13. Eden

THIRTEEN

eden

PRESENT DAY

What Chase doesn't need to know is what I really mean is that I'll lose everything I've worked so hard to build trying to forget him.

His brows draw down. "What do you mean you'll lose everything?"

I face him and lean against the counter, twisting a dish towel in my hands.

"If I lose this event, my business will go under."

"But I thought you were doing well. Last time I saw you, business was thriving."

I swallow and look down at my hands wringing the towel.

"I made some…let's call them bad judgment calls over the last year, year and a half. And now I'm strapped for cash. I've had to lay out a lot more money than I anticipated on some things, and I haven't recouped yet. But this event is going to pay enough to take care of some stupid loans I took out that are draining me."

He locks his hands behind his neck and pulls down. "No pressure or anything, right?"

His voice is angry and I don't blame him .

He'd left the New York Admirals under less than ideal circumstances if the media is to be believed.

He and I had one glorious night together that put my heart in danger.

We said things we shouldn't have, did things we shouldn't have, and with my heart broken yet again, I left and never returned his calls.

It's no wonder he isn't exactly thrilled to see me.

For the first time, the enormity of what I'm asking of him sets in, and it isn't fair to put this burden on him for mistakes I've made that he wasn't a part of.

Why didn't it bother me to ask Mason Jackstone to be the speaker? This is business. Would I be so conflicted about this if we didn't share a history?

I shake my head because I don't even need to answer that. All kinds of emotions are involved when it comes to Chase.

Still…I have people depending on me. They have families and lives.

But so does Chase.

What a fucking mess.

He shoves the stool back and walks over to where I stand. "I need to think it over, okay?"

"Fair enough." I pick up the dirty egg pan. "I'll just finish cleaning up."

He shakes his head. "I got it. You cooked; I'll clean."

"No, I can?—"

"Eden, leave it."

His large hand covers mine on the handle, and the heat from it sends a shock of desire straight to my core.

I look up into his green eyes that always hold me captive. Honest to God, it was the first thing I noticed when we met in freshman English lit class .

I've known this man for so long and yet over the last several years, I don't know him at all.

Torment mixes with desire in his green depths, and my chest flutters, leaving me breathless.

I need to walk away. Move out of the line of fire before we burn each other again. I don't know how many more close encounters I can take before I combust.

A rumble of thunder outside brings me back to earth and I blink, snatching my hand away. "Fine. I'm just…I've got some work to do so…I'll be…just…yeah."

He nods slowly, his eyes not leaving mine. When they do, he looks down at the pan like he doesn't know how it got there. "Right."

I take a step back and then another before turning and nearly fleeing out of the kitchen.

Moving quickly down the hallway to Chase's room, I'm anxious to be alone so I can recalibrate my body.

I shut the double doors behind me, leaning back on them.

Chest heaving, my eyes slide closed as I drop to the floor, trying to bring equilibrium back to my system.

There's no way I'd survive us coming together and leaving each other again.

The first time I'd felt like I had no good choice. The guilt laid on me by my mother had broken me.

Broke us.

At twenty-two, I still hadn't been strong enough to buck my mother even though I knew what she was doing to me.

She'd been sick at the time, but the woman hated to see anyone happy, including her only daughter.

And she'd used her illness and my inability to say no to her to hold me back when Chase wanted me to go with him when he made the majors.

But at the time, what did I know about a broken heart ?

The second time, though?

I knew what a broken heart felt like, specifically a heart broken by Chase Hanover.

I should have known better.

He'd just lost his wife and I'd wanted to comfort him, but we'd taken it a bit too far.

With a heavy sigh, I peel myself off the floor. My pity party for one has officially become pathetic.

It's time to get myself out of personal mode and back into work mode. I may be trapped on the island, cut off from civilization, but it's still a workday.

I put in my earbuds, start a deep focus playlist, and work for several hours, only looking up when the power shuts off, plunging the room into shadows.

Across the room, beyond the windows, the weather conditions have deteriorated. It's becoming hard to see much outside the window from the rain lashing against it. Thunder is an almost continuous roll, and lightning bolts split the purple skies.

Licks of fear scrape along my skin, and I worry about the strength of the glass. Chase says they're hurricane windows, so I assume they'll hold.

God willing.

The ocean churns, dark gray and angry, no longer the navy blue beauty on a clear day. Whitecaps dance along the top of the waves that crash against the shore, and the storm surge marches up the beach.

I swallow hard and pull the curtains closed.

The knock on my door startles me. Butterflies instantly swarm in my belly knowing Chase is on the other side.

When I open the door, he stands on the threshold, hands in the pockets of low- slung jeans and a white T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. "Hey. You okay? "

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"The generator should kick on soon. It usually doesn't take long."

I nod and avoid his stare. "That's great. Thank you."

Just then, the room lights up from the lamps I'd had on, and beeps from various electronics go off. The white noise hum of power surrounds us.

"See? Hardly missed a beat," he says.

