. First we wanted to clobber him, now we’re glad that he’s still not well.”

“I feel bad for the guy. Honest. But if it weren’t for his illness, we wouldn’t have tonight.”

Britt looked his way again, savoring the spark of attraction that crackled between them. “I can’t argue with that. A few days apart sure beats a hundred and twenty-seven, right?”

“Seriously. That would’ve been miserable. What were we thinking?” Caleb shook his head, releasing her hand to brush back that stubborn lock of hair that kept falling across his forehead. A memory from their last kiss outside the airport flashed in her mind. How she longed to—

Caleb arched a curious brow. “Something on your mind?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Hmmm. I think I’d like to hear more about that.”

Britt averted her eyes, pretending to focus on the bumper in front of her. “Don’t distract the driver.”

“I have every intention of distracting you. Don’t worry your pretty self about that. But I should probably tell you that after you turn, Daniel’s will be on your right.”

She bit back a smile and made the turn, then glanced over her shoulder to check her blind spot. He was something else. Slowing down, she waited for a break in the traffic before nudging her blinker and claiming a spot in the right lane.

“It’s the brick building on the corner.” Caleb pointed through the windshield. “You can park around back.”

“Got it.” Britt slowed the car and turned into the small lot. Every space was packed. “Did we need a reservation?”

“I’ve never had a problem getting a table here. Let’s check it out.”

Britt couldn’t help thinking of Amanda. Was this their go-to for date night? Did movie stars even go on dates? She circled around the building.

One vacant spot remained near the dumpster.

It wasn’t pretty, but she’d take it. Caleb loosened his seat belt as she parked the car. Turning off the ignition, she removed the key and climbed out.

The aroma of garlic permeated the air. Her stomach growled. She was starving. Grabbing her purse, she dropped the keys inside. A rap song blasted from a car stereo nearby, the bass so intense she felt the reverberations in her sternum. She glanced over at Caleb as she shut her door. He’d eased out of the car but stood very still, staring at the building.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yep. There’s—memories here, that’s all.” He cleared his throat and then closed the door.

Britt circled around the back of the car, slipping the straps of her purse over her shoulder. She moved in close, tilting her head. “I guess we’ll have to make some new memories, then, won’t we?”

A slow smile spread across his face. He cupped her jaw in his hands and reeled her in, his mouth claiming hers. Eyes closed, she relished the urgency that unfurled as he deepened the kiss. She trembled, desire a taut coil in her belly.

Caleb’s hand slid from her cheek and wandered toward her shoulder, while his mouth roamed the curve

of her jaw. She slid one hand around his waist, exploring the taut curves of his muscular lower back.

When he lifted his head, chest heaving, she nearly whimpered with longing.

“Britt?” His voice was husky and the sound of her name on his lips sent another shiver of delight coursing through her. “Was that the kind of memory you had in mind?”

She flashed a smile. “It will do.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Caleb grunted and burrowed deeper under the covers, longing for a few more minutes of sleep. Echoes of Britt’s laughter, coupled with the memory of her lips on his—a blissful dreamland he wouldn’t give up without a fight. But the annoying marimba persisted.
Make it stop
. Flinging back the comforter, he fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. It slid out of reach. By the time he grabbed it, the ringing had quieted. Bleary eyed, he checked the caller ID.
Ben.

He scrubbed his palm across his face and dropped the phone onto the bed.
Hold on.
Did that clock say 9:40? He bolted upright, checking the time again.
Dang.
He had twenty minutes to shower and get to the coffee shop. The phone hummed at him, indicating Ben had left a voicemail. No doubt he wanted an update. On everything.

“Sorry, dude. Ladies first,” he said to his empty hotel room. Yawning, he stood and plucked a clean pair of boxers from his open suitcase on the floor. Man, he was sick of living out of that thing. At least Rod’s message gave him hope that he’d be someplace more permanent very soon. They still had to put it in writing, of course. But the Rockies’ initial offer sounded promising. If only he could predict how Britt might respond when he broke the news.

Showered and dressed in record time, he pocketed his wallet and phone. Out in the hall, he bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs. It was only two flights. He pushed through the door and entered the stairwell, his tennis shoes slapping against the thin carpet. If he jogged the two blocks to the coffee shop, he might make it on time.

The lobby was quiet, except for a guest speaking with the front desk attendant. He breezed through the automatic doors and out into the parking lot. The sun warmed his skin as he hit the sidewalk at a fast clip, his body welcoming the exercise after four days’ rest. It felt so good to come out of a hotel and not have to dodge cameras or aggressive reporters. A UPS truck rumbled through the busy intersection and Caleb waited for it to pass before he crossed with the light. He dodged a couple of dogs on leashes and a handful of women out for a leisurely stroll. A quick glance at his watch revealed his tardiness. While barreling people over wasn’t his thing, he stepped up the pace, eager for every possible minute he could spend with Britt.

A shop with a French-sounding name painted on the front window stood on a corner up ahead. He recognized Britt waiting outside, her long ponytail spilling over the shoulder of her pink T-shirt. Khaki shorts and aviator sunglasses completed the look—casual California girl out for her morning coffee.

