Chapter Eighteen
Liam swallowed down the growl burning the back of his throat as he read through Twitter.
It had been over two weeks of this shit. When the hell would they back off?
It was still off-season. Hopefully this stuff would die down before the season started, but it was unlikely, since all eyes would be on the Slammers.
He was going crazy being away from her. He didn’t even recognize himself. He was short with his family, miserable and restless at home. The only saving grace was texting her.
He shouldn’t be. They shouldn’t be. He could just imagine the reaction of his teammates if they found out he’d fallen for their boss. Before knowing she was our boss. But still. The guys would see him as part of the enemy camp. They wouldn’t loosen up around him, shoot the shit, and treat him the same. The ones who didn’t hold it against him would use it against him. If he got more playing time or anything that looked like preferential treatment, it’d be tied to Isla.
Teams were about being able to count on one another, about having one another’s backs. He knew that if he crossed this line with Isla, not only would it impact her job, it would jeopardize his relationships with the guys. Still, he couldn’t cut ties completely, and he knew that they were being hard on her.
She wouldn’t tell him much, and he knew she had Addison by her side, but he wanted to be there, too. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text.
Even the wait for her response had him pacing. At this rate, when he saw her at the stadium, he’d probably weep with freaking joy. What was wrong with him?
His heartbeat settled just from seeing her name on his screen. Nothing was wrong with him. He was just falling head over heels for a woman he couldn’t have and hardly knew. Though, over the last couple weeks, they’d shared enough texts that that no longer felt true. It felt high schoolish that those texts were the best parts of his day.
By some unspoken agreement, they didn’t call each other. He wasn’t sure he could handle hearing her voice and not want to be with her.
He shook his head. Consider him the new president of Sap Central. He had it bad. He’d been sure it would fade—this crush on his boss. But it hadn’t. Not even close.
Flopping back on the couch, he groaned. He knew the “since.” Staring at the ceiling, trying to get his emotions under control, he willed himself to call James, a cousin, a teammate. Talia. Anyone other than Isla. But that wasn’t what he did.
Part of him hoped she’d remind him they weren’t traveling this road, that they’d made this decision for a reason. One of them had to be strong, right? It felt like she was definitely the powerhouse of the two of them. Talk about irony.
Liam’s chest tightened and he sat up straight.
He chuckled. Screw this, he thought and dialed her number.
“You’re not supposed to call,” she said, her voice low.
Everything inside him, his heart, his lungs, his gut, tightened and burst with pleasure at the same time.
“I know,” he answered.
“It’s late. Why aren’t you in bed?”
He pictured her curled up on her couch, looking at numbers and spreadsheets. “I can’t sleep. Haven’t been able to for a while.”
“Have you tried warm milk?”
Liam laughed and sat forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “Not a fan.”
“How about a sedative?”
“Don’t like how I feel in the morning.”
“Hmm. A warm bath?”
Laughter shook his shoulders. “I’m not a woman.”
“You absolutely are not. But I feel compelled to mention not only women take baths. Also, I’m all out of ideas.”
A vision of her soaking in his two-person tub upstairs assaulted his brain. The idea of slipping in behind her, the warm water almost as inviting as the gorgeous woman… Liam almost groaned out loud and forced himself to take a deep breath.
He tried to call on the rational side of himself. This was the side that had him laser focused through training and once he made it to the show. The same part of him that avoided the club scene—other than Salvation—and close to home hookups. The one that answered “no comment” if he felt even the slightest bit cornered on a question.
This piece of himself had made him one of baseball’s golden boys. At one time, he’d thought that was everything. He wasn’t entirely sure when that had shifted, but he had a feeling it was about three weeks ago.
“Liam?”
He loved the way she whispered his name. “I’m all out of ideas, too, sweetheart. I want to see you. It’s late. The media isn’t at either of our doors. Can I come over?”
He could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears while he waited.
“What if someone sees you?”
Air whooshed out of his lungs. “They won’t. I’ll park behind the building and come in through the back entrance. I have a friend who lives there. Didn’t even realize it until last week when he popped by the bar. He’ll open the door for me.”
“I’m operating on too little sleep and too much caffeine, so I could be wrong, but isn’t that someone seeing you?”
It was so easy for her to make him smile. “I trust him. He’s a friend. And I just miss you. Do you want me to come over, Isla?”
“I really do,” she admitted in a quiet voice that captured another little chunk of his heart.
“I’ll see you soon.”
He couldn’t second-guess it and he couldn’t focus on the reasons he shouldn’t. Getting ready, he told himself that once he saw her, held her—just a platonic hug—he’d be able to settle and know she was okay. Then, he could go back to normal.
Whatever that was.
He wasn’t sure he even remembered what he felt like before Isla Bennett had walked into his bar and made him realize there was a whole world outside of baseball and maybe, just maybe, it was worth exploring.