"Yeah." I tap my finger against the door and shift my feet. When did we become awkward with each other?

When you ran off and didn't speak to him for four years.

Man, I hate awkward.

Chase rocks back on his heels. "I didn't eat lunch, and I noticed you didn't either. Want to share an early dinner?" His gaze holds mine when he says, "We need to talk about some things, Eden."

He's right, no way around it.

In business, I'm good about facing things head-on.

My personal life is another story.

The business of my heart and the business of putting on a good show are two different things.

Even if there is a fine line in there somewhere.

I straighten my shoulders and nod. "Sure. I owe you dinner anyway."

He shakes his head with a sweet smile that for a moment reminds me of the little boy I'd grown up with. "Consider breakfast payment. I got dinner. I'll see you in the kitchen."

"Deal. I'll be there in a few minutes."

A quick change into a pair of well-worn jeans and a tank top and I head toward the kitchen, where I find Chase slicing up a slab of red meat.

He nods toward the bottle of my favorite beer on the counter. "I don't know if you still drink that or not, but I took my chances."

"Thanks." I squeeze the lime in the top and take a long sip.

My insides sigh when the icy cold carbonation hits my tongue. I swallow the smooth liquid, letting it warm me from the inside out. "You remembered."

His gaze lifts to mine, a swirl of emotions in his green depths. "I remember everything."

After a beat, he goes back to slicing the meat, and I stand there tongue-tied and on the verge of tears, unable to do much more than stare at him.

"It looks like you were going to make fajitas."

"I was." I groan and put a hand over my empty, and now growling, belly. "I was going to try and copy your steak fajitas. But I doubt I would have made them as good."

He grins. "Still your favorite?"

"Hell, yeah."

Because not only is the man a legendary baseball player who looks like an Adonis and made me see stars in bed, but he can also cook that fine baseball ass off.

Especially fajitas.

I prop an elbow on the counter and drop my chin into my hand. "What seasoning do you use to make it taste so good? I've tried different brands and can never find one as good."

He shakes his head as he slides the meat off the cutting board and into a bowl. "Can't tell you that. Family recipe."

"What do you mean by a family recipe?"

A smile touches his lips as he works. "The foster family my mother lived with when she was a teenager had a grandmother that would come over, and she was Mexican. Had a special recipe she used that my mother remembered. And she taught us. "

"Really? I didn't know your mom was in the foster system. You never mentioned it."

He reaches for a green pepper and starts to chop it with precise movements. "It's not exactly a topic of conversation I talked about with people. I wasn't ashamed. It just never came up."

"Yeah, but…" I trail off, sipping my beer.

We'd been more than a passing boyfriend, girlfriend thing. We'd made future plans, confessed our love. And I still didn't know.

He shrugs a shoulder as he scrapes the peppers off into the bowl with the meat. "It's not a big deal, Eden. She didn't really talk about it with us. I guarantee that most of the women at her supper club never knew either."

Silence surrounds us, leaving only the sound of the knife blade hitting the cutting board.

Outside, the wind continues to howl and the rain keeps beating against the house.

In spite of the fit Mother Nature pitches beyond the windows, a relaxed sort of peacefulness settles in my bones as I watch him work.

Then again, up until ten years ago, Chase had always been my safe space.

It's no mystery why my heart has had a void in it since the day he left for the majors.

I'm sure my therapist would tell me the fact that I'm in his house that's built like Fort Knox against the elements during a hurricane isn't a mistake.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, I've got it under control. Just enjoy your beer."

I slide onto a barstool and lean back, letting my shoulders relax after working in a less than ergonomically friendly position. "I won't say no to that. "

As I watch Chase assemble dinner, I think back with a smile to the few times he'd cooked for me before. "You know, this isn't the first time you've cooked for me on this island."

He looks over at me with a smile, stirring the spicy mix of meat and veggies. "I remember. When we came over here for the day on spring break and pitched a tent on the beach. These are better surroundings though."

I laugh. "No doubt. Although, I admit camping on the beach was pretty romantic. Until we got caught."

"The guy who busted us just retired from the sheriff's department here last year."

"Seriously? Did he remember you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Oh no," I say, laughing.

"He was cool about it. You know, gave me that elbow nudge, wink thing." He mimics the motion, which makes me laugh harder.

"Oh, that's classic." I sip my beer. "I will say though, this food smells better than what you cooked back then."

He lays a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You mean, you didn't enjoy my grilled mystery meat on a stick?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Yuck. Well, I'm lying. I did enjoy it back then. But I think our palates are a little more refined these days."

"Definitely," he says with a grin. "At least, in some areas."

His eyes are full of heat and make my skin flush. I don't know what to make of that comment or the look he's giving me.

Or the change in his attitude toward me.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Why are you being so nice to me? Where's Chasey McGrumpypants?"

He stops midstir and turns to me. "Did you just call me Chasey McGrumpypants?"

