Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

RYLAND

“Two weeks?” I shout while Janet packs up her tools.

“Yes, that’s when I can get the part, but then there’s installation and fixing the tiling. Might be about two to three weeks, depending.”

“Jesus,” I say as I tug on my hair in frustration. “You can’t just go and find one at the local store?”

She shakes her head. “Supplies are low from the housing boom. Everyone’s struggling to find parts at the moment. It’s two to three weeks for everything.” Janet pats my arm. “Sucks to be a landlord, doesn’t it?”

Yeah, I’m figuring that out more and more with each passing day.

“I’ll bill you and be in touch about the part when it comes in. Have a good one.”

And with that, she takes off, leaving me with some pretty shitty information. There’s something wrong with the pipes behind the tiled wall. Since Janet had to tear the wall open to figure it out, not only does she have to change out the part—she explained what it was, but I blacked out—but she also has to fix the wall after that. This is not what I anticipated.

I thought it might be an easy fix, a little poke here, a little poke there—shows how much I know about plumbing—and then Gabby would be using her shower tonight. Fuck, was I wrong.

Also, really fucking annoying this wasn’t picked up during the inspection before we closed. That’s just my luck, though.

I straighten up Gabby’s bathroom since Janet moved some things around. Then I head into her living room, pausing for a moment as I take in the cozy space.

This starkly contrasts what I have going on at the house. Sure, we just moved in, but I know it won’t look like this when I’m done putting things away. We have very few pieces of furniture. I sure as hell don’t have a rug, nor do I have curtains. We don’t have any decorations, and any pictures we might have are small ones that go on a mantel rather than a wall.

Mac deserves a space like this, something cozy and comfy, that reminds her of her mom’s love.

I look toward the door, checking to see if Gabby has returned. She said she was heading out when Janet stopped by, so I feel like I have a little time. Therefore, I pull out my phone, open up the camera, and take a few pictures of her place as inspiration. There’s no way I could remember this, but with a little bit of?—

“What are you doing?”

Startled out of my goddamn shorts, I fumble my phone only for it to tumble out of my hands and straight to the floor, where it crashes with a crack, breaking the screen.

I grip my chest as I bend down to pick it up and stare back at her.

Wearing a pair of jean shorts and a tank top with her hair coming out the back of a hat, she stares at me, hand propped on her hip, looking none too pleased.

Fuck, she’s hot, even when she looks irritated.

Trying to return to a normal heart rhythm, I say, “I was, uh . . . I was trying?—”

“You were creeping on me.”

I feel my brows turn down in a frown. “I was not creeping on you.”

“Then what were you doing?”

Yeah, Ryland, what were you doing?

“Checking a text message,” I say, not even believing the words as they come out of my mouth.

“Really? You check a text message like that, holding your phone high, your fingers making it look like you’re taking pictures of my place.”

Well, when she puts it like that.

“It’s a position I use for neck pain,” I say.

She walks farther into the apartment, right up to me, and says, “Hand me your phone.”

My height overpowers hers, but the attitude in her hip pop screams “try me.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I want to see if you took pictures.”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

“No.”

I shake my head in disappointment. “That’s hurtful.”

“Just give me your phone,” she says while snagging it out of my hands. She briefly studies my phone. “Your screen is cracked.”

“Uh, yeah, from you scaring me.”

“Karma.”

She flashes the phone at my face to unlock it, then pulls up the pictures. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes sear into me. “You did take pictures of my place. Why? What are you going to do with them?”

I grab my phone and slip it in my pocket. “Nothing.”

“Uh, lies. What were you going to do? Is this some sort of creepy, perverted thing? Like take pictures of the places that belong to the women you’ve banged?”

My face falls flat with derision. “Yes, Gabby. I have an entire collection of random living rooms in my phone.”

She nods, then pokes my chest. “I knew it. That’s some sick stuff, Ryland. Do you stare at night and reminisce?”

“You realize how ridiculous you sound?”

She points at her chest. “I’m not the ridiculous one in this scenario. That would be you. Taking pictures of random girls’ living rooms. That’s real sick.”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t being a creep.”

“Then what were you doing?”

Seeing as though she’s not going to drop this, I just go with the truth. “Use them as an example.”

Her face contorts to the side. “An example for what?”

“For . . . for decorating,” I say, feeling all kinds of embarrassed.

“Decorating?” Her nose scrunches up in confusion.

I shrug, trying to pass this conversation off as anything but embarrassing. “You did a nice job, and I figured I could sort of use it as inspiration to give Mac a better place to live.”

Her expression softens, and her defensive position eases. “Oh . . . well . . . that’s nice of you. Thank you.”

“Sure,” I reply as I stick my hands in my pockets. “I can delete them, though, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine. Use them as an example.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she says, looking just as awkward as I feel.

“Thanks,” I say, then clear my throat.

“Yeah.” She toes the floor as silence settles between us.

When she lifts her eyes, I can’t help but stare at the two different colors and the way they sparkle in the sunlight. I can remember those eyes staring up at me when I drove into her, seeing the pleasure cross over her from my touch.

A lump of frustration forms in my throat, but I quickly swallow it away. What I wouldn’t give for another moment with her, but I know that can’t happen, so I need to tuck that away.

“Uh, about the shower,” I say, tugging on my hair.

“Is it fixed?” she asks, looking unfortunately hopeful.

