20. Harper

“ID,” the giant standing at the door barked.

“Oh.” I should probably have expected that, but it had been so long since I’d gone out like this that it hadn’t even crossed my mind. As I was digging my wallet out of my bag, my phone buzzed.

Jace: What’s the name of the pizza place the kids like?

For the love of God, it was almost eight thirty, and he was only now thinking about feeding them? I guessed I shouldn’t be so surprised. He had been almost an hour late, so why wouldn’t dinner be late too? I knew better than to bring it up, though. If I did, it would lead to a fight and delay dinner further, so I just fired off the answer and then got my driver’s license out.

An exasperated sigh sounded behind me, garnering my attention. The group of women behind me were all dressed in ridiculously short dresses and sky-high heels. My own leggings and boots screamed mom suddenly. But it was November in Boston. I was wearing double the clothing these girls were, and I was still freezing. The one closest to me scrutinized my sweater, then turned her nose up like it offended her. Tough shit. So I wasn’t wearing a sparkling cropped tank top like her and every other Gen Zer in the line. Even if I had the first clue what was in style these days, it wouldn’t matter. The last time I’d purchased new clothing was probably shortly after Sam was born.

I’d had lunch with Zara three times over the last couple of weeks, and I’d never felt dowdy or frumpy. But beside these women, I felt very out of place.

“You’re good.” The bouncer tipped his head like I should go in.

But I wasn’t sure where to go. Zara had said they would check the list and send me the right way. I’d waited almost forty minutes already, and I still didn’t have the first clue.

“I think I’m supposed to tell you that I’m here for Zara Price’s party?”

He lifted one dark brow and peered down at me. “Why didn’t you go to the VIP line?” He pointed to the other side of the door, where two people stood at a podium and there wasn’t a single person in line.

Why? Because I had no idea what I was doing. There was a line here, so I got in it.

“Harper.”

At the sound of my name, I turned. A blond in ripped jeans and a gorgeous brunette in a crop top and black leggings very similar to mine—although with her curves, she wore them much better—approached. I’d met them at the stadium. The blond had pulled the bird off me.

“Hi.” I half waved to the two women who were now standing by the VIP check-in. Although I wasn’t positive of their names, they were definitely part of the Revs’ wives and girlfriends group. The realization that neither of them was dressed like the women in line behind me made me feel a million times better.

“Are they giving you a hard time, Avery?” Christian—I thought he was the pitcher for team—came up beside the blond and scowled.

“Damiano!”

“Dragon!”

The calls echoed from the line I was holding up, but Christian ignored the noise like he hadn’t heard it, remaining completely focused on Avery.

“No.” She shook her head and pointed my way. “We were grabbing Harper.”

“Oh.” The corner of his mouth tipped up almost imperceptibly at the sight of me, making him look slightly less pissed off. “Wrong line. Come this way.” He waved my way, and the bouncer let me out through the red rope.

“Wait, Dragon,” a man called.

This time Christian turned, as if suddenly the outside world existed to him. Though when I recognized the man as another Revs player, it made more sense.

“I said no.” Christian glared.

“Need me to scare them off?” The curvy brunette’s glare rivaled Christian’s as she turned to the line of mostly women.

“Not them. It’s kids, Mariposa.” Emerson, that was his name, shrugged sheepishly.

“Kids at a bar?” Christian huffed, a brow cocked.

Emerson shook his head. “They were coming out of the restaurant next door.”

“Gi, watch these two,” Christian barked at the brunette.

In response, she crossed her arms under her chest and cocked a brow that looked eerily like Christian’s. She stared the man down, as if silently saying who do you think you are to boss me around?

Unfazed by her death look, Christian squeezed Avery’s shoulder. Then he pulled a rose-gold Sharpie out of his pocket and followed Emerson down the street, where he squatted to pose for a photo with two boys who looked about ten.

“That was nice of them,” I said.

“They always make time for kids.” The brunette—Gianna, I remembered—watched them with an expression that could almost be considered soft.

A minute later, the guys came back and hustled us past the two security guards and up to the second floor. The space was much bigger than I expected, since Zara had insisted she didn’t know many people in Boston and that it was a small party. But there had to be at least twenty high-top tables, and each was surrounded, meaning there were a good hundred people here. It took a moment, but eventually, I found her. She was dressed in a silver tank top and black skirt, like a classier, trendier version of every woman in the line outside.

