Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(40)

“You can ignore them.”

I grimaced. “I can try.”

She sat up and got feisty with me. “Listen, you are not a fuckup, and you don’t have anything to be ashamed or afraid of. You made it. You left here and did exactly what you said you were going to do—pitch in the major league. How many people can say that? You were a superstar for, what, like ten years? That’s a long time. And you probably made a bazillion dollars doing it, so you have plenty of money and can do anything you want with your second act. You just have to decide what it’s going to be.”

“It won’t be anything as great as the first, that’s for sure.”

She poked my shoulder. “You don’t know that. It could be even better. Ten years ago, I was living in Manhattan planning super ritzy parties for ridiculously wealthy clients, and I thought it was the epitome of success in my career. But you know what? I got bored. It was the same kind of people, and they weren’t always good people, and I started to feel like my life didn’t have the kind of purpose I wanted. When my parents offered the job here, I said no way at first. I’d worked really hard to make it in the big city—why would I come back to this little town? For a pay cut, no less. And dealing with brides all the time? No, thanks.”

“Why did you?” I wondered.

“Because I had the opportunity to build something of my own here. To grow it and watch it take off. I also realized how much I missed my family—and even this little town, where everyone wants to know your business and no one is shy about poking into it. Because they can also be really generous and loyal. I like that so many people around me know my name, know my family, care enough to ask about my dad’s health or compliment my mom’s hospitality or tell me how beautiful they heard so-and-so’s wedding was at the farm.”

I shook my head. “You’re a much better person than I am.”

She laughed and tried to push me again, but this time I flipped her onto her back. “You are. Just admit it.”

“I’m only trying to show you that your second act might not look like you thought it would, but it can still make you happy. I mean, you weren’t going to play forever, were you? What was the plan?”

“I didn’t have one,” I told her, settling my hips over hers. “I was going to die on the field.”

“Of what?” She wrapped her arms and legs around me.

“Heart attack? Lightning strike?” I planted kisses on her shoulder, her collarbone, her breast. “I don’t really know. Never gave that part much thought.”

“Well, I’m glad you had to retire before that happened. I would’ve been very sad at your funeral.”

I picked up my head and grinned at her. “You’d miss my big therapeutic dick?”

“I wouldn’t even know about that. If your pitching career hadn’t ended, I bet you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be on the field in some random city tonight, you’d fly here tomorrow to see Sadie get married, and fly right back out again.”

“St. Louis,” I told her, lowering my lips to her other breast. “I’d be in St. Louis right now.”

And it shocked me to realize that I was actually glad I wasn’t.





We made good use of the remaining condom, then fell asleep almost immediately. That was another surprise—normally I didn’t like sharing a bed. I preferred sleeping toward the center of the mattress, I tended to hog the blankets, and I really didn’t like to be touched while I was sleeping. And since I was a light sleeper, other people always seemed noisy to me during the night. Back when I’d had a sex life, I’d had a strict no-sleepover rule.

But I didn’t mind having April next to me at all. For one, she stuck to one side of the bed. Two, the only sound I heard was her breathing, and I liked it. Three, she smelled so good, it was like aromatherapy or some shit. I found myself snuggling up behind her just to get more of the scent. And I slept hard, even better than I had the night before.

When I woke up, I was alone in the bed. The room was still dark, but I could see a slash of light coming from under the bathroom door. I checked my phone and discovered it was just after seven. Then I lay back, hands behind my head.

The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and a moment later, she came out of the bathroom, leaving the light on. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking mussed and adorable and a little apprehensive.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“You shared the covers.”

“I did.”

“Was it terrible?”

I shook my head. “Just the opposite, actually. So why don’t you come back to bed and I’ll work on sharing some more.”

She laughed. “I wish I could, but I should probably get home. I have a big day ahead.”

“Me too. And I promise I’ll take you home in a minute. But first, come here.” I reached for her with one hand.

Smiling, she took my hand and let me tug her back into bed. Pulling up the covers, I wrapped my arms around her and tucked her head beneath my chin.

She rested her cheek on my chest and tossed an arm and a leg across me. “That’s what you said to me that night, you know.”

“What night?”

“In your truck. On the detour. You said ‘come here’ right before you kissed me.”