Chapter 12

[Ross]

Vee was the first person I thought of when we won. The first person I wanted to celebrate with. The first person I wanted to call. Only, when her text came in, I'd been tackled in a hug by Kip, who knew my secret, and couldn't believe it worked.

My pitching coach was suddenly on board the sleep-beside-Vee ship. And I didn't want to do anything to rock the boat.

Showing up at her place unannounced was a bit presumptuous. I didn't want to assume she'd give me a second night while I was hopeful she would. Either way, I simply wanted to share a glass of wine and cheers the Anchors' success.

Instead, we talked about her, which was like pulling a bone away from a lion. She was holding fiercely to her writing success secrets and I didn't understand why. She wasn't bashful about speaking once I prompted her to open up, but she definitely held back on the finer details, especially concerning that one book she'd mentioned writing back in November.

She never answered my question about if she'd been writing today. Instead, she told me about her walk at the local riparian preserve and I considered asking her if she'd take a walk with me one day. Then decided that might be crossing the imaginary line.

The one I can't seem to help crossing because the pull to sleep close to her, to be closer to her, not just physically, but in a get-to-know her better way, was strong. The force of my eagerness hits me like a pitched ball giving in to the curve of a throw.

I didn't only want to be strangers sharing a bed. I wanted to know Vee. To be friends .

Somehow, I didn't like the descriptor. It didn't feel complete, and there was something strangely fulfilling about spending time with Vee. The numbness I'd been feeling for a while wasn't so crippling when I was around her, but I didn't want to confuse our experiment with new emotions. As in, I didn't want to develop feelings if this was only a fleeting arrangement between us.

My focus needed to stay firmly on the ball. And today, my head had been nowhere else during our meet up against Boston. When thoughts of Vee wandered into the dugout, I shut them out. I had clarity.

Devotion. Drive. Determination.

The motivation worked.

So had sleeping beside Vee.

I couldn't dismiss the thought our experiment had been in my favor, but now I was out to prove it wasn't a one-off moment. A second night with her had been necessary.

"So," I clear my throat. "Another night?"

She sighs. Her lips pinch before she twists them side to side like a classic vaudeville comedian. And I only know what a vaudeville comedian is because of my son, Harley.

After a brief contemplation, she says, "One more night."

She finishes her glass of wine while I re-cork the bottle and push it to the side of the countertop. The set up of her rental is cozy compared to my hotel room. Every year I tell myself I'm going to splurge on a short-term stay location and every year I end up in another hotel room for a month.

When Landon or Harley would visit during their spring breaks, they'd tuck into the room with me, sharing the space for the week. This year, Landon will be spending his spring break at school, opting to work instead of visiting his old man. Harley wanted a week in Philadelphia, to see friends from high school, missing them since they all went in different directions for college.

I'd gotten a text from each of my sons after today's win. Surprising, since Harley doesn't pay as much attention to baseball as Landon. Then again, Harley's congratulatory message came after Landon's which probably prompted him to respond.

I needed to check in with both of them soon.

However, tonight, my focus is another night of rest in Vee's bed .

She rounds the counter and stops beside me where I've spun on the stool to face her. I want her to take my hand and lead me to the room, but the thought doesn't feel fair. She isn't trying to seduce me. She doesn't need to seduce me. I'm going to follow her regardless. Still, I wish she'd take my hand, like we're in this together, not just me selfishly asking her to give me time and space in her bed.

Instead, she smiles, bashfully lowering her lids. "I'm going to get ready for bed."

As far as I can tell, she's already ready, dressed in silk pajama shorts and another bookish T-shirt. This one reads: Will spread my pages for books . Earlier when I read it, I tried not to react, but reading the phrase had me imagining her legs spread wide, her delicate folds on display, allowing me to read her.

The image is too much, and I swipe a hand down my face in an attempt to cool down before heading toward that bedroom.

Giving her a few minutes to do what she needs to do, I finish off my wine. When I eventually enter the room, she's already in bed, sheets tucked over her lap, her back propped against the headboard as if waiting for me, and not just in limbo for our new nightly ritual to begin. But like she might be anticipating me joining her in bed, for something more.

Again, I shake the thought. That isn't what I've propositioned her for.

"I put a spare toothbrush on the counter. In case you'd like to use it."

Her thoughtfulness has my face heating, and I slide my hands into the pockets of my pants while I tuck my head. I wore casual linen slacks in an attempt to dress a little nicer, not look like a baseball coach on a mission. More like a man intent on spending time with a woman.

"Are we jumping ahead to where I have a toothbrush at your place?" A joke is the only way to diffuse this sudden swirling in my chest. A feeling that's been dormant until now, stretching and yawning, and seeming to wake up.

Vee chuckles, the sound sweet. "Maybe." Again, not a seductive tease but a playful giggle .

The sound puts me at ease.

I nod and enter the open bathroom space, taking time to brush my teeth and slip into the toilet closet a moment. Stepping back out, I wash my hands. I'd really like to strip off my pants and remove my tee, but I don't want to appear like I'm expecting more from Vee.

She's already given me more than I deserved, more than I should have asked for.

Vee watches as I circle the bed to my official side. One I need to try to stay on, but I also know I'll inevitably cross during the night.

"Those pants are going to be mighty wrinkled by morning." She eyes the linen material, already creased from sitting.

"I typically sleep in only my boxer briefs and nothing more." My mouth crooks upward, taunting her. Or maybe torturing myself, because I want to be wearing less and asking her for more when it isn't right.

She sighs, glancing at her lap and spreading her hands across the sheets folded over her legs. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can take them off." Her voice shakes, eyes continuing to avoid me.

"Would you be uncomfortable if I did?" Because I won't do anything to make her think this arrangement needs to become something else. I've had no clear sign Vee is attracted to me, even if she once had a crush on me.

She shakes her head and twists for the lamp, turning off the light to douse us in momentary darkness. I take the cue as permission to remove my pants, keeping on my tee, as if that offers some protection.

My dick still twitches, and I adjust myself. It might turn out to be a long night.

I slip under the sheets and mirror Vee's position again, both of us staring up at the ceiling where a sliver of light dances through the vertical blinds.

"I want to apologize. I didn't mean to insult you earlier when I implied you only like supermodels and movie stars, especially considering who Chandler is to you."

"Vee," I immediately rotate to my side. "I cared about Chandler but we're over. It wasn't love. It was . . ." Companionship ?

"Sex," she adds for me.

"Well," I clear my throat. "There was that, but I'd like to think we had a little more than just sexual chemistry." Upon mentioning it, I'm not certain Chandler and I fully had that either. I mean, we had sex, but was it a chemical attraction, something higher level, or just simple biology?

"But we don't need to share our sexual histories," I tell her.

"Because we aren't having sex," she states, a little too forceful, almost adamant, like a reminder of that invisible line between us.

Feeling strangely shot down when I didn't have any reason to be up, I don't reply. I shouldn't be hopeful of something else with Vee. Something more than just sleeping here beside her.

"Good night, Ross," she whispers, before turning to give me her back. A position I loathe but try to respect that she doesn't want me near her.

Try as I might, though, I don't last more than five minutes before I'm scooting closer to her, molding my chest to her back, and slinging my arm over her waist.

Thankfully, she signals she's okay with this position when the slightest tickle of her fingertips runs up and down my forearm a second before her hand rests on the bed, just out of reach from holding onto mine.