“Harper,” she called when she spotted me. Beaming, she beckoned me over with a wave. “I’m so glad you came.” After receiving two air kisses from her, I turned to greet the rest of the table.

Kyle, who was dressed in a white button-down, stood next to Cam. Our eyes locked, and a bolt of electricity buzzed through me. His irises darkened as he took me in from head to toe and back up again. The top button of his shirt was open, showing off the thick column of his neck. His perpetual five-o’clock shadow was gone, and in its place was a smooth, hard jaw line. Though it softened as he lit up, grinning, and angled toward me. His exhale brushed across my skin before full lips pressed to my cheek. He pulled in a slow breath, making a shiver race down my spine. My skin broke out in goose bumps, and for a second, I forgot to breathe. Frozen, I swallowed harshly, willing my racing heart to steady.

When he was this close, the rest of the room faded away.

“You smell delicious, Crabby.” His lips brushed my ear as the almost silent words registered, and a fire ignited low in my belly. He pulled back, but not far enough to deprive me of his body heat.

I wet my lips, and his eyes locked on to my mouth, cranking up the heat in my core.

Cam cleared his throat and elbowed his friend, pulling us back to the present.

Kyle frowned at him before turning back to me, his expression turning light. “It’s like you’re whipped-cream scented.” He smirked.

I never wore perfume, knowing it bothered Piper, so it had to be my lotion.

“We all know you love sugar,” I teased, holding tight to the charged moment.

He laughed, and above his white collar, his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbed, snagging my attention. From there, I couldn’t help but survey his jaw, then his lips.

“Hey.”

Kyle jerked back, his head snapping to one side, where Emerson was watching him with his brows arched.

“I need my backup, Streaks.”

With a nod, Kyle eyed me once more. “I’ll be back.” The words were laced with a promise that bubbled with anticipation in my belly.

The moment they disappeared, Avery leaned in. “Is there something going on between you two?”

With my heart lodged in my throat, I shook my head.

“Are you sure?” Gianna asked. “Because that looked like something.”

“See how easy it is to recognize from the outside?” Avery giggled.

Gianna rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“We all knew something was going on between her and Emerson long before he finally came to Chris and copped to it.”

Christian grunted.

Confused, I glanced at the man in question. “To you?”

Christian frowned but didn’t respond.

“He’s my brother, and Emerson is his best friend.” Gianna shrugged, her expression unimpressed. “Emerson was worried he’d have an opinion on the matter.”

Our conversation was cut short when music blared from the stage nearby. Emerson stood front and center, with Asher, Kyle, and Mason behind him. It took three beats before I recognized the Katy Perry song.

“Eyes on me, Mariposa,” Emerson said into the mic, and Gianna flushed, a small smile tipping her lips.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. He thought I would do this with them?” Christian shook his head, and when his best friend sang the first line of the song about two octaves too high, he stepped back from the table. “I’m getting a drink.”

But Gianna and Avery giggled at the guys who were dancing to “Teenage Dream,” heart hands, chest tapping, choreographed spins, and all.

“They practiced for like two hours last night. Emerson wanted it to be perfect for her.” Zara sighed, her head tilting to one side.

“Did Asher plan one for you too?” I asked.

She scrunched her nose up and shook her head. “That nonsense stopped years ago for us.” Though she was trying to play it off, acting as if she wouldn’t care for a gesture like this, there was just a hint of longing in her voice.

I looked up, intending to study Asher, because here and there, she made comments about their relationship that surprised me. As if it wasn’t as picture perfect as it seemed. But the second my attention shifted to the stage, Kyle stole my focus. Although Emerson couldn’t look away from Gianna as he danced and sang, there was no reason for Kyle to be looking our way. Especially not with the number of beautiful women around. On all sides, there were cheers and catcalls.

Still, Kyle’s focus was fixed on our table. Our eyes met, and his smile grew. It became more teasing as he formed a heart with his hands, then lifted it to circle his head. Just before he turned, he winked. And somehow, that tiny gesture felt as intimate as a kiss. It warmed me from the inside out.

