Bottom Of The Ninth: Bad Boys Redemption: Book Three Page 6

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep, I think he’ll get a scholarship if he doesn’t mess it up. This past year has been rough for him. On all of us, really.”

  “Sorry about your dad. When did he pass away?”

  “He died last May.” I concentrate on the brushstrokes, the skyline taking shape, and stave off the tears. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of him. “With Dad gone and Mom preoccupied with Anna, my brother has been acting out. He’s doing stupid stuff. Juvenile things, but still. Just dumb.”

  AJ takes a deep breath, and I swear he looks like he’s in a different place.

  “He’ll be fine. Just keep him focused on baseball.”

  “I do. Even before Dad died, I played ball with him. I couldn’t tell you how many two-men juggling drills we did.”

  He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. “You’re different than most girls.”

  I lower the palette and swivel to face him. “In what way?”

  “You’re driven and strong. Focused on other things besides name brands or hair. God, what is it with the girls’ obsession about their hair in this city?”

  I laugh. “I think you give me too much credit. I wouldn’t turn down a beautiful pair of Jimmy Choo’s.”

  “Not from what I’ve seen. You’re better than most.”

  My jaw drops, but I seem to have lost the ability to speak. No rebuttal comes to mind. At least, none that I can voice. If he knew the real me—what I have done—he’d think otherwise.

  “What do you want to do after you graduate? I bet you have it figured out.”

  I turn back to the painting and add the finer details. I don’t want to see his expression when I admit my dream. Most of my family doesn’t take my art seriously, which I’m okay with. Being an artist is risky, I get it. But for some reason, I don’t want AJ to think of me as the girl with pipe dreams.

  “The ultimate plan is to own an art studio.” I cut in some of the highlights, the painting almost finished. “I want to live near the beach. I’ve seen the Atlantic but wanted to explore other options. One of the reasons I chose Cessna was for the art department. It’s highly acclaimed and near the Pacific.”

  “Selling your art, hmm...”

  He grows quiet, seemingly pondering my words as I continue to paint. When he doesn’t say anything more, I continue. “I’d like nothing more than to paint and sell my art. But not just my work. Other artists too. Ones who paint abstract pieces to add variety. Sort of a mass appeal approach.”

  I bite my lip and brush the last stroke, keeping my focus on the painting. My heart races as I wait for his response. I wonder if I said too much. The slight shuffle of the lawn chair does nothing to calm me. Everyone back home supports my dream—I wouldn’t be at this school otherwise—but even their encouraging words were always followed with an underlying warning. “It’s good to have goals but keep them realistic” was a phrase repeated to me many times. My dad, who was my biggest supporter, still wanted me to be level-headed.

  Warmth surrounds me as AJ’s tall frame hovers behind me. He’s silent as he takes in the painting I finished.

  “With this much talent, you’ll do great.”

  He points to the cluster of cattails I painted along the pond, but I pay no attention to the painting. Instead, I focus on the ink covering his arm. The design is so complex I’d love to know if they hold any special meaning. His breath moves my hair as he leans closer to my ear. The surrounding air changes. It’s more charged and full of what-ifs. Like, what if I bend my rule of not dating unobtainable guys? Technically, I already have, but would the eventual heartbreak be worth the pleasure this incredible body is sure to give?

  “This is as beautiful as you. You’re very talented.” His hand sweeps along my arm and sends chills down my spine.

  Oh yeah, so worth the risk.

  “Thanks.” I place the brush down and angle my chin to where our lips are mere inches apart, but I can still see the deep brown speckles in his eyes.

  “Makes me wonder what other talents you possess.”

  My cheeks flame, but I’m more prepared for his dirty suggestions this time. “I have a lot of hidden talents.”

  A low moan escapes his mouth as his gaze dips to my lips. I think he’s about to take advantage of our proximity, and I’ll know exactly how those lips feel, but he backs away instead. I fight to hide my disappointment.

  “You hungry?” he asks.

  I want to scream, “No, kiss me instead,” but on cue, my stomach growls. “Guess so.”

  After cleaning the brushes, I join AJ on the blanket along the embankment, the sub sandwich and bag of chips a welcome sight. He hands me a bottle of water along with a paper cup.

  “I have something special for us to drink.”

  Half-expecting him to pull out a bottle of wine, I let out a laugh when his big surprise is nothing other than orange juice. “You following this up with vodka or something?”

  “No, Miss Underage, I’m not. What’s wrong with orange juice?”

  I smile. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect it.”

  “I don’t drink during the season. Coach has a strict policy against it. The last thing I need is to be caught giving alcohol to a minor.” He’s grinning, but there’s a level of seriousness to his tone.

  “I wouldn’t want to jeopardize the star catcher’s future.” I nudge his shoulder as he fills my cup. A little orange juice splashes on my finger. Not giving it a thought, I suck the droplets off the side and AJ takes in a deep breath, my every movement being noticed.

  He double blinks before responding. “You’re fine. But I can’t do anything too crazy.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to have a rap sheet going into the majors.”

