The Trade Page 8

  Milly takes a seat on the bucket and tosses a ball in front of her, her lips twisted to the side.

  “Why don’t you come to St. Croix with us?”

  “What?” I ask, unaware Milly was going to St. Croix.

  “The boys like to go on vacation right before the season starts, a way to get in one more relaxing moment before they’re required to report to spring training. This year, they picked St. Croix. We leave in two weeks. You should come. It would be the perfect time for you to relax and forget about everything.”

  “Who’s going with you?” I ask, the idea of hanging out on a beach before spring training sounds incredibly appealing, especially since I feel like I’m living in purgatory, Natalie always on my mind.

  “Knox and Emory. Jason and Dottie. And then I think their friend Holt was supposed to come, but his wife is ready to pop with their second baby, so they had to cancel, leaving a room open. I’m sure they’d love to have you come along.”

  I mull it over. “Is this some couple’s bullshit thing? Being the third wheel isn’t going to make me feel better.”

  She chuckles and shakes her head. “No. It’s nothing like that. It’s literally us relaxing, drinking, swimming, and having fun. The past few I’ve been on have been super chill. The more I think about it, the more I know it will help you clear your head.”

  “I’ve never been to St. Croix,” I say, knowing what my answer will be.

  “It’s a tropical paradise, has bright blue water to swim in, and some breathtaking snorkeling locations . . . at least, so I’ve heard. We’re staying at the best resort on the island, and it’s right on the water. We have boat tours planned, sunset sails, massages, and lots and lots of drinking in our near future.”

  Smiling, I say, “You had me at snorkeling.”

  Returning the smile, Milly stands and waves at me to do the same. “Now that your head is clear, let’s get back to work. You owe me a bucket of solid hits. No way are we leaving this batting cage with the half-assed effort you’ve given me.”

  I pick up my bat and get into position, thankful that Coach Milly is back, ready to whip me into form. She’s compassionate, a good listener, and a damn good—tough—coach. I wouldn’t expect anything else from my little sister.

  Chapter Seven

  CORY

  “I’m excited you’re coming with us,” Carson says as we make our way to our gate. “Jason’s going to freak when he sees you.”

  “You didn’t tell them?”

  Carson shakes his head, his hand clutched tightly to my sister’s hand. “Nah, thought it would be better to see Jason’s reaction in person. I’ve never seen a grown man outwardly weep over another grown man like Jason does when you’re around. He said one of the things that eased his mind about being traded to the Rebels was that you were on the team. He idolizes you, man.”

  “As if you don’t,” Milly snorts next to him.

  “Don’t bust his balls in front of me, Mills. Leave the man with some dignity.”

  Carson laughs but I know he’s slightly embarrassed. When he was first dating Milly, I saw him try to hide his giddiness whenever I was around. He always played it cool, showed he was impressed with me as a ballplayer, but he made it clear that my sister is far more important to him than her celebrity brother. It’s what won me over with Carson. That, and how much he truly cares about my sister and worships the ground she walks on.

  “There’s Emory and Knox,” Milly calls out, when we reach the gate to our private plane.

  Knox looks up from where he was gently stroking Emory’s cheek and spots us. When his eyes land on me, he lights up. He pulls me into a man hug and says, “Damn, I didn’t know THE Cory Potter was coming. Jason is going to pee himself.”

  I’m starting to think I might need to keep a safe distance between me and Jason with how much he seems to adore me.

  “Hey Emory,” I say to Knox’s girlfriend. “How are you feeling?”

  She touches her small pregnant belly and smiles dreamily at me. “Wonderful. Thank you. I’m so excited you’re coming with us.”

  “Me too. Milly—”

  “Holy fucking shit, what is Cory Potter doing here?” Jason shouts, as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my body, his hands cupping my chest. “Christ, you smell good.” I feel him take a deep breath of my back. “Why do you smell so nice? Dottie, babe, smell him.”

