Daring the Wild Sparks (40 page)

I clear my throat and set the bottle down, staring blankly at the brown glass. “I’ve been dared to coach a softball team.”

“What?” I peer up to Reed’s face falling in disappointment. “That’s
all
?”

I pithily inhale and prepare for the next barrage of personal questions. “I’ll be the head coach. I already talked to Hank about it and he said I could do live segments from the ball field. I emphatically look at Milo and Reed. “I’d need you there. I’m going to include footage from practices and games as part of my weekly report too.”

Milo nods. “Okay. What kind of team is it? High school? College?”

I chew on my lip again, thinking how to describe it without giving too much away. “Community. It’s a law firm I’ll be coaching. They’ll be playing against other businesses.” Our waitress must’ve read my mind, seeing I’m in desperate need, because she delivers another beer. I lift the bottle and between sips, shrug. “It’ll be fun.” That’s not why I’m doing it though.

Cara crosses her legs and brushes one against mine, and I move so she has room. She asks, “Who dared you?”

I briefly glance at her. “A friend of mine.” If I’d call Greg Rodwell that.

Milo’s eyes skeptically scour my face as I try to appear indifferent. “A friend dared you to coach a softball team? Is this something you actually want to do or are you doing it out of obligation to your friend?”

“I want to do it,”
No. I
need
to do it
, “but I can’t do it alone. Since the team is small, nobody from the firm will be able to coach; therefore, I’ll need some assistant coaches to cover me when I can’t be at practices or games because of work.”

“I used to play softball in high school,” Cara speaks up.

I sway my head to face her. “You did? What position?”

“Third base. I loved playing. I’ll help you coach, if you want.”

I contemplate that. “Really? I played first base in high school.” I nod. “Yeah. That’ll work. A buddy of mine would also be a good coach, but I haven’t talked to him yet. I think two assistants are plenty. You’d really want to help me coach a softball team?”

She affectedly grins, arching an eyebrow. “Sure. Why not? I’ll get to hang out with you, which is cool because I think you are so adorable.” She reaches up and pats my cheek.

“Um, thanks?” I raise an eyebrow at her and lift my bottle to my lips. She’s rather touch-feely tonight. Maybe she should’ve sat next to Reed, helped him pull the bur out of his ass.

Milo throws money down on the table and stands. “Well, Mr. Adorable, it’s been real, but I have a phone call to make. I’ll catch you in the morning.”

“Same thing. I need to check in on my kid.” Reed scoots out of the booth after Milo.

“See you,” I mumble around the mouth of my bottle.

I glance at Milo’s remaining fries, but I don’t have any kind of appetite after talking to Becks. I miss her already. Why does she need so much time to think? Doesn’t she want me? I want her more than my own life. I was telling her the truth last night. My whole body constantly aches for her, the throbbing the most pronounced in my chest. Fuck. Maybe I am a pussy.

Cara brushes her hand against mine. “You look so sad. What’s really going on with you?”

Sliding my hand away, I pick up my beer. “Nothing’s going on.”

“You can’t lie about it. There’s something bothering you. You can talk to me. Is it your girlfriend?”

I swallow a mouthful of beer and glare at the table, feeling the slight buzz working through my head. Before I realize what I’m doing, I admit, “We had a fight.”

“Couples fight all the time.”

“I think she might break up with me.” What the hell is wrong with my brain? Why am I confessing my intimate problems with Cara?

“After getting a tattoo for her? That sucks.”

I prop my elbow in front of me and close my eyes to the table. “Tell me about it.” I don’t give a shit about the tattoo. I’ll wear it forever to remind me of what I once had.

She touches my arm. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

“I’m fine,” I mumble against my hand.

“You don’t seem fine. You seem lonely.”

“So? I’m away from home a lot.”

“That’s not why I think you’re lonely. I think it’s because you’re unhappy.”

I drop my arm and gape at her. “I’m unhappy
because
I’m lonely,” I snap.

“Why did you two fight?”

Grabbing my beer, I angrily sigh. “Because she’s stubborn and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“What did she do?”

I look from my bottle to the bar. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Finn, I want to help. Maybe I can give you a woman’s perspective.”

“I don’t think anyone can help. It’s something I have to work through.”

“Sounds like it’s something
she
has to work through, not you.”

I slant my head back, looking up at the wood-paneled ceiling above us. “I asked her to move in with me. She said she would, but now she needs time to think about it.”

“Think about moving in with you? That’s crazy. I would’ve said yes a long time ago.”

I look down to the table and shake my head. “Not her. She’s hung up on what
she
wants. Nothing else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think she’ll change her mind?”

I glance at Cara, uncertain how to answer that because I truly don’t know how to. “Honestly, no. And after our fight, I don’t know if she’ll even want to stay with me.”

“Why do you think that?”

I hesitate before resentfully divulging, “Because I know I’m not enough for her.”

Her short, blonde hair bounces slightly when she says, “Why would you think that, Finn? I think you’d be more than enough. I wouldn’t want anything else. Just you.” She leans against me, her hand brushing against my leg underneath the table. I would have thought she did it accidentally, except for the fact she does it again and keeps her hand there, lingering on my leg. Her fingernails scratch against my jeans and trail up my thigh.

