Hard Ball (Stadium Series Book 1) Page 2

  “What about me?” Cam yells behind us.

  Josh groans, then turns to look back at Cam. “There are a bunch of girls asking for you by the karaoke machine.”

  His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning and he happily makes his way across the room, leaving me and my “great ass” behind.

  I turn just as Josh starts walking to the bar, and when we approach, I notice that Mel is still going strong with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. She catches my eye and raises a brow. I shake my head as Josh taps the solid bar top, getting the bartender’s attention. He pulls my gaze away from Mel by ordering me another drink, while ordering himself a water. That surprises me. I expected him to get an actual drink since I’m buying.

  “I’m Josh,” he says, turning toward me, his eyes traveling over me once again as I try and ignore the warm feeling that’s slamming into my chest.

  “I know who you are,” I admit, trying to mask my self-annoyance at wanting to climb this man like a tree. I am not attracted to ballplayers. Nope. I made that vow long ago and I won’t let someone like Josh, who, granted looks good enough to eat, ruin that. He says nothing, his eyes boring into mine as if he’s baiting me to continue.

  “You’re seriously going to make me do this?” Knowing he wants me to prove that I know how good he is, and that cocky smirk on his face makes me want to recite every major league stat I know on him and so I start. “You’re Josh Anderson, third baseman for the Hawks, but started your career in Florida.”

  He nods his head slightly and motions for me to continue.

  “You’re batting a solid .250 but you’ve dropped the last couple of weeks.” I give myself a high five when his eyes narrow at that last part. I didn’t have to say that he’s been sucking lately, that was just a dig for me alone. Clearly, he doesn’t like that he’s struggling and that makes me puff out my chest just a little bit more. “Your defense is always on point, a gold glove winner more than once if I remember correctly. Would you like me to keep going?”

  He says nothing for a few seconds as I become hyperaware of his eyes on me.

  “So, you’re a fan?” His voice lowers and I’m half expecting a smug look on his face, but what I get is apprehension.

  Interesting.

  “That’s what you got from that? You think I’m a cleat chaser?”

  Confusion crosses his features as he leans his elbow against the bar and rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

  “So, you’re not?” Just when I think I found a good one, he ends up just as egotistical as the rest.

  “No,” I start. “I don’t recite baseball stats on demand for fun. I’m a baseball fan. I like the game, not the players. Not even when they look like you.” Shit. Why did I have to say that last part out loud?

  “You like the way I look?” Those blue eyes darken, and my body responds accordingly.

  “You’re not horrible to look at,” I admit and then quickly try and deflect my attraction to him by saying, “Would you like me to offer you Cam’s stats, just to prove I’m not lying?” I can’t help the edge in my voice. This isn’t the first time someone has questioned my ability, and yet it still bothers me just the same.

  “No, I believe you.”

  We lapse into silence, both drinking the last of our drinks. I take a second to look around the room and when my eyes land on Cam surrounded by a group of women, I smile because from the smile on his face I can tell he’s loving every second of it.

  “So, baseball fan,” Josh says as my eyes swing back to meet his. “I never got your name.”

  “That’s because I never offered it to you.” He laughs and I can’t help the curve in my own lips, so I sigh, giving in. “It’s Harper.”

  “No last name?”

  That’s when the panic starts to set in. My last name on others’ lips always fills me with dread. Will they realize who I am, who my father was? Will they demand to know all the details, even when I don’t know all of them myself? So, I tend to avoid it like the plague, like right now. I shake my head at his question, not wanting to go anywhere near that can of worms tonight. I have enough bad memories to deal with already. “I feel like I should know yours since you already know mine…” Smooth. I give him an A for effort.

  “Well, to be fair, you wear yours on the back of your jersey for eight months out of the year.”

  “Touché,” he says, while motioning for another water. I go to say something but am cut off by a group of women that surround him, pushing me out of the way.

  And that’s my cue to leave.

  “Josh!” one screeches. “King told us you would be back in a few minutes and it’s been forever!”

  My fingers pull at the loose strings of my jeans and I will myself to get up and leave. But I don’t. These types are what Josh is used to. I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. He gravitates toward the ones that only want a story to tell in the morning, not the ones that dream of a white picket fence. I’m the one you cheat on with these kinds of girls. I’m the one you leave behind.

  Before I talk myself out of it, I finish the last of my drink—to be fair it was only ice, but it distracts me for a split second—and pick up my purse off the bar as my eyes search for Mel. No more waiting around. I’m going home, even if she doesn’t want to leave. Just as I’m about to step away, a hand wraps around my wrist. Turning, Josh eyes me with this adorable, confused expression that has me fighting a smile.

  “Where are you going?” he asks as my eyes look past his face and land on the line of girls that are shooting daggers in my direction.

  “I need to find my friend, let her know that I’m going home.”

  His eyebrows raise for a split second as the warmth of his touch seeps deeper into my skin.

  “Stay.” It’s so simple, that one word. And as much as I wish I was strong enough to do just that, play pretend as if I’m ready for a man like him. I’m not.

  “Sorry Josh, I need to go.”