  “Please stop smelling the man. You’re embarrassing yourself,” Dottie says, a slight shake to her head but admiration in her eyes. She might make it seem like he annoys her but in reality, it’s all love. He softens her hard edges. Total opposites, but they complete each other.

  Releasing me, Jason says, “You’re really coming with us?”

  “Yup. Milly said you guys had an extra room in the block, so I thought I’d—”

  “Oh my God, you guys, there was a couple in the bathroom totally doing it. They were shaking the stall . . .” Natalie’s voice fades as she sees me. Her face turns red and she quickly straightens up. “Cory, hi. I didn’t . . . I wasn’t aware you were coming too.”

  Milly steps up and says, “That was my fault.” I can see the guilty and apologetic look on her face when she makes eye contact with me, because neither one of us was expecting Natalie to be here; the one person I was trying to get away from. “I invited him, thinking it was okay if he took Holt’s spot.”

  Dottie motions between her and Milly. “Great minds think alike. I offered Holt’s room to Natalie too.”

  Well . . . this just got awkward.

  And since this is a non-couples’ trip that really is a couples’ trip, I’m wondering when Natalie’s husband is going to appear, because fuck. What could be better?

  Before anyone can say anything, I step up and say, “I can head home, it’s no big deal. Natalie, I’m sure you deserve a nice trip.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Knox steps in. “There’s plenty of room on the plane. The more the merrier.”

  He pats me on the back and leads the group down the hallway to the gate agent who’s going to walk us out to the waiting plane.

  Knox and Emory lead the way, followed by Jason, Dottie, and Natalie, while I hang back for a second.

  Hand in hand, Carson and Milly start to walk toward the plane when Milly pauses, waiting for me. When she sees that I’m not moving, she tells Carson to go on.

  Sensing Milly’s need to be alone with me, Carson presses a quick kiss to the back of her hand, takes her bag from her shoulder and heads toward the plane. Once Carson’s out of earshot, Milly presses her hand to my forearm and says, “I’m so, so sorry, Cory. I had no idea.”

  There’s so much regret in her eyes that they start to water.

  I quickly pull her into a hug and say, “Mills, it’s no big deal, you don’t have to get upset about it.”

  “I should have asked. I just assumed we were going to leave the room empty. I feel awful.”

  “Don’t. It’s okay.” I take a deep breath. “But I do think I’m going to head back to my apartment. I don’t want to intrude—”

  “Please don’t leave. I’ll worry about you the entire time while I’m supposed to be on vacation.”

  “I’ll hang with Rian and Sean,” I say, already not liking the idea. I love our brothers, but being Irish twins, they have a bond just like Milly and I do and being a third wheel to their actual bromance sounds just as appealing as tickling my balls with a rusty knife.

  Milly pulls away and shakes her head. “You and I both know they’re just going to make you work at the facility, and the last thing you need right now is to work. Please come with us.”

  “There is one room left, so what do you think is going to happen with that room? Am I supposed to share it with Natalie?”

  “Of course not.” Milly takes my hand and starts walking me toward the plane. “It’s a huge resort, Cory, we’ll get another room. We might not be near each other, but at least you’ll have some privacy. Think of it this way. You get to go on
vacation and keep your distance from Natalie. It’s a win-win.”

  “That’s what you say now.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure?” I ask, tapping my credit card on the sleek marble countertop.

  “Yes, sir, I’m sorry. We’re all booked. We have a large conference taking place this week. They’ll be indoors all day, not taking up pool space, but there are unfortunately no more rooms.”

  Just my fucking luck.

  I take the key card he gave me to the suite that was supposed to belong to Holt and his wife, and head to my group who already have cocktails in hand, luggage taken to their rooms by the bellhop.

  “From the look on your face, I’m going to guess they put you on the opposite side of the resort, huh?” Jason asks. “Bastards.”

  If only that was the problem I was currently facing.

  “Actually”—I suck in a deep breath, my eyes on Milly—“they didn’t have any extra rooms. They’re all booked.”