"That's my new nickname for you. "

"You make me sound like a Sesame Street character," he grumbles.

I point at him. "Hey, it sounds like he's coming back. Whew." I mimic wiping sweat from my brow. "I thought I'd lost him there for a minute."

He rolls his eyes and lowers the heat under the pan before turning to me. "It's like you said. This isn't the scenario either of us wanted, but it's what we have. There's no reason to make this any harder than it has to be. I'm trying. Okay?"

His eyes are sincere, even if those full lips are frowning.

"Okay."

I can't tear my eyes from his mouth. My mind wanders down memory lane to our camping trip on the beach.

It had been romantic, but he'd said and done some seriously dirty things with that mouth underneath the stars with the waves as our soundtrack.

The memories play like a film reel in my mind, and I have to clench my thighs together to ease the hurts-so-good pain between my legs.

His gaze hasn't left mine, and it's gone from sincere to sexy the longer we look at each other.

The food isn't the only thing sizzling in this kitchen.

I need to break this eye fucking before I lose it.

"I'll get the plates and silverware ready," I blurt out, jumping off the stool.

He nods and turns away to stir the food. "It's just about ready."

We work together in the kitchen, moving around each other like a dance and yet giving each other enough space that we never get too close.

If I get too close to him for too long, I'll strip down to my birthday suit and beg him to fuck me on the granite countertops until I forget why I'm here in the first place.

With steaming plates full of food and our beers, we move into the informal dining room.

I call it that in my head because the table is much smaller—though it still could seat six grown men with elbow room to spare—than the monstrosity of a table in the separate room off the kitchen.

I'm starving and without thinking about it, I start filling my face with fajitas.

"Oh my God," I say around a hot bite of food. "This is amazing." I put my hand over my mouth and swallow. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"It's nice to see you loosen up a bit, Mitchell." Chase chuckles and opens another beer for each of us.

I make a mental note to drink this one a bit slower. I need to be somewhat sober around this man.

"What do you mean? I know how to loosen up."

He chews and swallows before speaking like a well-mannered adult. "Oh yeah, of course you do."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"What do you do on a Saturday night?"

"Like a regular Saturday night or something special?"

"A regular, run-of-the-mill Saturday night."

I think back over the past few months. I can't remember the last time I went out for drinks with my friends.

And the last time I did, my phone was glued to my palm. I have no idea what is going on with their lives.

I blink and then huff. "I'm running a business, Chase. Who has time for recreation?"

"Is that what you're calling sex now?"

The blush burns my cheeks. "No. I…no," I stammer.

"I'm running a business too, Eden. But I still find time for…re creation."

I lift my bottle to drink away the jealousy that burns in my throat. "Yeah, I know. We already talked about that."

Jealousy isn't a pretty thing and an emotion I need to check at the door when it comes to Chase. But right now I'm epically failing at that.

And here I thought I'd gotten over it when he got married.

But who could blame me?

The man is straight-up gorgeous with all that chocolate-brown hair and those green eyes. He'd had groupies hanging around the dugout, even back in college. I'd trusted him back then because he'd made it clear I was it for him.

But trust is a high-dollar commodity that is easy to lose and hard to win. It was a difficult lesson I'd had to learn.

Great, now I'm all awkward again and feel like I'm about six years old pushing my food around my plate.

I straighten my shoulders and clear my throat. "You said we needed to talk. What did you want to talk about?"

There. Steering the conversation back to more professional topics is just the antidote to my plague.

The wind, rain, and thunder batter the house from the outside. But the way he blows out a breath before meeting my gaze gives me the feeling I'm going to be battered here on the inside.

"I can't be the speaker for your fundraiser."

In spite of the fact I'd been expecting this answer, my dinner threatens to make an encore appearance.

He rubs a hand over his stubbled chin, looking a little sick himself.

"I know how much this means to you, Eden. I really do. But I need you to understand why I can't go back to New York right now."

I want to kick and scream and cry.

But there's something in his tone, a shadow that crosses those green eyes, and the tightening of his jaw that makes me sit up and take notice.

I push aside the panic building in my chest and nod. "Please tell me. Because right now, I gotta be honest. I need something to keep me from spinning out of control."

Chase pushes his plate aside and leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. The sleeves of his T-shirt pull tight over his biceps, the muscles in his forearms on full display.

For long moments, he sits staring into space, but it isn't a vacant stare. It's one of a man reliving a period of time he'd rather forget but knowing he never can.

Once upon a time, I could read the man like a book. Instinctively, I know whatever it is that made him a closed book now has to do with the death of his wife and career.

My gut also tells me there's more to the story than a tragic car accident that ended with her dead.

"I don't even know where to start."

"How about from the beginning?"

He blows out a breath and nods once, looking as though he's mentally taking a step off a cliff. "You know about the car accident."

"I think the whole world knows about the car accident. And your subsequent release from your contract."

A muscle in his cheek tics as he holds my gaze. "Yeah, what they don't know is the truth."