Chapter 3

Chapter Three

GABBY

Three days later . . .

“You know, I never thought I was going to be the one who would have to come to you,” Bower says as she stands outside my apartment, holding a can of whipped cream in one hand and a jar of maraschino cherries in the other.

I don’t bother with the door. She can handle it as I make my way back to the couch where I’ve been rotting ever since I returned from Almond Bay. Since I don’t work on Mondays, I decided to carry through my weekend depression for one more day.

And why do I have a weekend depression?

Um, because I experienced the best sex of my life, that’s why.

How does that calculate depression?

Well, for one, I was hoping Ryland would turn out to be a dud so I could hold that against him.

That was not the case at all.

In fact, he was anything but a dud . . . not to be cheesy, but he was more like a stud.

That man knows how to fuck.

He knows how to fuck with no feelings but rather chase pleasure, which has inadvertently put me into this state of depression because I know I won’t have it again.

I flop back on the couch and curl my holey-sweatpants-covered legs up to my chest, holding them tightly.

“This is all your fault.”

Bower takes a seat next to me and pops open the cherry jar. I take it from her and thank the heavens above that she grabbed the unstemmed cherries. I plop a few in my mouth and chew.

“What’s my fault?” she asks before she sprays some whipped cream into her mouth.

“This feeling I have. It’s your fault.”

“And what feeling would that be?” I open my mouth, and she squirts some whipped cream against my tongue. I plop a cherry against it and chew before answering.

“This depressed feeling.”

“Depressed?” she asks, confused. “Why the hell are you depressed? You had amazing sex. How is that depressing?”

“It’s depressing because I now know what amazing sex is, and I know for a fact I will never have it again. I never should have even considered your asinine idea of making a move on Ryland Rowley. Now look at me, depressed and sad. Sometimes I can still feel him between my legs when I walk.”

Bower smirks. “That’s hot.”

“Bower,” I complain and nudge her with my foot. “You ruined me.”

She shakes her head. “No, Ryland Rowley ruined you. I just encouraged you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.” I set the cherries down and curl in on myself. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and it’s depressing. For one, I shouldn’t be thinking about the jerk who didn’t even remember who I was. Or the jerk who couldn’t bother to show up to my interview. But because he made me come multiple times in one night, he’s all I can think about, and he’s all my body wants. Like . . . I feel needy, Bower.”

She chuckles. “That’s what a good dick will do to you. It will make you feel needy.”

“Bower, I don’t want to feel needy for a dick.”

She continues to laugh. “Unfortunately, we have no control over it.”

I groan and stare at the ceiling. “This is stupid. All of this is stupid. I really needed that job. I thought I had a chance, especially since my teaching abilities speak for themselves, let alone my coaching and how I was able to help my brother reach the minor leagues. It’s just so . . . so . . .”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Is that your phone?” Bower asks.

I glance at the coffee table where my phone vibrates against the hard wood, an Almond Bay number flashing across the screen.

I feel my breath steel in my chest as I reach for the phone.

“Who is it?” Bower asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s an Almond Bay number.”

She nudges me with her foot.

“Well, answer it.”

I swipe on my phone and put it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Miss Brinkman?”

“It is,” I say, feeling my nerves dance in my stomach.

“Hello, Miss Brinkman. This is David Ganbear. How are you today?”

My mouth falls open as I squeeze my eyes shut, all hope riding on this phone call that I never expected to receive.

“I’m doing great. How are you?”

“Good, good. I’m calling you about the job you interviewed for on Friday.” Bower shakes my foot quietly, her excitement making me giddy. Please don’t let this be a rejection. “We thought you would be perfect for the position and want to offer you a teaching job as well as the assistant coaching position.”

Holy shit.

Oh my God.

Is this a joke?

Please don’t let it be a joke. I don’t think my heart can handle it.

“Really?” I ask as Bower pumps her arms up and down, cheering silently.

“Yes, really. I’m going to have HR send over the paperwork along with the offer. Please take your time to think about?—”

“I’ll take it,” I nearly shout.

David chuckles. “Are you sure? You don’t want to think about it?”

“Nope,” I say. “I’ll take it.”

“Well . . . that’s great to hear. We’re excited to have you on staff, especially as our new assistant baseball coach. We have a great program, but I think we need a bit of a feminine touch to take us to the next level.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ganbear, this means a lot. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

“Of course. Look out for an email from HR. We shall see you in about two months when the school year starts. Oh, and if you need help finding a place to live, I know of a place in town near the school that might work great.”