  “What?” Knox asks, looking at the front desk and then around the resort. “There’s barely anyone here; they don’t have one extra room?”

  I shake my head. “Apparently there’s a conference here this week.”

  “Oh,” Jason says, looking between us. “Huh.”

  And just like that, the silence in the group grows as we all do the calculations in our head. Three couples . . . three couples who want to be alone in paradise, one single guy, and one married girl.

  Four rooms.

  Even if I try to figure it out in my head, I can’t think of a possible scenario that would work.

  “Well, I can share—”

  “Don’t even fucking say it,” Carson says, cutting Milly off. “This is my last hurrah before the season. I’m sure as shit not going to spend it in a scenario where my wife isn’t sharing a bed with me.”

  “Carson—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I say. “I’d be the same way.” Glancing at Natalie, I give her a small smile and hand her the key card. “You can take the room. I’ll go to another resort.”

  “This is the only resort on this side of the island,” Jason says in a whiney voice, and then, “I think I might cry.”

  “Pull it together,” Dottie says with a giant roll of her eyes. “This isn’t a problem. We’re all adults. Natalie and Cory can share a room. It’s a suite, after all, with a pull-out couch. They’ll be fine.” She’s so casual about it, but what would Natalie’s husband think about this? And why wouldn’t Jason be angrier that I’d be sharing a suite with his married sister? Does he simply trust me that much?

  Hell, if Natalie were my wife, there’d be no way in hell I’d be okay with her sleeping in the same hotel room with another man for a week in a tropical paradise.

  From under her long, black eyelashes, Natalie looks up at me and shrugs. “I mean, I’m okay with it if you are. Not like we’ll be staying in the room long; it’s just a place to sleep.”

  Just a place to sleep. Okay.

  Of course, she would see it that way, because she’s not the one crushing on a married individual.

  She doesn’t see how my breath catches in my throat when she walks into the room.

  She doesn’t hear the constant thoughts of her that run on repeat in my mind.

  And she has no fucking clue about the dirty images I’ve conjured of her in my mind late at night.

  “Then it’s sorted. Let’s get some cocktails,” Dottie says, taking Jason’s hand in hers and heading toward the bar.

  “Knox and I are going to get settled,” Emory says, but from the way Knox is leaning into his girl, his mouth moving up her neck, I’m going to guess settled actually means have sex.

  “Us too,” Carson says, his hand gripping Milly’s hip tightly. A protective instinct kicks in to remind the guy that she’s my sister, but I keep my mouth shut. They’ve been married for years now. She’s not mine to protect anymore.

  Jason stops Dottie’s pursuit to the bar and says, “Babe, they’re all going to have sex, why are we getting drinks? Let’s bang.”

  Dottie pauses and looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Why get a cocktail when I can have your cock in my mouth?”

  Jesus.

  Jason’s eyes widen and then turn dark. He pulls her straight to the elevators, and I fear for all the bellhops delivering their luggage.

  Before I can take my next breath, all three couples are on their way to the elevator bank and mauling each other with their hands, leaving me in the lobby with Natalie.

  Well . . . this is awkward.

  Scratching the back of my neck, I look down at her and say, “Need a drink?”

  “Yes,” she answers on a swallow, and just like that, we both head to the bar.

  * * *

  Sips.

  Places drink on the bar.

  Stares at pool.

  Sips.

  Pushes hair behind ear.

  Sips.

  Purses lips.

  Swallows . . . turns toward me.

  “You know, we can talk.”

  I smile uncomfortably before bringing my beer to my lips. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “How awkward and stiff you’re being. It’s just a room, Cory. It’s not like I’m going to poison you in the middle of the night.”

  I take back my beer and smile. How can she be so casual about this? And where the hell is the guy anyway? I’m livid, for him. Idiot.

  I’ve seen Natalie three times now and no husband? Does he even care to show up with her to her events? To her vacation? Where’s his head at?

  Growing more irritated by the lack of appearances from the husband, I decide to make this conversation even more uncomfortable, because I don’t think I can go through the week without the answer.