  One of the girls clears her throat and it takes everything in me not to glance in their direction.

  “Plus, you seem to have other plans anyway.”

  He doesn’t even look back; he just shakes his head.

  “Nope. No plans. Please stay,” he pleads, and even though the heat from his fingers still lingers, I back up. Knowing I have to before I break my own rules.

  “I have to work in the morning.” It’s an excuse, a true one but still an excuse, and from the defeated look that crosses his face, he knows it too.

  “Can I at least get your number?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I admit, slowly walking backward. His eyes never leave mine and I take a deep breath, knowing this might be the last time I see him in the flesh. “But you can do me a favor.”

  He raises a single eyebrow, smirking.

  “Work on that swing. Last time I watched a game, you’re timing seemed off.” I’m half teasing. I do think his timing is off, and there’s not a question in my mind that he already knows this. But that look of shock on his face, the one that tells me a woman has never really talked to him like that before, is worth it.

  “You wound me!” He chuckles as I give him a small wave and make my way to the back of the bar in search of my best friend and try not to think about the fact that I might have turned down a very good thing.

  I finally find her in the bathroom, applying more makeup and giving herself a once-over in the mirror. “Can we leave now?”

  She smirks at our reflection as she applies even more lipstick. I know the look she’s giving me, and I know it means she’s not going anywhere.

  Great.

  “You’re not leaving… are you.” It’s not really a question because I know the answer. And as she shakes her head, placing the tube of lipstick back into her purse, I take a deep breath. “Mel, please. Let’s just go home. I’m tired, I’m not even a little bit buzzed, and I have to open the gym tomorrow.”

  She rolls her eyes, knowing ho
w much I love my sleep and knowing how awful I can be if I don’t get enough of it.

  “I can’t leave, Harp, I am this close…” She holds out her fingers inches apart from each other. “To banging the Henry Cavill wannabe out there. You know it’s been my dream to sleep with a movie star…”

  When I give her a questioning look, she laughs.

  “Well, it’s the next best thing! If I can’t have the real thing, why can’t I have fun with the carbon copy?”

  I roll my eyes as I lift myself up and sit on the counter next to the sink.

  “What about the blond guy? You guys seemed to be quite chatty…” The inflection isn’t lost on me as I avert my eyes, looking through my purse for my phone, knowing that even if Mel stays, I’m leaving. “He seemed hot and very into you!”

  There is no way in hell I’m telling her about Josh. I’ll never hear the end of it, and I’m not ready to open that door. Not tonight.

  “Before you start planning the wedding, I’m not into him,” I lie. I’m very into him, which is the fucking problem. She eyes me skeptically but realizes I’m not giving anything up, so she goes back to inspecting herself in the mirror.

  “You know, I saw the way he was looking at you. It wouldn’t be hard to convince the man to rock your world for one night… no strings.”

  I shiver at the prospect, but I know without a doubt that one night with Josh Anderson would never be enough.

  3

  Josh

  Fuck.

  Watching her walk toward the back of the bar and into the bathroom is one of the best and worst experiences of my life. Who the fuck is this girl? All I can think about is the fact that she smells like strawberries and her skin felt like silk against my fingers.

  “Josh!” someone screams from behind me.

  It takes everything I have not to tell them to leave me the fuck alone so I can go after her and feel what that gorgeous blonde hair feels like running through my fingers.

  To my left is the same group of women that interrupted Harper and me earlier, and I try and fight the scowl that threatens to take over my features.

  “Do you want another drink… or something to… eat?” a brunette with huge tits asks as she pushes herself against me. I know what she’s offering is not food and I couldn’t be less interested. I take a long swig of my water as my eyes raise to hers.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” I didn’t even want to be here tonight. It’s our only day off this week and Cam decided it would be a good idea to do a “team bonding exercise” which is just us hanging out and trying to get laid. That’s not me. My idea of a good time does not consist of coming to a bar with a bunch of cleat chasers, trying to fend off advances. All I want to do is go find the girl who insulted my game and made me fantasize about what she would look like on her knees.

  “You sure, sugar?” she whispers, her hand sliding strategically up my thigh and getting dangerously close to my zipper.

  My hand grips hers before it can go any further and from the blazing look in her eye, I know she thinks this is her shot. She leans forward just as I push her hand away.

  “Darlin’, if I wanted what you were offering, we would already be fucking in a bathroom stall.”

  She gasps and I berate myself for a split second, thinking it was too crude, but at a certain point you just get fed up with the advances, and right now I’m fed up.

  “Geez, I didn’t think you were the asshole of the bunch…”

  At those words, I see a flash of blonde across the room and I look over only to see Harper walking toward the front doors. God, she’s stunning. Even in jeans and a flowy top, she outshines all of these women by a million.

  As if she hears my thought, Harper’s gaze meets mine and the room seems to tilt on its axis. The smirk on her lips has me getting off my stool, ready to go after her. However, the illusion is shattered when another perfectly manicured hand lands on my chest.

  This can’t be happening.

  What, are they multiplying?

  I look down for a split second to remove the hand from my chest, the eyes of a pleading woman having no effect on me whatsoever. I shake my head, lifting her hand off my body and making sure she gets the point of never touching me again.