“Not so much,” I say, causing her shoulders to droop.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sorry. Janet had to open up the wall and order a part, so it’s kind of a disaster in there. I tried to make it as clean as possible so you could still use the sink and toilet—which she checked on and that is all good to go—but the shower will be about two to three weeks.”

“What?” she shouts. “Two to three weeks?”

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either. But yeah, it will take time for the part to get in, then it will take time to patch and tile the hole. It’s a lengthy process.”

Defeated, she sits on the arm of the couch. “So I’ll be without a shower for two to three weeks.”

“No, I mean you can use my shower. I know that it’s not ideal, but it’s there and available.” Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a key to the house and set it on the coffee table for her. “Here’s a key. You can come and go as you please. I’m really sorry. I wish I had better news.”

“So do I.” She sighs. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She looks up at me. “Well, I guess just expect me to pop in at night. I won’t bother you in the morning. I’m sure it’s a race to get out the door with your niece.”

“Mac,” I say. “Or MacKenzie.”

“Right, sorry. But yeah, I’ll be there at night.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”

“Thanks.”

And then we stare again.

The tension between us is thick as her eyes float to my mouth, and my eyes check out her full lips.

I can still feel them all over me, and it’s been weeks.

Fucking weeks and the kisses she spread over my body feel like a sharp branding, a feeling I’m not sure I’ll ever shake.

I clear my throat, bringing her eyes back to mine.

“Um, is that all?” she asks as she tugs on her hair.

“Yeah,” I say as my gaze falls to her lips one last time. “That’s all.”

“Okay,” she replies with uncertainty.

This is exactly why I need to stay away from her.

This reason, right here.

Because I can’t seem to get myself to leave. I can’t seem to tell myself to stop staring at her. And the only thing holding me back from pushing her up against the wall and mauling her is the smallest hint of will that’s telling me I’ll regret it.

That it’ll open up a tidal wave of bad decisions that I can’t handle right now.

The best thing for me to do is get the hell out of here before I do something I regret. Because I can’t stop staring into her eyes, or at her lips . . . or repress the urge to pull her into me.

It’s time to leave now.

“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Awkwardly, I nod, then scoot past her, trying not to brush up against her while I take off.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Herbert,” I say as I pace my principal’s office. The brightly lit room decorated in academic accomplishments is a stark contrast to the maddened mood I’m experiencing.

“Do you think I’d just say things to piss you off?” Herbert asks as he pinches his brow, clearly not in the mood to deal with me right now, but I couldn’t give two shits.

I place both hands on my hips as Mac sits in the chair in front of me, playing on an iPad with headphones. “I’m beginning to think that you are.”

After the whole shower debacle, I came to the school to get some things set up for the school year when I got a call from Mac’s daycare saying that she scraped her knee and wanted to be taken home.

Normally, I would have told the kid to suck it up and deal with it, kind of like what I tell my boys on the baseball team. But this is Mac. She’s been through a lot, and I want her to know I’ll be there no matter what—even if it’s a minor knee scrape. So I picked her up and took her to my classroom, where I hooked her up with an iPad and headphones. I logged into Disney+ so she could watch Tangled for the millionth time. Her favorite character is Maximus. Are you even surprised?

“Ryland, please, the school year hasn’t even started yet. I can’t deal with this headache.”

“I’m not the one creating a headache, Herbert. David is. He’s the one who hired an assistant without discussing it with us. He’s the one who is giving up my fucking office to the new assistant.”

“Because the assistant office is attached to the locker room, and well, since she’s a female, she can’t really be in the locker room while the underage male players change.”

I pinch my brow. “I understand that, Herbert. Given the situation, I’m more than understanding, but that doesn’t mean she should take my office. Give her a fucking coat closet to sit in. Have her sit with the women coaches. Why give her my office?”

“I’m working on it, okay?”

“Are you? Because at this rate, she’s going to have my job soon, and I worked damn hard for that job.”

“I know, Ryland. I know.” He exhales and leans back in his chair. “I have to navigate the system, though. It’s more than just giving her a different office. I have to please David because what he thinks impacts my job as well.”

I lean against the office wall, arms crossed. “Well, maybe David should stop living on some power trip and let the people in the job do their job. This is getting absurd.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how school politics work.”

“Clearly.” I drag my hands down my face, this conversation doing nothing for my mood.

“Can I just ask—in the meantime while I figure out this office thing—that you let her use your space?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this. And when do I get to meet this new assistant of mine? I’ve been out on the field, working on it all by myself. Does she realize we have fall practice? Does she care to come out and help as well?”

“I can set up a meeting if that’s what you’d like,” Herbert says.

“I don’t know, Herbert, what do you think?”

His face falls flat. “You don’t have to be an ass, Rowley.”

“Well, help me out here, Herbert. Because . . . fuck.”

He tamps me down with his hand as he takes a peek at Mac. I know she can’t hear a thing, so I’m not worried. “I know. I know. I’ll set up a meeting. We’ll get this figured out.”

“Good,” I huff. “I’d like to at least see her qualifications before the school year starts and maybe introduce her to an infield rake.”

Herbert nods and makes a note on a piece of paper. “I’ll set something up. How is your Friday looking?”

“Free.”

“Then consider it done. Now, can you please attempt to calm down?”

I shake my head. “Not that easy.”