Chapter 4

Buying a house sight unseen—internet pictures didn’t count—suggested stupidity or blind trust. Ryan Walker was neither stupid nor blindly trusting. He stood in front of his two story, impressed with his own judgment for the first time in a long while. He wouldn’t cop to it out loud, but having his older brother like it just as much made him feel better about the spur-of-the-moment, get-out-of-dodge purchase. The wide porch didn’t wrap all the way around, but it was large enough for a couple of nice chairs. Though only one was necessary. The inside was as open and well kept as the outside and this area of town in general was pretty damn nice. Except for the dump next door.

He hadn’t made the best impression on his new neighbor last week when he’d seen her pull up. Truthfully, he’d been an ass to Frankie. Her name had to be short for something. It didn’t match the graceful curve of her neck or the silky smooth look of her skin. She was all petite curves and gorgeous blond hair. He hadn’t meant to be a prick to her, but it was too late now. For that and a whole shit load of other things.

“You meet the neighbor there yet?” his brother, Max, asked him. Max slipped his phone into his pocket and leaned against Ryan’s truck, gesturing with his chin toward Frankie’s house. Ryan checked his watch. They had a bit of time before he had to get Max to the airport.

“Yeah. I ran into her last week. I wasn’t real…neighborly though so she’s probably not going to be coming around asking to borrow a cup of sugar.” Ryan leaned against his truck, feeling the weight shift under him. He rubbed a hand over the tension at the base of his neck.

“That-a-boy,” Max said, nudging him, hard, in the shoulder. “Good to know you can still charm the women. She recognize you?”

Ryan frowned at his brother: One of the only people he still liked. One of a very small selection he could trust.

“Didn’t seem to. I haven’t been out much yet, but so far, I’ve stayed under the radar.” Ryan picked up a handful of gravel and started tossing it toward the trees bordering his yard and Frankie’s.

“That’s not gonna last, you know,” Max said, copying Ryan. Ryan grinned, putting more effort into the throw.

“Want me to show you how to throw like a man?” Ryan lobbed a rock far into the jungle of weeds behind his neighbor’s house. Max laughed, tossing his rock in the same direction.

“Sure. And maybe after, I’ll teach you how to hang onto a woman.”

Ryan lowered his arm and Max scrunched his face in regret. “Ry. Sorry, man. That was funnier in my head.”

“She called the other night.” Ryan tossed the rest of the rocks to the ground and dusted his hands on his jeans.

“What for and how’d she get your new number?”

“To ask me about the reality series and through my asshat agent, Wecker.”

Max shook his head and whipped the rest of his rocks. “You fired him.”

Ryan gave a humorless laugh. “Now you see why. What the fuck, Max? Even after I walk away from everything, I still have people I trusted selling me out.”

The only thing Ryan had ever wanted to do was play baseball. He’d worked his ass off to make it happen. Now he felt like he couldn’t even think about it without an ache pushing against his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe.

“I thought you were crazy for doing this. Fueling the wildfire by making everyone think you had a reason to run. But I think it’ll be good for you. It’s a good place. Things will die down and you can come home,” Max said.

Ryan shook his head. “There’s nothing there for me now.”

“Just your family. Thanks, jackass.”

Ryan gave a rough laugh and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “You’re all better off if I’m not there. Just keep saying, “no comment.” And let me know if the press or anyone else gets out of hand. Especially with mom and Shay. I can hire someone.” Fuck. He hated this. He walked away before Max could answer, grabbed his brother’s small travel case off of the porch, and tossed it into the backseat of the Rover.

“I can take care of my own damn wife and I dare the media to get in mom’s face. I get why you came here. I said that. But don’t be stupid. You need us, you say so. We’re here.” The sincerity in Max’s tone made Ryan’s heart clench like a fist.

Ryan breathed in the smog-free air. There’d be a few perks to living in the middle of nowhere, as opposed to LA. His eyes navigated to Frankie’s house again. It was like a car wreck; he couldn’t look away. And it was better than looking at Max and dealing with the concern he’d see etched on his face. Or worse, pity. He didn’t want either. He just wanted to start over.

“We should get going. Thanks for helping me get settled. Wish you’d brought Shay. She’s a hell of a lot better at cooking than you are.”

Max laughed and clapped Ryan on the shoulder. “She’s better at most things, man. This is why they say ‘better half.’”

“It’s not hard to be better than you, bro.” Ryan grinned, tired of tangling himself up in memories and misery. He smacked his hand against Max’s stomach and shook off the rest of his mood.

“You’re just jealous.” Max laughed, walked to the passenger side, and climbed in, a stupid smile on his face. Ryan kept his lips turned up while getting behind the wheel. He wasn’t about to admit his brother was right.

