Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Cosmos

“ H ubble, no more babies for you and your wife,” Cosmos growled into his phone as he walked down the street. “As the owner of Reynolds Protection, I shouldn’t be having to pull bodyguard gigs anymore because your sperm got lost.”

“Technically, my sperm got found.”

“Smartass.”

Hubble shifted the conversation. “Not surprised Ashford couldn’t handle being out in public. He can barely be polite to room service and the cleaning staff. Sorry, boss. Someday when it’s your sperm, I’ll owe you.”

“There will be no babies coming out of my dick,” Cosmos grunted. A flash of a brown-haired beauty flashed in his brain, then he quickly suppressed it. Returning to the phone conversation, his tone remained grumpy, but it was clear he cared about his employee’s baby-to-be. “What are you having?”

“I dunno, Cos. If I tell you, you might catch it,” Hubble teased .

“See if you get paternity leave now, asshole. When I buy it a birthday present for its fifth birthday, it’s going to be a full drum kit.”

“Aww. My little rocker-girl is going to be so proud to have a female drummer in the family.”

“A girl, huh? Congratulations, Hub. Let’s hope she sings better than her mother,” Cosmos joked.

“You love my wife’s singing, mofo.”

“Mofo? Really?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Jade asked me to stop swearing now, so I’m out of the habit by the time the baby gets here. Told her then she had to stop, too.”

Cosmos snorted. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“So where are you now that I’m back with Mr. Rockstar back in his suite?”

“I decided I deserved a beer. Walking down Clark Street to The Sand Berg.”

“Isn’t that awful touristy for you? Not to mention how crowded it will be with the game just getting out.”

Up in front of him a few feet, Cosmos noticed a young woman in a blue tank top and well-fitting jeans. He admired her hourglass figure, the sway of her hips, and the way her long brown hair moved left to right with each step. Something about her curvy form seemed familiar. He’d followed her about half a block when she turned left and entered The Sand Berg. When he saw her profile, he realized it was the girl from the row in front of them at the game.

Not realizing he was saying it out loud, he replied, “Yeah. Sometimes touristy is good.”

“Ah. You’re looking to work out your aggression and get laid. Not exactly the bar for that. It’s usually couples and yuppie groups. If you want hit-it-and-quit-it, you’re more likely to find it at Murphy’s Bleachers.”

“All of that information should be driven out of your brain now that you’re married. ”

“Hey. Jade loves to role play. She’s the here-from-out-of-town-and-my-

boyfriend-just-cheated-on-me role, and I take the just-drunk-enough-local-who’ll-be- your-one-night-rebound role. I know which bars it works in and which ones it doesn’t.”

Through the front window, Cosmos watched Brewer-girl sit down at the last remaining open seat at the bar. “Don’t call me until Monday unless somebody’s dead.” He disconnected the call, put his phone in his pocket, and stepped through the bar’s door.

Abigail

When Abby exited through the gates of Wrigley Field and out onto Clark Street, she was humming happily to herself. Hotel Versey was just a short twelve minute walk. Last night she had taken a rideshare to the game, but since today had been a day game and it was still light out, it felt safe enough to walk.

A short ways down Clark Street, she saw The Sand Berg, a Cubs bar she remembered from her internet research. Yeah, she felt conspicuous here in her Brewer gear, but the place looked low key enough that hopefully no one would give her a difficult time.

Not like that douchebag earlier today.

The bartender, a perky Goth girl, stopped in front of Abby, throwing her towel over her shoulder. “Hi, there, infidel! What poison can I serve you?” The megawatt smile from the punk pixie belied the words.

“You saw that last inning, I take it,” Abigail murmured apologetically.

“Oh, yeah. I’m surprised you made it here alive.” The bartender ducked her head around Abby to look through the people and out the window. When she looked back, she whispered, “Is the town horde with torches and pitchforks right behind you? ”

Abby laughed. “I think I dodged them.” She held out her hand. “I’m Abby.”

The bartender reached her hand over the bar. “Friday.”

Abby’s eyebrows raised, and her mouth dropped open. “Really?”

“Yup!”

“That’s so cool.”

Friday shrugged. “Eh. Depends on the day. So. What can I get ya, my new frenemy?”

“Just a soda. Don’t want to get tipsy when I might have to outrun the horde again later.”

Friday winked at her while making the thumb/forefinger gun formation on both hands, then sashayed down to the soda gun. She returned with the soda and a menu. “Incoming hottie at ten o’clock,” she murmured. “Hi, Cosmos! Long time, no see. Your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, Friday.”

She’d recognize that voice anywhere, and she’d probably be touching herself remembering it for weeks.

Holy crap, it’s Mr. Hot!

When Friday returned with his beer, his arm reached between her and the patron next to her, handing the bartender some bills along with making a finger gesture that signaled he was paying for Abby’s drink as well. She must have been frowning because he explained, “Consider it an apology for Mr. Ashford’s behavior earlier. I hope it didn’t ruin the game for you.”

Abby glanced up into the face of the man who had escorted the douchebag out of the stadium for harassing her, only this time, he didn’t have his sunglasses on. Instead, she got the full effect of his beautiful brown eyes. “No,” she replied as she turned her face back to her soda.

She felt flustered, and it was super hot in the bar suddenly.

Great conversation skills, Abs. Thank the man before he thinks you’re rude on top of stupid.

“Thank you.” She turned to look at him again and felt just as tongue-tied as the first time. “I mean, for helping me. With him. For getting rid of him. Taking him out.” She blew out air up toward her forehead.

This conversation is not getting any better. Why am I such a dork with attractive men?