Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(4)

Fate had handled that nicely on its own.

Would his easy friendship with Stephen be the same now that Travis’s identity had been stripped away? The death of his career seemed to cast a shadow over his every interaction now. He’d always been a baseball player. The game ran in his veins. It never failed to be the first thing people spoke to him about. How’s the shoulder? Better than ever. How’s the team looking for the upcoming season? We’re focused and ready to win games. Hit me one out of the park. I’ll hit you two. The few times he’d left the apartment since returning to Port Jefferson, the topic of baseball had been deftly avoided anywhere he went. If someone asked him about the weather or complimented his new non-haircut one more time, his fucking head was going to explode.

Was this his life now? Pretending as though the five years of his baseball career never happened? Some days, that’s what he wanted. He wanted to numb himself to the memories of his injury and subsequent decline. Being shared around the league like a bummed cigarette. And finally the phone call from his team manager that was the equivalent of shooting a lame horse. Other days, though . . . pretending his career never happened scared the shit out of him. What was the point of all that hard work when he’d ended up right back in Port Jefferson, hitting up his friend for a job, just like his father always predicted he would?

That was a reminder he could have done without today.

Knowing he needed a minute before having to converse with a real live human being, Travis sighed and backed away from the window, leaning up against the building’s concrete wall. Maybe he should put this off until tomorrow. It wasn’t a reunion, exactly, since Stephen had been at his place a week . . . or maybe two . . . ago. Hard to remember since he’d been knee-deep in a bottle of Jack at the time. Having a sober face-to-face conversation with the bluntest person he knew might not be the greatest idea in his shitty frame of mind.

“Travis Ford?”

He turned to find a pretty blonde he didn’t recognize approaching him on the sidewalk. When all he could muster was a nod, she laughed.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Can’t say that I do,” he responded, without matching her smile. “Should I?”

Her composure faltered, along with her stride, but she recovered fast. “Well . . . we went to high school together. Tracy Gallagher. I sat behind you in homeroom senior year.”

“Oh, right,” he said tonelessly. “Sure.”

Port Jefferson was a little bubble of a town. What happened out in the world only mattered insomuch as it directly affected the residents. But the familiar mixture of interest and censure on Tracy’s face made one thing pretty obvious: his reputation as an unrepentant womanizer had penetrated the bubble. She stood there waiting for him to elaborate on his monosyllabic answers, maybe even make a pass at her, and she was about to be sorely disappointed.

“Um,” she continued, seemingly unfazed. “You’ve been back in town for a month and I haven’t seen you around. Were you . . .” Cheeks turning pink, she squared her shoulders. “Did you want some help reacquainting yourself with the town?”

“Why would I? Nothing here has changed.” God, he was being a complete dick. As little as six months ago, they would have already been on their way back to his place. Good old Two Bats, always up for a lay. Until he wasn’t worth a damn anymore. Everyone had wanted a piece of him until shit got heavy, right? After the trades started and his stock went down, his phone stopped ringing. Here was a woman showing him some interest. Hell, she seemed nice enough. Maybe her intentions were pure. But after the fleeting smoke-and-mirrors lifestyle he’d led for the last five years, he could no longer muster an ounce of excitement. None of it ever meant anything. “Look, I’m about to meet with a friend . . .”

“Tracy. I work at the boutique.” She pointed south. “Down on the other end of Main Street. Glitter Threads.”

He forced a tight smile. “If I ever need the perfect little black dress, I’ll let you know.”

She laughed as if he’d made the joke of the century instead of a sarcastic jackass comment. “Why wait to hang out? There’s a new park down on the water, actually. If you wanted to check it out, I could pack a picnic lunch, or . . .”

His laugh was toneless. “A picnic.”

Finally picking up on the fact that he wasn’t interested, Tracy paused and her expression went flat. Irritated. Part of him felt bad for being impolite, but the other half? It felt good to not be the charming ladies’ man who took nothing seriously except his batting average. “You know—”

“Hey, Travis,” said a voice behind him. The sound reminded him of dripping Popsicles and skinned knees, but it had changed some. Grown huskier, lost the slight lisp. Georgie came into view, a ball cap pulled down low on her forehead, hair escaping in every direction. “Are you ready?”

He gave Stephen’s little sister a bland look. “For what?”

“Uh. Your doctor’s appointment, silly.” Georgie poked him in the ribs. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

Was Georgie swooping in to save him from Tracy? Yeah. It appeared she was. And he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The idea of a picnic with anyone—especially this woman who probably expected him to dazzle her with stories about meeting celebrities—was right on par with water torture. “Right. My doctor’s appointment.”