  The corners of his mouth dip into a frown as he studies his drink for a second. He swirls the orange juice a few times before tipping it back and guzzling it.

  “What made you want to play baseball? Have you always played?”

  He runs his hand through his thick ebony hair. “I had certain influences in my life. Once my bat connected with the ball, I knew in the field is where I belonged.”

  “You’re certainly good at it.”

  “Thanks.”

  We finish eating in peace while the painting dries. I should ship this piece home with the others to free some much-needed space, but this particular one stays. It’s closet-worthy.

  “Go out with me tomorrow. Like a real date. Practice ends at six, so I can be ready by seven. We have away games this weekend and a few games during the week. Monday is the only chance I’ll get.”

  His eyes bore into mine awaiting my response. Warning bells should be alarming in my head and sounding around my heart with chains. When I decided to give him a chance, I didn’t expect to enjoy hanging around him this much. But dang it. He found a way to make me care. All this trouble he went through to make sure our date was unique can’t be ignored. I have a feeling my heart will not be safe around this guy.

  “I’ll be ready, but I do have an early class on Tuesday. Can we make it close to campus?”

  His chuckle is cute. “You’re too sweet. You like Mexican?”

  “Yeah.”

  “La Potosina is five blocks from campus. Would that be okay?”

  “That’d be great.”

  It doesn’t take long before we’re back on the road and pulling into the parking garage.

  “Shit.”

  I startle at AJ’s outburst. “What’s wrong?”

  Half a second is all it takes to notice the broken glass lying on the pavement. I glance up and notice several cars have been hit. “Oh no.”

  With shaky hands, I tug the door handle and exit the car the moment the wheels stop rolling. My heart sinks when the evidence points to the busted driver’s side window.

  “I’m calling the police now,” AJ says, but his voice is distant.

  Tears coat my eyes as I assess the damage. I don’t care about the CDs I had scattered around the console. A
re they even worth anything these days? Or the change I have saved for the toll roads when I trek back across the country. But my possessions in the trunk are another story. I swallow hard and reach for my keys. With everything I have, I force myself to open the trunk. A mixture between a gasp and wail rings my ears before I realize the sound is coming from me. Everything is gone. My knees buckle, and strong arms wrap around my waist, preventing my fall.

  “My dad” is all I get out before the tears fall and leave me speechless. AJ turns me into his hard chest, and I stand there sobbing, wrapped inside the protection of his arms.

  He doesn’t say a word, just protects me, as my body works through the pain of losing everything. When the last sob wracks through my body, I find my strength as anger seeps into the holes the emptiness left behind. I spin away from him and start searching the trunk for any memorabilia left behind. But other than an old blanket, there’s nothing.

  “What would they want with the stuff they took? The fishing lures I understand, but used ballerina shoes? How could that bring them money?”

  AJ remains quiet as guilt coats his eyes. He has nothing to be guilty for. They would’ve taken everything regardless if we were on a date or not. I continue to rant. “God, I hate a thief. There isn’t anything worse.”

  AJ visibly stiffens, and maybe I’m being beyond ridiculous, but the thieves took everything. Silly stuff that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else but me.

  “Why would they take my inspirational poster? They don’t need to be better thieves. They’re pretty good already. Everything’s gone.”

  “Since this isn’t the only vehicle, they were probably just looking for items they could make a quick buck on.” His voice is distant, and he steps back when the cops arrive.

  After the police take our statement, the drive back to the dorm remains quiet. It seems AJ’s demeanor cooled, but I’m too upset to talk about it. Or even care. He walks me to my dorm and gives me a hug.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say absentmindedly.

  AJ nods. “Get some rest.”

  I should cancel our date, but it’s the only positive thing I have right now, and if I’m honest, I’m still looking forward to it. As I walk to my room, I realize one thing. He never kissed me.

  Chapter Nine

  MIA

  Eight Years Ago

  “That should be all we need, Miss Gunner.”

  “Thanks for the quick fix. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

  The body shop owner places the clipboard back on the wall and proceeds to hand me the keys. “You were in luck. We happened to have a cancellation when your boyfriend called. He seemed adamant we fix it.”

  Blush swipes my cheeks. I really need to work on keeping my face neutral, but AJ isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t correct the man. AJ set me up with this place, and for that, I owe him a huge favor. I wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise. I wasn’t thinking too clearly yesterday.

  “The car is parked out front for you.”

  “Thanks again.” I check the time on my phone as I leave the repair shop. Six thirty. No way am I going to be able to make it to the dorm before seven.

  I get into my now damage-free car and dial AJ’s cell phone. I should’ve called sooner, but he had practice. I don’t think the coach allows them to carry their phones during drills.

  His phone rings once and then clicks to his sexy voice prompting me to leave a message. I oblige and inform him I’ll meet him at the restaurant. After hanging up, I map out the directions for La Potosina and laugh. How convenient. The restaurant is located across the street from my parking garage.

  As I enter the parking garage entrance, I blame the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach on the lack of food. It can’t be my nerves. I slip my parking card in the holder and proceed forward once the barrier gate arms clear. My stomach lurches again as I round the fourth-level corner. My gaze strays to my normal parking spot. The broken glass has been cleaned, but I picture the fragments everywhere. I press on the gas and proceed to the next level. There isn’t anything wrong with parking in a different spot.

