Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Miranda

"I don't need much, but I don't know what else to do." My mother's voice holds a desperation she's trying to hide. But it's happened again—her live-in boyfriend skipped out, leaving her with another pile of debt.

I close my eyes. The cool concrete wall outside the stadium doesn't provide the comfort I seek. My only solace is knowing the man inside will.

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll send some money right now." My gaze drifts over the stadium exit. Drake will come out any minute. I need to end this conversation. The last thing I need is for him to learn about my mother's shitshow of a life.

Pulling up the app, I ask, "How much do you need?"

"Twelve hundred will get me by until next week."

I blow out a breath, afraid to ask what she needs in total. "Okay, I'll send it now. But Mom…" When she responds, I add, "Hold off on finding a replacement."

I don't wait for her answer, knowing full well what it will be. It's the same thing she always says: "I will unless the right man comes along."

But they're never the right man. They're only suitable for now.

It may take a few years, but every one of them leaves. The difference between Mom and me? I won't settle for anyone who refuses to support themselves. That's why I set my sights on a baller. It's taken longer than I thought, but I always believed I'd snag one eventually.

And speaking of said player, here he comes now in all his athletic glory. Drake strides out with that confident, purposeful walk as if he owns the ground he steps on. The buzz from the game clings to him like an aura I can almost touch. My breath hitches, and a flutter kicks up in my chest, mimicking the day he strolled into my salon.

I could tell he was a fuckboy the moment he walked through my door, full of swagger that only confident men hold. But then he spoke. The richness of his voice descended upon me like an early morning dewfall. And like everything in its wake, I was wet and willing to fall prey to his charm. But as much charisma as he exuded, he had a level of vulnerability. The guy seemed lost, and I happened to be the one to find him. I took full advantage. Electricity crackled through my veins when my hands touched his sculpted shoulders. His espresso eyes locked with mine, and I knew I was a goner. I could've jumped on the table and straddled his lap then and there.

But I'm not that kind of establishment. No way am I risking my reputation over a pretty face.

We kept the talking to a minimum to start, but it didn't take long before we connected, and the conversation flowed easily. I gave subtle hints about being single, which worked enough for him to ask me on a date. I could hardly believe my luck. Drake Gunner, star hitter for the Boston Bears, interested in little ole me? It felt like a dream. It took little convincing to end up in his apartment and bed.

Now, to seal the deal.

I'm done with the "waiting to fall in love" scheme. The chemistry between us is hot, and he's so goddamn sexy. We can get to the next level. I know we can. I just need to play my cards right and snag him before he loses interest.

As Drake nears, those dark pools lock onto mine. His black hair is still damp from the post-game shower, dark strands falling across his brow in that casually tousled way that makes my fingers itch to run through them. The sleeves of his crisp white button-down strain against his biceps, hinting at the impressive physique hidden beneath. He does look sharp in a dress shirt.

I smooth down the silky fabric of my low-cut blouse as a half-smile plays on his lips, the one that says he's pleased but doesn't want to show just how much. I imagine he's always been good at that—keeping himself just out of reach.

"Miranda." My name falls from his lips in a promise as heat creeps up my neck.

"Drake." I step forward, closing the gap between us, my heels clicking against the pavement like a ticking clock. This man is all mine; I just need to keep it that way.

Failure simply isn't an option.

The space between us crackles, charged with the energy of what could be. His gaze dips down, tracing the curve of my neckline, lingering for a moment too long. Or maybe not long enough. My skin tingles under his invisible caress.

"Hope you weren't waiting too long."

I press myself against his solid chest, relishing the heat of his body seeping into mine. "For you? I'd wait forever."

A chuckle rumbles through him, and he tilts my chin up, his thumb grazing along my jawline. The rough pad of his finger against my skin sends delicious little shivers racing down my spine. "Missed you today," he murmurs, his breath hot against my cheek.