  She just rolls her eyes, muttering, “You had your chance,” before telling her girlfriends to follow.

  Once they’re out of sight, my head lifts and my eyes search the room for that blonde hair I’ve come to crave, but I see nothing. My eyes scan the entire bar, hoping by some miracle that she’s waiting for my eyes to meet hers once again, but this isn’t one of my mother’s sappy romance novels.

  She’s gone.

  “Why does it look like someone killed your dog?” King asks with a slap to my shoulder. I chuckle despite my souring attitude, shuffling off his embrace. “What happened to blondie? Now that one would have been fun to crack…” I usually find King amusing. He’s a twelve-year-old stuck in a twenty-seven-year-old body. But right now? Right now, he’s getting on my last nerve.

  “Fuck off, King,” I growl, pinning him with a hard glare. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. Have some fucking respect.” By the look on his face, I can tell he knows what’s happening and he’s smart enough to mind his own business. For now. I’m not one to stake claim to anything, especially a woman, but Harper is a game changer. I know she is.

  “Sorry, man, didn’t realize she meant anything to you.”

  I’ve been surrounded by women my entire career, and I can say for a fact that none of them have made me feel a fraction of what Harper did in the span of ten minutes.

  “Maybe she does,” I whisper to myself, cringing when I realize King probably heard every word.

  “Are you telling me that the Josh Anderson has a thing for someone? And that someone wants absolutely nothing to do with him?”

  “How do you know she wants nothing to do with me? Did she say something to you?” God, it’s like I’m back in high school. King shakes his head.

  “Not about you specifically. But when I was hitting on her…”

  I growl, hating the idea of him even being near her.

  “Calm down there, big guy, nothing happened.”

  I don’t know why I feel a sense of relief wash over me, but it does.

  “When I was hitting on her, she told me she doesn’t date baseball players.”

  That’s oddly specific. I must look extremely confused because King starts laughing.

  “Right? I thought the same thing, but she told me it was one of the reasons she wasn’t interested.”

  “One of the reasons? What was the other one?”

  “I was too good-looking for her.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing for a fact that is not the real reason. I turn, getting the bartender’s attention and paying my bill as well as Harper’s since she forgot. I don’t mind, I would have paid for her drinks all night if she stayed and talked to me.

  “I gotta go,” I say as King smiles and waves another group of women over to the bar.

  “You serious? You let one chick ruin your night…”

  “She didn’t ruin my night. If you had listened to me before we left tonight, you would know that I didn’t even want to come tonight.”

  “Pussy. You’re just sulking because a girl turned you down.”

  “She turned you down first.”

  A burst of laughter comes from him and he slaps me on the back and turns toward the group of women. King is many things, but right now he might be right. It’s been a long time since I’ve been rejected, but right now it doesn’t feel like the end. I know Harper felt what I felt. I know she felt that tether between us.

  I will see her again.

  4

  Harper

  When the cool May breeze hits my exposed skin, I pull my jacket tight against my body. I need to get the image of Josh with those girls out of my head. When I walked through the bar, it took every ounce of my self-control to not look in his direction, yet at the la
st minute, I caved, thought one glimpse wouldn’t hurt. Boy, was I wrong. I’m not even supposed to like this guy. Rule number one: do not fall for good-looking and charming baseball players. And here I am standing outside alone, wondering why I have that rule in the first place.

  “Fancy seeing you here.” I flinch at the voice I’ve spent the last few days trying to forget as his heavy footfalls echo behind me.

  “Cole,” I say, stopping in my tracks but facing away from him. “What are you doing here?” I don’t want to see that smug look on his face. I don’t want to get that feeling deep down in my gut that I wasted two years of my life on a douchebag that cared more about his appearance than the woman he claimed to love.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  I try not to gag at the words because he’s full of shit. He’s just mad that I’m ignoring him and not answering his calls and texts.

  “You’ve been ignoring me. How else am I supposed to talk to you?”

  And there it is. His real motive. I detect a hint of anger in his voice that begins to grate on my nerves. He’s angry? When he was the one that threw our relationship out the window just so he could get between the legs of a willing female that batted her eyelashes his way.

  “Come on, baby. I know you’ve missed me…”

  I bark out a laugh, turning with a smug smirk on my face when I stumble. His eyes are dark, angry and unlike anything I’ve seen from him before. He’s still classically handsome, with his jet-black hair styled to look like he just rolled out of bed, but I know on good authority that it took him at least twenty minutes. He’s in dark wash jeans and a crisp white T-shirt that probably costs more than my rent. He reminds me so much of his father, a man that hated me from the second we met and didn’t pass up an opportunity to voice that opinion loud and clear. Being chief of police, Mr. Mitchell is not your typical father. He’s mean, controlling, and from what I’m witnessing right now, has passed down those traits to his son.

  “Seriously?” The annoyance in my tone is clear as I hold back the eye roll that so desperately wants to happen. “You expect me to talk to you after what I walked in on?” The frustration is building and I know that if I don’t walk away soon, I’ll say something I regret.