  Twisting my glass on the bar top, I say, “Can I ask you something and you not get mad?”

  “Not get mad? Well, you’re just setting yourself up for failure when you say something like that.”

  “I know,” I say, glancing at my glass. “But I need to know something that’s been bothering me for a while now.”

  “Okay,” she says, seeming skeptical. “I can’t make any promises, but you can ask.”

  “If you do get mad, it will make for a wonderful living environment.”

  She chuckles and says, “If you piss me off, I will be sure to shack up with Jason and Dottie, and I think we both know the kind of wrath Dottie will reap if that happens. Pretty sure Jason is too much of a suck-up where you’re concerned to voice his irritation.”

  “Yeah, but Dottie”—I grip the side of my jaw and shake my head—“can be seriously frightening.”

  “I love her and she’s perfect for my brother, but yes, she’s terrifying at times.” She nudges my foot with hers. “Now stop stalling and just ask me so we can decide if I need a shot after this question or not.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to figure out the best way to ask this, but I can’t think of anything better than what’s running through my head. “Won’t your husband be upset if he found out we were sharing a hotel room?”

  Natalie pauses her drink halfway to her mouth as a crease forms between her eyes, deep and almost . . . angry.

  Shit.

  I knew the question wasn’t a good idea. But it’s been slowly eating me up inside. Where is he? Why isn’t he here holding her hand, tightly gripping her waist? Why isn’t he smiling at her, telling her what a great woman she is, or why isn’t he joking around with Jason, teasing him?

  “Husband?” she finally asks.

  “I know it’s not my place, but I—”

  “I’m divorced.”

  “—couldn’t help but ask, wait . . .” I tilt my head in her direction. “What did you say?”

  She turns back toward the bar and calls the bartender over with a wave of her hand. When he nods at her for her order, she asks for a shot of tequila. While the bartender is pouring her a shot, she says, “I’m divorced. Recently.”

  Holy.

>   Fuck.

  I try to hide my reaction, the joy pumping through my veins, the smile that wants to spread across my face, or the fist pump I want to give the sky. I hold back the “thank fuck” on the tip of my tongue and the idiotic jig my feet want to partake in, because it’s not an appropriate reaction.

  But . . .

  Holy . . . fuck.

  Natalie is divorced. Unattached. Free. Available.

  These feelings I’ve been harboring, the need to get to know her better, the urge to touch her, they’re no longer off limits.

  I can make a fucking move.

  Composing myself, I say, “Shit, I’m sorry, Natalie. I had no idea.”

  She shrugs, her mood shifting from awkward to indifferent. When the shot is set in front of her, she takes it back quickly, and winces. “We’ve been separated for a while now. I’ve come to terms with it.”

  Doesn’t look like she has if she’s downing shots at a bar from the mention of her having a husband.

  Tacking on a smile, she says, “So don’t worry, there won’t be a husband coming after you for sharing a hotel room with his wife when you’re back in the States.”

  Seeing the shift in her demeanor, the lack of smile, I turn to face her and try to be as empathetic as possible. “I’m not worried about that,” I say softly. “But I am sorry I brought it up.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sure it was confusing. I don’t talk about it much.” Doesn’t talk about it much? I’m going with at all. How didn’t Milly know she was divorced? Carson, Jason, and Knox are gossips . . . in the nicest possible way. So how did Milly not know? Has Natalie had anyone to talk to about it? Dottie? Jason? A friend?

  “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” I say, hoping she wants to talk about it, hoping she feels comfortable confiding in me. If anything, being this woman’s friend first might be the best way to help her through this, and then when I think she’s ready, she—

  “Thanks, but I’m good. I’m going to live my life,” she says, calling for another shot. “I’m in my mid-twenties and have never really lived it up. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. No boyfriends, just flings.” She takes down another shot and then stands from her chair. “I’m going to get my bathing suit on. I’ll catch you later, Cory.”