Ack. Yeah right. She didn’t think so. “I have someone, remember?”
“That dude is temporary, I can tell. You’re just having fun with him.”
“And you would be permanent? Give me a break.” She rolled her eyes.
“Hell no, I wouldn’t be permanent. I don’t do permanent. With anyone.” He grabbed his jacket which hung off the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “Think about it. Let’s talk it over with Zoe. I think it’s a great idea.”
Her jaw dropped open and she watched as Caleb walked away. The man just propositioned her for sex all in the name of their job, all for that stupid column.
No way would she sleep with him. She could barely stand talking to him and though she had been fast and easy with Justin that was the exception in her normal behavior, not the rule.
But now that she’d written those articles, did everyone think she was fast and easy? And yes, she’d wanted that column more than anything else for the last six months. Now she found herself unable to tell anyone, too embarrassed to confess to her friends and family she was the one writing it.
The sexual exploits of Sally Smith were being written, not Stephanie Shaw.
Life had just taken a turn for the weird.
Chapter Nine
Justin sat at the bar, glancing toward the front door what felt like every ten seconds. He checked his watch yet again, saw it was almost six and Stephanie was late. Like thirty minutes late.
His heart lurched in his chest, irritation causing him to sigh and swig back another swallow of beer. He wasn’t a big drinker especially during the season and it was a hard habit to break even though he wasn’t playing anymore.
Going with the team to Colorado had been a mistake. What he thought would be therapeutic had only made him wistful, pissed at the idiot who crashed into him and fucking ruined his career.
He felt lost, as if he had no options. Money was no object, he really shouldn’t complain. He had enough to last him ten lifetimes but he wanted to actually do something with his life. Not sit on his ass and count his dollar bills.
His life had been baseball since he was eleven and in Little League. He’d signed up because his grandma told him it was something he should do to occupy his time.
Once he’d started playing, he’d fallen in love with the game. It had helped him forget everything shitty in his life. Like how his mother had died when he was too young to remember her and his father had ditched him with his grandma because he couldn’t handle the responsibility of raising a child alone.
So his poor old grandmother had done it instead. And she’d done the best she could, considering she had zero income and a tired body and mind. Once he’d turned thirteen if Justin wasn’t in school or on the ball field, he was working. Earning money to help with groceries, utility bills, whatever needed to be paid that week.
It had felt good to give his grandma a brand new house his first season with the Miners. She’d passed five years ago, full of pride and love for him and he still missed her.
Once she’d died, he had no one. No one but his teammates and they were his friends, hell they were the closest thing to family he had. It never bothered him and he’d always been satisfied.
Lately he hadn’t felt satisfied whatsoever. He believed it had everything to do with Stephanie.
He’d missed her the entire time he was in Colorado. Almost hated himself for it, too. He’d resisted the urge countless times to call her just to hear her voice.
But what was happening between them had nothing to do with sharing and growing and everything to do with lots of hot sex.
So why did he want more? Why was he wishing she’d pull the usual female stunt he experienced and chase his ass as if she wanted to bag him? For once in his life, he was tempted to allow himself to get bagged.
And the woman he wanted didn’t want to do it. Talk about freaking ironic.
Glancing at the door yet one more time, Justin reached for his cell phone, ready to call her. He was worried. The weather had been for shit all day and now it was raining. For all he knew something could’ve happened to her. Something bad.
Quit acting like an old woman and sit tight. She’s fine.
He set the phone on the counter next to his glass and stared morosely at it, willing it to light up with a call from her.
But no call came and he waited for another fifteen minutes, silently seething until she finally came through the door, a wet and bedraggled mess with a frazzled expression on her face.
“I’m sooo sorry.” She stopped just in front of him, her shoulders sagging. Her hair was a mess, long pieces of it had fallen out of her ponytail and hung limp around her face, black mascara smudged a little beneath her eyes. “I took the bus here and we were stuck in traffic forever because of some accident and then I was frustrated and got off the bus before the stop and walked the rest of the way here.”
“You took the bus?” He stared at her, drinking in the white dress she wore. It should’ve looked prim with its ruffled neck and front, the little pearl buttons and tied fabric belt cinched around her waist. The skirt hit her well below the knees, the fabric filmy and dotted, though he could tell it had another layer of material beneath. She also wore red shoes. He’d noticed she had a thing for red shoes.