"Missed you too, slugger." I trail my fingertips down the front of his shirt, feeling the rugged ridges of muscle beneath. "Congrats on the win. You looked good bringing in the victory."

"I did, did I?"

"Mm-hmm."

His hands skim down my sides to settle on my hips, his touch searing me even through the thin fabric of my blouse. "Couldn't have done it without my lucky charm."

I arch an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, is that what I am now?"

"Damn straight." Drake's gaze smolders with an intensity that steals my breath. "You're my Lady Luck. I enjoyed having you watch me."

And then his mouth is on mine, his kiss hungry and demanding. I melt into him, parting my lips to grant his seeking tongue entrance. He tastes like peppermint and desire, a heady combination that weakens my knees. A needy whimper escapes me as his fingers dig into my hips, dragging me impossibly closer.

Too soon, he breaks the kiss, leaving me flushed and panting. "The guys and I are heading to The Green Monster to celebrate. I'd love for you to come with me." His eyes search mine, a hint of vulnerability in their depths. "That is if you want to?"

Oh my God, he's officially showing me off.

I beam at him, my earlier worries vanishing like mist beneath the summer sun. "Of course I want to! I'd love nothing more than to celebrate with you and your teammates." Giddy excitement thrumming through my veins, I wind my arms around his neck. "Lead the way, handsome."

As we enter The Green Monster, the lively atmosphere envelops us—pulsing music, clinking glasses, and muffled conversations. Drake's hand rests possessively on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd of bodies. The heat of his touch seeps through the thin material of my blouse, igniting a flutter of anticipation in my stomach.

"Victory tastes sweet, doesn't it?" I tease, leaning into him so my breath ghosts over his earlobe. I can almost feel the rumble of his chuckle against my cheek.

"Best when shared," he replies, tilting his head to meet my gaze, those soulful eyes searching mine.

I don't miss the double meaning. Shared victory. Shared … more. My stomach flutters, but I'm not one to settle on a feeling when there's fun to be had. Drake leads us to the bar and orders drinks with a nod and a smile that has the bartender hastening to comply. I let my gaze wander, taking in the revelry, the carefree laughter. I cannot wait to check out who's here.

We weave our way towards where several of Drake's teammates gather, talking animatedly. As we approach, a familiar figure catches my eye, and my heart stutters. Kaplan Dior, one of my regulars at the salon, leans against the tall table next to the bar, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as they meet mine.

"Miranda." Kaplan pushes off the bar, his lips curving into a delighted grin. "Fancy seeing you here." His gaze rakes over me appreciatively, lingering on my curves. "You look absolutely stunning tonight."

"I look stunning every time you see me." Funny how you didn't notice until I was with another teammate.

That smirk of his widens. "Yes, you do."

I hold his gaze, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Kaplan has been my customer for the past three years and has not flirted with me once. I've dropped the same hints to him as I did to Drake, but he never bit. My annoyance flares, overriding any desire trying to flicker to life. Why is he flirting with me when I finally find someone interested in more than a fling?

"Guess I'll be seeing you around," I say.

When I slide in beside Drake, he leans over and whispers, "You know Kaplan?"

I wave him off. "He's a client."

Drake's jaw ticks, but he says nothing. I grab the drink and take a big swig. I have a feeling it will take a shit ton of alcohol to douse the flames inside me.

A couple of hours later, I got my wish. I'm officially drunk. But those flames? They never burned out.

The guys are on the dance floor looking for their next conquest while Drake leaves for the bathroom. I'm sitting here alone, feeling pretty good.

"You having fun?"

When I meet Kaplan's piercing blue eyes, my heart practically stops. Oh, how I wish he hadn't affected me so much. "Always. I didn't expect to run into you here."

Kaplan chuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. "I could say the same about you. I had no idea you were friends with the new guy." He leans closer, his cologne invading my senses—a spicy, expensive scent that makes my head spin. "Dance with me?"