Stomach dropping, I gaped at him. Holy shit. Somehow, I had let myself start crushing on Kyle freaking Bosco. Internally, I cringed. Was I seriously dumb enough to fall for the playboy man-child of the Boston Revs?

Apparently. Except…

The Kyle I knew, the man who had been showing up for both me and my kids, was the farthest thing from a man-child or a playboy. Yeah, maybe he was obsessed with M&M’s and whipped cream. Maybe he was unable to lose gracefully. But he was always eager to help. And the way he looked at me said he cared.

“You okay? You look utterly gobsmacked.” Zara pushed her black hair behind her ear as she studied me.

With a shake of my head, I worked to dislodge the ridiculous thoughts from my mind. Kyle Bosco was gorgeous, rich, famous, and, it turned out, a decent guy.

But he had hordes of women throwing themselves at him. Tonight alone. At this very moment, there were two tables full of women trying to get his attention, calling his name, holding up their phones to record his moves, whispering to one another. We might have had a few deep moments, but to think he was interested in me, and my very momish clothes, was absurd.

“Just out of my element,” I admitted.

“Rubbish.” She frowned. “Let’s?—”

“Zara!”

She turned. “Wren.”

She greeted the taller woman with two air kisses.

“Do you know Harper?” She waved my way. “Harper, Wren is Avery’s best friend.”

I waved, and Wren sent me a smile.

“I adore the shoes.” Zara pulled back as she glanced down at the strappy designer pumps with red soles.

Wren tipped her head, and the front of her reverse bob brushed her bare shoulders. “The newest addition to my overflowing closet.” She laughed. “And they go perfectly with this dress.”

“Are you not freezing?” The deep voice from behind me had me jumping.

As I turned, I saw the coach of the Revs standing, frowning at Wren’s long, bare legs. The short sleeveless dress, although stunning on Wren, was much more Miami than November in Boston.

Wren batted her eyes. “Don’t you know the expression beauty knows no pain , Daddy Wilson?”

His frown deepened as his eyes lifted to hers. “Mr. Wilson,” he corrected, but I could have sworn something flashed in his eyes before he schooled his features.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Wilson. You can buy me a drink for trying to kill my vibe.” She latched on to his arm and tugged him toward the bar, leaving me wondering what exactly was going on between the young, stunning woman and the much older coach.

“Let’s go grab a drink for you too,” Zara insisted.

It sounded like a fantastic idea. But before we could move, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my leggings. I pulled it out, and when I caught sight of Jace’s name on the screen, my stomach sank. Crap. There was a good chance that the night was already over. I held a finger up, and when Zara nodded, I slid my thumb across my phone’s screen and held it to my ear.

“Hello?” Instantly, I realized there was no way I’d be able to hear anything he said, so I stepped away from the stage. “Jace?”

I walked toward the edge of the room, but between the music, the singing, and the chatter, I couldn’t make out his words.

“Hold on.” I slipped down the stairs and into a quieter hallway with black walls and dim lighting. “Hello?” I tried again.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Jace.” I sighed. He no longer had the right to ask that kind of question, but I wasn’t interested in arguing at the moment. “I told you I was going to Zara’s birthday party tonight.”

“That’s right. Friends with Revs royalty now,” he sneered. “I bet Bosco is there too. The kids haven’t stopped talking about him, by the way.”

“Great. Something you have in common, since you’re a fan. Piper would love to chat all about the Revs with you.”

He grunted.

Irritation flared inside me, but I tamped it down and kept my tone even as I asked, “So, is there a problem?”

A woman in a short dress slipped past me and sashayed toward a black door. Only then did I realize this small, dark hallway led to the bathrooms.

“Yeah, can you tell Piper that I ordered the right pizza? I’m putting you on speaker.” There was a rustle down the line, a little fumbling, and the sound of Bluey on the television in the background.

“Hey, Pipe. Daddy checked with me about the pizza. He ordered it from Gio’s.”

“Are you sure?” The nervousness in her voice made my heart squeeze. God, why couldn’t Jace figure his shit out and work on his relationship with her? If he did, then he’d know how to calm her.