“Hey.” He kissed her cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. I just got here.” She tilted her head. “Sleep well?”

He hesitated. The nightmares were gone. But he’d wrestled instead with a new dilemma. Exhausted, he’d fallen asleep early this morning and slept hard.

“What’s going on? Did Rod field an offer you couldn’t refuse?”

“Something like that.” He looked around at the brick buildings and vintage storefronts lining the street. “I’m loving the neighborhood. How did you find this coffee shop?”

“Wendy told me about it. Please don’t change the subject.”

He wished she’d take off those sunglasses so he could see her eyes … and gauge her expression. Kissing away the tension that lingered around her mouth wasn’t a bad idea, but something told him she wasn’t real receptive.

“Let’s grab breakfast first. I’m starving.” He held open the door and followed her inside. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and decadent pastries made his stomach rumble. Glass cases filled with croissants and scones dominated most of the shop’s space, while two overstuffed couches flanked a short coffee table in front of the window. Customers sat at round tables, heads bowed together in intimate conversation. In the corner, a man hunched over his laptop, an empty plate dotted with crumbs parked on top of his yellow legal pad.

“Bonjour,” the woman behind the cash register greeted them with a hint of a French accent. “May I help you?”

“Do you know what you want?” Caleb glanced at Britt, his gaze traveling to the neckline of her T-shirt and the delicate hollow near her collarbone. He averted his eyes before the image carried his mind someplace it shouldn’t go.
Coffee. Breakfast. You’re hungry, remember?

Britt ordered a fancy coffee drink and a chocolate croissant. He went with black coffee and a breakfast sandwich, fishing his wallet from the side pocket of his cargo shorts.

“Please sit down. I’ll bring it to you.” The woman swiped his credit card and passed it back to him.

“Thank you.” He put his card away and shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

Britt pointed to one of the couches. “This okay with you?”

“Sure.” He settled in one corner of the beige couch and she took the other. “You’re a little far away, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t had my coffee yet. Consider yourself warned.”

“Fair enough.”

“So let’s hear it,” she said. “What’s this breaking news of yours?”

“I’ve been offered a position with the Rockies organization.”

Britt gasped and leaned forward, clutching his upper arm. “Caleb, that’s great. I heard they were expanding their pitching staff.”

Caleb rubbed his hand across his chin, the stubble of a day’s growth rough under his fingertips. “That’s not why they want me.”

Her forehead wrinkled and she withdrew her hand.

The barista arrived with their coffee, setting two oversized green cups with saucers on the table in front of them. “Your food will be right out.”

“I don’t understand,” Britt said after the woman walked away.

“Special assistant to the General Manager is the official job title.”

Silence hung between them.

“Why would you accept an offer like that?” Britt asked. “Don’t you want to pitch again?”

Caleb surveyed her features, from the furrowed brow to the confusion clouding her eyes. Her initial enthusiasm had all but vanished. “I’ve been thinking that maybe there’s more to life than pitching in the majors. What if this arm injury happened for a reason?”

Britt reached for her coffee. “But you pitched so well in Japan. How can you walk away now?”

Caleb’s chest tightened. “Have you talked to any pitchers who’ve come back from Tommy John surgery? It’s not exactly a picnic.”

“But it’s possible, right? Guys come back in twelve months now, sometimes better than they were … before.”

He looked away. This wasn’t how he envisioned things playing out. “I feel like this is a huge opportunity for me, a chance to put down roots closer to home.”

“So this is about your family, then? What does Ben think you should do?”

“I haven’t told anyone else.” He found her eyes with his own. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. Eyes wide, she froze, her coffee halfway to the table.

The woman returned and set two pale yellow plates on the table, one with a croissant and the other with Caleb’s sandwich. His appetite waning, he nodded his thanks but left the food untouched.

“I—don’t know what to say.” Britt put her coffee down and pinched the end of the croissant between her fingers.

“Say you’re happy for me.”

“I am happy for you. If it’s what you really want.”

“What I want is some stability. To be close to the people I care about. That includes you.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m flattered that you’d consider me when making such a big decision.”

“But?”

She nibbled on a bite of her croissant and swallowed before answering. “Some things have changed for me, as well.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all.

“I might be in the running for a promotion, something that would keep me in Newark.”

“When were you planning to drop that bombshell?”

“I guess right now.”

Whoa.
Caleb flung his arm across the back of the couch and bit the inside of his cheek. He’d completely misread this. “That’s it, then? I’ll be in Colorado, you’ll be in Newark and then what?”

She retreated to the farthest corner of the couch, coffee cup in hand. “I—I don’t know. We just met. In a foreign country. Until now, we’ve had exactly one conversation about our future and that involved an All-Star break rendezvous. Now you’ve jumped ahead to—”

“I know it’s a lot to think about. But this job is my chance to stay in baseball without recovering from major surgery. I can’t pass this up.”

“What if things don’t work out for us?”

Her words knifed at his heart. “Is that a valid concern? That night in the park in Tokyo … last night at Daniel’s—I’m just a guy you’re with when it fits in your schedule?”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

“Answer the question. Am I?”