  I find an empty space near the fifth level’s stairwell and check my phone. No messages. With five minutes to spare, I grab my purse and glance around my surroundings. My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t help wondering if the thief from yesterday is lurking in the shadows. I scan the vast area again. Movement in my periphery vision causes me to jump and let out a scream. The bird flaps his wings and flies off. I let out a shaky breath. I’m ridiculous. The thief is long gone.

  I find my metaphorical cajones and make it out of the garage—alive. I cross the road and enter the front of La Potosina.

  “One?” The hostess asks.

  “It’ll be for two. I’m meeting a friend. I’m not sure if he’s here yet, but the reservation is under AJ Gonzalez.”

  “No, ma’am. Would you like to be seated or wait in the bar?”

  “A table is fine.”

  I settle into the chair and check my phone. Nothing. I fire off a quick text telling him I have us a table. Five minutes after seven, he’s officially late with no response.

  The waiter places nachos in front of me and takes my drink order. I nibble on chips, trying desperately not to eat them all. Another fifteen minutes pass. I call my roommate.

  “I thought you were on your date?”

  “I am, but AJ isn’t here. I don’t know if his practice ran late, but he hasn’t stopped by our dorm room, has he?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I can go check outside if you want me to, but I’m sure, being who he is, someone would let him in.”

  “No, you’re right. Everyone knows him.”

  “Everyone but you.”

  “Shut up. If you hear from Blain, let me know.”

  “I’ll call him and call you back.”

  “Thanks.” I nibble on another chip and check my email, but other than Express having a forty-percent-off sale, nothing interests me. Thirty minutes past seven and he’s beyond late. I try his number again but get the same thing—one ring then straight to voicemail.

  My mind races. What if he got hurt on the way here? I’ve heard of students being hit by busses at crosswalks. Or worse yet, what if the creep is more than a petty car thief and mugged him?

  My phone rings, and the sliver of hope I was hanging on to dies when Sadie’s name flashes across the screen.

  “Hello,” I say, trying to hide the trepidation in my voice.

  “Um, practice didn’t run over.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention from her cautious tone. “Just tell me.”

  “When I asked Blain, he went out to the living room to ask the other guys if they’ve seen him.” She hesitates. Her boyfriend lives in the athletic houses. Each double-story complex houses four junior and senior athletes.

  The sickening feeling returns, and I glance at the nacho chip in my hand. Lack of food can’t be blamed this time. I harden my resolve and brace myself for the words I know will slice through me.

  “AJ was there.”

  I close my eyes and ask, “Doing what?”

  “Drinking. He’s pretty wasted.”

  The chip crumbles in my hand, crumbs falling over the table. I don’t drink during the season. Such a bullshitter.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be back soon.” I bite back the tears threatening to spill out and motion for the check. Oh my God, I knew better. How could he have done this to me? I call his phone one more time. After the one ring and straight to voicemail occurs, I realize he blocked my fucking number. Why? Was I that much of a lunatic yesterday? Jesus, I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me. The other couple of guys who stood me up, I saw coming, but not this time. This came from nowhere. After turning him down repeatedly, I finally cave, and he ditches me? After helping me get my car fixed? Who does that? I have to be the biggest idiot.

  I jump when my phone rings in my hand. Half-expecting it to be Sadie, I go to yell bu
t stop as female sobs fill my ear. “Hello?”

  “Mia.” More sobs continue.

  “Mom?” I back the phone away to confirm it’s her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I-It’s your sister.”

  Chapter Ten

  AJ

  Current Day

  My jaw ticks as my sister, Cara, waltzes into the kitchen, singing that Godforsaken song, “Walking on Sunshine.” If she’s not singing it, she’s humming it. All. The. Damn. Time. Today is extra grating since she’s oblivious of the bear ready to pounce. I pour myself a cup of coffee and channel the good vibes, like catching the high heat when the batter swings through for strike three.

  “Hey, big brother.” She grabs a mug and flanks my side. I turn and lean against the countertop.

  “You came in pretty late last night.” I take a sip and study her reaction. She rolls her eyes—typical gesture whenever I drill her about her whereabouts—and ironically, the childish behavior relaxes me. At least she doesn’t seem hungover.

  “Please, don’t start. I’m almost nineteen years old.” She grabs her mug and moseys over to the table. “I’m old enough to stay out late.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware. You better not have been with some guy.” It may be shitty of me to say, but Cara’s naive, and there are a lot of assholes out there. I should know. I am one.

  “Oh my God, I was with friends.” She huffs and plops into the seat. “I may not live on campus, but I have met some people, you know.”

  “I don’t like you running around that late. Mom trusts me to look after you when you’re here.” I don’t stop my grunt. She can call me overprotective all she wants, but I still don’t like her out at all hours of the night. Not on my watch.

  “You’re one to talk.” Her forehead scrunches into those question mark lines. She jerks her head backward and then scans the entire living space as if looking for something.