“I am,” I promised. After a quick good-night to her and one to Sam, I ended the call and blew out a breath. He had things at least partially under control tonight. With any luck, it would be enough to keep them content until he dropped them off at ten tomorrow morning. That wasn’t always the case. Some nights they didn’t even get out the door of my apartment.

I slipped out of the hallway and turned for the stairs, but I had just planted my foot on the first step when I heard the familiar voice.

“Harper?”

Turning, I pasted a smile to my lips, even as unease tugged at my gut. “Trevor.”

He looked good in his dress shirt and fitted jeans, his baby blues sparkling and a big smile on his lips. But I wasn’t interested, and he wasn’t taking the hint.

“I wasn’t sure you’d really be here.” He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah.” I pointed awkwardly over my shoulder. “My friend’s party is upstairs.”

“You know Zara Price?” A guy I’d never seen before butted into the conversation.

“Mitch.” Trevor frowned.

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy said. “Mitchell Houton.” He held out his hand, and, hesitantly, I shook it. “You know Zara Price?” he repeated.

I nodded. “Our kids are friends.”

“Harper,” Zara called from halfway up the steps, catching the attention of half the patrons downstairs. “Where did you get off to?”

People all over the bar edged toward the stairs, realizing she was just a few feet away.

“We’re hogging her. Sorry about that.” Trevor smiled past the two big men who had taken up residence at the bottom of the stairs to stop unwelcome guests from coming toward Zara.

“No worries.” She waved dismissively.

A man in a suit a step behind her whispered in her ear, snagging her attention.

With a nod at him, she turned back to me. “Bring your friends up, Harper,” she called. Then she turned and jogged back up the stairs.

I held back a wince, wishing I could uninvite the guys. But good manners took over, so with a tight smile, I moved up the steps past the two men, with Trevor and Mitch on my heels.

When I hit the top, I headed straight for Zara, who was only a few feet away, as if she was waiting for me. “This is my neighbor Trevor, and his friend Mitch.”

Trevor held out his hand. “Happy birthday,” he said to Zara. “Thanks for letting us up.”

“Any mate of Harper’s is a mate of mine.” She snaked her arm through mine. “You must come. Asher just went for drinks, and Kyle is singing.”

That was Kyle? I’d recognized the Billy Joel song from the stairs, though I hadn’t recognized the voice. As we stepped through the opening in the curtain and into the big room, there he was, mic in hand. The lyrics for “Only the Good Die Young,” one of my favorite songs, poured easily from his lips. He wasn’t even off key.

As if he could sense my presence, he found me immediately, and a smirk lifted his lips. Instantly, butterflies flitted through my stomach, and once again, something that felt like anticipation settled in my chest. But his smirk fell as his gaze moved past me, and he didn’t look back my way.

“He always sings this one. But it still took me forever to work out the meaning of his tattoo.” She led me back to the high-top.

“Tattoo?” I asked, my focus locked on Kyle. He’d rolled the sleeves of his white button-down to his elbows, showing off the tan skin of his forearms.

“I have a feeling you’ll become acquainted with it very soon,” Zara said, her voice full of innuendo.

Before I could refute, Trevor edged in closer and interrupted. “Love your accent.”

“Flirting with my girl?” Asher set two martini glasses filled with some sort of pink drink in front of us, then pushed one my way and hooked the other to his wife.

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, then shifted his attention to Zara. “Trying to make me jealous, wife?”

“Like you’d ever be jealous.” Zara rolled her eyes, though the expression was full of affection.

Asher cozied up behind her and wrapped his large arm around her tiny waist. “You’re gorgeous, and tonight, everyone sees it. I don’t think I’ll be able to let you out of my arms.”

“That would be a pleasant change.” She smiled, and as he crowded even closer and kissed her bare shoulder, I swore she shuddered.

I had thought they were having issues, but clearly, I was wrong. It was easy to see that Asher was smitten with his wife. And when I looked back to the stage, I found I’d been wrong about Kyle too. His song had ended, and he hadn’t come our way. No, he’d found another group to hang out with. One full of scantily dressed women. The instant the scene registered, all the anticipation bubbling in my system dissipated, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I reminded myself again that single moms in their thirties didn’t end up with baseball stars. I was entirely too old to believe in fairy tales.