“That would be amazing. I know how hard it is to find housing in town, so any suggestions would be appreciated.”

“I’ll be sure to send it over. We’re excited to have you.”

“Thank you,” I say before we both say bye, and I disconnect the call.

“Oh my God!” Bower squeals, then launches herself on me. “You got the job. You got the freaking job.”

Tears well up in my eyes. This is the kind of break that Bennett and I need. Based on what Mr. Ganbear said during the interview, the salary alone will be more than enough. I’ll be helping Bennett and getting my foot in the door of a male-dominated position.

“I can’t believe it.” I shake my head. “I really thought I messed it up.”

“You didn’t. You nailed it. Ugh, how satisfying.” Bower pulls me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” When I back away, I say, “But that means I have to move.”

“I know,” she says with a sad smile. “But we knew that when you went for the interview, and we were willing to face that hardship for an opportunity like this. It’s not like you’re that far away. Three hours is drivable. This is what you need.”

“I know.” I smile, sitting back on the couch. “I can’t believe it. This is amazing. Really freaking . . .” My mind starts connecting the dots, and I think about what this means. “Holy shit, Bower.”

“What?” she asks.

“I got the job.”

“I know.” She smiles and takes my hands in hers, dancing them about. “We got the job.”

“No.” I grow serious. “I got the job.”

She matches my energy as she nods. “Yes, you got the job.”

“Don’t you know what that means?”

Confused, she asks, “More opportunity?”

“No, Bower.” I grip her shoulders. “It means I have to work with Ryland Rowley. The man who just rocked my world!”

“Ohhhh,” she says, shrugging. “So?”

“So?” I ask, getting up from the couch. “All you have to say is so? Bower, this is not a shrug, ‘so’ moment. This is a holy shit, we need to freak out moment.”

“I don’t see why. So you had sex, who cares?”

I point at my chest. “I do. I care. I care a whole fucking lot. I told him . . . oh, Jesus.” I grip my head, remembering that night. “I told him I was a travel blogger, or something like that, going from town to town writing about all the quirky places I stay.”

“Why would you say that?” she asks with a snarl to her lip.

“Because I didn’t think I was going to see him again,” I say through clenched teeth. “I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I was going to get that job, so I thought, why not throw all caution to the wind, make up an alter ego, and run with it.”

“Well, good job accomplishing that plan.”

“Bower,” I groan, pacing the living room of my tiny apartment. “This is serious. What the hell am I going to do? Should I call Mr. Ganbear back and tell him I regret to inform him that I actually can’t take the job because I fucked his head coach and he thinks I’m a travel blogger?”

“Uh . . . no.”

“Then what?” I ask, holding my hands out.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Does this face look like someone who knows the obvious?” I ask, pointing at my face.

“Possibly.”

“Bower,” I groan. “Come on. This is serious.”

“It’s serious, but it’s nothing to be worried about. Do you know why? Because you’re going to walk into that school and on that baseball field like you own it, just like you owned Ryland Rowley the other night.”

“I did not own him. He owned me.”

She shakes her head. “Not how it works. A man can only own a woman in the bedroom if she allows it. Therefore, you owned him.”

I go to argue but then think about it for a second. I mean, she’s kind of right. I have to give him permission to own and control my body like he did . . . maybe I did own him. And I let the man spank me. Spank. Me.

“I can see it in your eyes. You owned him.”

“I mean . . . maybe I did a little. He did come really hard and then had to lay on the bed a bit to catch his breath.”

“See. You owned him. So take that power you harnessed and walk into Almond Bay unapologetically.”

“Do you really think I can do that? I mean, I lied to him and slept with him. Don’t you think it will be awkward?”

“Only if you make it.” She crosses her legs. “This is an opportunity, Gabby, one that you need. Do not let it slip by you because you took one night for yourself and did something unapologetically. Also, when have you ever cared what people thought?”

“True,” I say as I sit on the couch again. She takes my hand and looks me in the eyes.

“You go into Almond Bay and turn that town upside down. That includes Ryland Rowley.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I can do this. I’m going to do this.” Chin held high, I add, “Look out, Almond Bay, I’m coming.”

“In more ways than one,” Bower adds with a waggle of her brows.

“Oh my God,” I say as I push my friend away. “Trust me, if there is one thing I know for sure, sex with Ryland Rowley is completely off the table. No one will be coming . . . for a while.”