A Cross-Country Christmas(16)

I don’t want hairy spider puppies to get you in the middle of the night

<puppy emoji> <spider emoji><screaming face emoji>





The image of his muscular chest raced through her mind again.

I can handle myself.





I have no doubt…

Door’s open if anything changes.





She really tried not to conjure up a reason to walk through his door.

Try to get some sleep.





<thumbs up emoji>





She tucked her phone away and clicked the lamp off, pulling the sheets up to her chin, but within seconds she started to feel like something was crawling up her leg.

Lamp on. Sheets off.

Nothing.

“There’s nothing in this room. Go to sleep,” she said aloud.

But even with the lights on, she couldn’t keep her eyes closed for more than a few seconds.

She got out of the bed, picked up her phone, and started for the door. She glanced out the window. The light from Will’s room spilled out in the space between their two bungalows. She grabbed her door handle. . . then paused.

The feelings attached to the memories of all those years she wasted loving Will Sinclair flooded her mind like a tsunami. She turned back to face the dimly lit room. Whatever her problem was, Will was not the solution.

She slowly took her hand off the handle.

I’m a strong, independent woman. I’m smart and resourceful! I don’t need a guy to kill a spider.

She sighed.

Talk about a cliché.

She sunk into the little chair next to the bed, turned off the main lights in the room, and opened her laptop. Maybe she’d get some work done, prove to Lisa she was committed. But it was hard to focus when she swore she could hear furry little legs moving across the ceiling.

It was going to be a very long night.





Chapter 8





Road Trip Day Two





As was customary, Will woke up exactly three minutes before his alarm went off.

Getting up with the sun had become a part of his daily routine. On the days he missed the sunrise over the ocean, he felt out of sorts.

Normally, he’d go for a run before heading to the gym to meet the team, but today, he wanted to get on the road. Last night, Lauren wasn’t the only person who’d sent out an SOS. Jackson Pope, his team’s star pitcher, had called him about an hour after the Great Spider Chase. The kid reminded Will of himself, and unfortunately, not just on the field.

Jackson had a mean curveball, just like Will. He could throw 95 miles per hour, just like Will. He also had a penchant for making poor decisions.

Just like Will.

And if Jackson didn’t get his head out of his rear end and figure things out, his fate on his current team or any prospective teams in the future would be completely ruined.

Just like Will.

Will wasn’t going to let that happen.

He’d spent an hour on the phone with him, desperately trying to explain what was at stake if Jackson kept going the way he was. But when Will hung up, he wasn’t sure they were on the same page. He wasn’t even sure Jackson had heard a word he said. After all, the kid had basically drunk dialed him from a party that he was planning to drive home from.

The thought of that infuriated him.

Something had to change, and Will knew he was the only one to help change it.

He packed up his room and planned to swing by Lauren’s bungalow to make sure she was still breathing after her spider encounter, but after he locked his door, he turned around and found her trudging toward him across the gravel parking lot, wearing a pair of tight black leggings, a white cropped T-shirt and a ball cap.

Well, heck. She looked adorable.

He tried to force that thought straight out of his mind, but that was getting harder and harder to do. She was his best friend’s little sister. He had no business entertaining the idea of her as anything other than that.

Besides, his promise to Spencer was years-old, but it was still a promise.

“Anyone but Lauren,” Spence had said. “Swear on our friendship.”

How was he supposed to know she’d turn into a feisty, independent, beautiful woman who seemed to have no problem making it clear how very little she thought of him? That fact alone should turn his affection for her around, like a lost car in a cul-de-sac, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

It had only made her more intriguing.

He lifted his phone and snapped a picture, the historic café and motel in the background, dimly lit by what was left of the moon. And in the foreground, Lauren.

He looked at the image on his phone and zoomed in on her. He took another screen shot of the zoomed-in photo and saved it. He put his phone away and watched as she walked toward him.

He thought about their conversation over dinner the night before. He’d loved listening to her talk about her job—she was so passionate about it, the way he was about baseball, about the guys on his team. Lauren had this easy way of putting herself out there, of hoping for more where her career was concerned.

He, on the other hand, was totally fine with being an assistant coach. It’s about all he deserved. Not many people got a second (or in his case, a third, fourth, and fifth) chance, and he felt lucky to help lead a team after his bad choices had nearly stolen baseball from him for good.