"You know I can't," I say, but there's a teasing lilt to my voice. My heart races, and I hate myself for how this man makes me want to drag him to my bed. Every. Single. Time.

"Just one dance, Miranda," he implores, his gaze flickering with something dangerous … something enticing.

"I … I shouldn't." I give a quick shake of my head, attempting to keep my resolve steady, but my voice comes out raspy. I barely get the words out as my body screams to accept his offer.

"Can't or won't?" Kaplan tilts his head, his lips curving in an infuriating smirk.

"Maybe a bit of both," I flirt back, my own smile teasing at the corner of my lips. "Besides, what would Drake think?"

Kaplan's eyes gleam with mischief. "Does it matter what he thinks?" He steps even closer, our bodies almost touching. "Come on, Miranda. Live a little."

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "You always know how to get under my skin, Kaplan."

His hand brushes against my arm, sending a jolt of electricity through me. As much chemistry as Drake and I have, it doesn't match this. "And you love it," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

"Maybe I do," I admit, my eyes locking with his. "But you never gave us a chance."

Kaplan leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "Who says I won't?" His lips barely graze my earlobe, and my insides catch fire.

Before I can respond, Drake's deep voice cuts through the air like a razor.

"I leave for a minute, and Kaplan swoops in to steal my girl?" His voice has a hint of a joke, but he can't hide the undercurrent of tension.

He loops an arm around my waist and pulls me closer, his body cagey and rigid.

Kaplan laughs lightly—too lightly—his eyes flicking between us. "Just catching up with an old friend." He raises his drink in a mock salute before turning to leave.

Drake watches him go before looking down at me, his gaze intense and probing.

"What the hell was that, Miranda?" Drake's voice is low, barely audible over the pounding music. "Do you always flirt with other men like that when I'm not around?"

Indignation flares within me, hot and sharp. I jerk out of Drake's grasp, my temper rising to match his. "Excuse me? I wasn't flirting with anyone. Kaplan is a client, nothing more."

Drake scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Could've fooled me. The way he was looking at you…"

"He's just a client. He means nothing to me." Panic rises inside me. I have to sell this lie. I can't let a little flirting come between us. Not when the flirting is wasted on a man who does nothing with it. "I'm sorry, babe. You know how I get. But I promise I only have you on my mind."

His expression looks pained as he croaks out, "I need you to know how much you mean to me."

And just like that, my anger takes a backseat as my world soars. This is it. I finally have someone, and not just anyone—a freaking beast of a baseball player—paying attention to me. "You mean everything to me, Drake. Kaplan is just a client, nothing more."

"I want this to work between us, Miranda." Drake's eyes search mine, myriad emotions swirling in their depths—fear, hope, longing. "I want to trust you. I want … I want this to be real. Not just some casual fling, but something permanent."

My head spins, and not just from the alcohol. "I want that too, Drake. And I promise, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me for as long as you have me."

A shuddering breath escapes him, and he crushes me to his chest, burying his face in my hair. We stay like that for a long moment, clinging to each other as the world falls away, leaving only the two of us and the unspoken promises hanging between us.

A giddy excitement bubbles inside me as I pull back, my hands sliding down Drake's arms to lace our fingers together. "Come home with me tonight," I murmur, my voice low and inviting. "Let's get out of here, just the two of us."

Drake's brow furrows, hesitation flickering in his eyes. "I need to be at the stadium early. My place isn't far."

"Mine's closer." I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of his ear as I whisper, "I don't think I can wait. I need you inside me now."

A shiver runs through him, his grip on my hands tightening. "You're impossible to resist, you know that?" he breathes, his resolve crumbling under the weight of my persuasion.

I grin, triumphant. "Is that a yes?"

He chuckles, shaking his head in amused surrender. "Yes, you temptress. Let's go to your place."

Nothing, and I do mean nothing, will bring me down. I tug him toward the exit, my mind already racing ahead to the promise of the night to come. Drake is in my clutches, and I will never let him go.