West Lake, Minnesota was one small town in a cluster of them. As Ryan drove his Range Rover back from dropping Max off at Grand Rapids Airport, he kept his window rolled down despite the chill that had really started to take root this morning. The air smelled different than in California. Trees instead of sand. Earth instead of salt. He didn’t mind it. He just wasn’t used to it yet. But he had plenty of time to acclimate. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with all of his time, but he had some ideas.

“Should have bought a fixer-upper,” he mumbled, turning on the satellite radio. He laughed to himself, thinking of the one next door. How was she going to fix the place? Not his problem.

One Republic blasted over the speakers, loud enough that the beat should have kept his thoughts from straying to how less than a year ago, he’d been playing pro ball and having a kick-ass season. He took a right on Weaver Creek Lane and marveled at the quiet. It seemed louder than the chaos of California. He was making a list of things he needed to pick up, order, and buy when he pulled into his circular driveway. The detached garage, a mini replica of the house without the porch, was one of the main features he’d liked. He might park his truck in there if the bad weather hit, but he hoped not to.

Since he was already dressed casually in jeans and a Henley, he grabbed his electric trimmer from the garage. The breeze was making the trees dance back and forth in a slow rhythm. The hum of the motor vibrated against his gloved hands as he walked around the edge of the yard. He’d used the ride-on mower about a week ago and enjoyed it more than he should have. Jesus, he’d owned a Porsche GT2 RS, the fastest car ever built by the company, and still, he’d grinned like a fucking school kid on the mower. He hadn’t thought he’d be okay leaving LA behind, but being here, enjoying his house, the land, the space, he realized he’d never loved California. He’d only loved baseball. Where he was while he played just didn’t matter.

As he edged near the property line, he caught sight of toned, shapely legs swinging from the branch of a tree. His neighbor was doing pull-ups. On a tree.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ryan said the words to himself, his finger sliding off of the trigger. Frankie hadn’t heard him. Her earbuds’ cord was connected to the iPod strapped to her arm. He repeated his question, louder, and she startled, dropping from the limb she’d been holding. Pulling her earphones out, she smiled and gave a surprised laugh. Lust curled tight in his stomach at the sound. Which pissed him off since he didn’t need more complications in his life.

“Hey. Didn’t see you there, neighbor.” She wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. Strands of hair were escaping the ponytail sitting high on her head. She put her hands on her hips, gulping in air, still smiling. His eyes roamed over the tone and definition of her arms. Arms weren’t supposed to be a turn on. They were just something to have wrapped around you. Along with legs. But legs were a turn on. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her arms. They led up to sleek shoulders and a graceful collarbone. When his eyes met hers, she was grinning and he knew he’d been caught looking.

“You’re doing pull-ups on a goddamn tree?”

“Um, it’s my tree,” she said, looking back and forth between him and the tree. Small as she was, the tree didn’t look like it could hold its own branches, never mind a person’s weight.

“Actually, it’s smack in the middle of our property line. So stay the hell off it and get a pull-up bar.”

She rested a hand on the bark and smiled at him with something like fire flashing in those blue eyes.

Her breath was a bit uneven, but firm. “I’ve never shared a tree with anyone. It feels like a big step.”

He bit back a smile. “Funny. This tree needs to be cut down. It’s rotted.” He kicked at the trunk to show her what he meant.

“Don’t kick our tree,” she said, not even trying to hide her smirk.

“It’s not safe.” Jesus. She was hard to be irritated with. Which, oddly, only irritated him more.

“And as much as I appreciate your neighborly concern, Ryan, I can take care of myself. And our tree. See, my home gym isn’t quite set up yet so I’m using what’s available. If you want, we can work out a schedule for tree use.” There was as much sarcasm in her stance as in her tone.

This time, the grin spread before he could stop it.

“You’re feisty.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah. But it’s still not safe. I have an extra pull-up bar in my garage. You put it in the frame of a doorway. I’ll grab it and bring it over,” he said, hoping the gesture served as an apology. Which he was man enough to admit she deserved from him.

Frankie’s eyes widened and she took a step back, wariness overshadowing her amusement.

“No thanks. I’m not ready for visitors.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on coming for tea.”

She gave a rough laugh. “I don’t need anything from you, Ryan. I’ll pick another tree. Or do push-ups.”

She backed away, the unease in her eyes fascinating the hell out of him. She didn’t want him over. And not because he was a jerk. She waved one perfectly shaped arm over her head as she went back to her house. He turned the weed trimmer back on, purposely turning his body in the other direction. He wasn’t going to stand around and watch her go, even across her yard. He’d never watch a woman leave again. Once was enough.