I blink, trying to grasp what’s going on. Suddenly, my buzzed brain raises red flags and I pull my leg away. What is she doing? I just was talking about Becks two minutes ago. Although, at first, the action was shocking, it was nice to be touched, for someone to want to reach out to comfort me, and not telling me to put a condom on before I’m allowed to reciprocate.

Cara takes the hint and doesn’t put her hand on me again. “If she doesn’t make you happy, there are other women out there that will.” I love Becks. I don’t want any other woman.

Feeling really uncomfortable, I say, “I’m going to go.” I slide away from her as she stares at me. Standing, I stutter, “I-I’ll let you know more about the softball team tomorrow.”

She vacuously nods and I expeditiously retreat to my room.

Wednesday morning, before I have to leave for the day, I text Ricky to call me later. He’d better agree to coach with me. Cop or not, if he balks, I’ll be kicking Officer Tesco’s sorry ass.

Then, sitting at the desk in my room, I type out an email to Brandon Rhodes, the lead partner at Becks’ law firm, letting him know that I want to get together with everyone Saturday afternoon. Becks might not like it, but I need to see her. I promised I’d stay away and I will. I’ll try to. She can’t hate me for wanting to say hello. Could she? She doesn’t want me to bother her, so I won’t. I’ll let her approach me, praying she does and she’ll want us to go to her apartment. I’ll do anything she wants me to.

When I’m not at the station talking to the management and staff, I spend the rest of the day alone, editing this week’s dare and then sorting through emails for the next one. I want to try to stay local so I can manage the team and keep an eye on Becks, be close to her in case she makes a decision that could dictate how my life will veer off.

While waiting for Becks to call Wednesday night, there’s a knock on my door. I set my laptop down on the bed and get up. Is it Becks? That would be the best surprise.

“Hey, there.” Cara smiles as I swing the door open. She not so subtly peers past me. “Are you busy?” What does she want this late?

Bracing my arm on the edge of the door, I cautiously regard her. She seems shifty for some reason. “I’m wrapping things up.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs with me? Milo and Reed don’t want to, and I don’t want to go alone.”

My mouth twists as I think of a way to get out of this. “I’m expecting a phone call.”

She laughs. “We won’t be gone long and if you get your call, you can leave. No biggie.”

I check my watch that Becks gave me for our second anniversary and sigh. 10:06. Shit. She should’ve called by now. I glance back up to an eager Cara. “Okay.”

I step away from the door, swinging it open further, and she follows me in while I put my shoes on, and then gather my wallet and phone.

We go down to the lounge in silence, making the elevator ride awkward, but Cara had said she didn’t want to go down there alone. She never said anything about needing sparkling conversation. Any other time, sure. I’m stellar at small talk. However, for the time being, I’d sooner sell my car than chitchat with Cara.

We find a booth and right off, a bored-looking waitress appears, not giving me any indication she recognizes me, for which I’m grateful. I order a double Jack on the rocks and Cara orders some fruity-sounding mixed drink.

“Rough day?” Cara asks, taking the seat across from me, thankfully.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it down on the table. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to your girlfriend?” And it begins.

Clenching my hands into fists on my leg, I stare at the paneled wall. “No.”

“Why don’t you call her?”

I drift my eyes restively over to the people sitting at the bar, wishing I were sitting there alone, pounding back whiskey until someone would have to carry me out. “She’d rather I not.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. If she treats you like this, then maybe she’s not the one for you.”

That statement forces me to resolutely look right into Cara’s blue eyes. “She is.” But am I the one for her?

Our drinks arrive and I down most of my Jack in one long gulp, causing my head to promptly buzz.

“I know you miss her.” What does
Cara
know about me? I take another long sip to swallow the huge lump in my throat and to avoid telling her how much I miss Becks, since I can’t seem to keep my fucking mouth shut. Cara and I are friends at work, but I don’t usually tell her anything personal, aside from last week in the kitchen.

She clasps her hands together on the table. “Is there anything I can do?” Other than beg Becks to hold on to me?

“No,” I firmly reply, averting my eyes from her interfering gaze.

“You’re a very different person away from work.”

I shrug and swirl the ice around in my glass. “Yeah. So?”

“You seem very outgoing and charming there. So charismatic. But away from work, you keep people at arm’s length. Why?”

“I’m normally a happy guy, but as I told you before, I’m also a private person.” There I go again opening my damned mouth. I down the rest of my Jack and agitatedly slide the glass to the middle of the table.

“Last week, I asked if you are going to marry her, but you never answered me.” Shit.

I watch our waitress flit around the floor and already want a refill. “We’re happy with the way things are,” I lie.

“I don’t think so if she doesn’t want you to live together and might even want to break up with you.”

I edgily glare at her over my glass before I take a sip. “Thanks for the damn reminder.”

She can’t take a hint, continuing to probe, “What’s the reason why she won’t move in with you?”

I set down my drink and stare absently at the glass. “It’s complicated.”

Feeling her eyes on me, I look up and she’s fixedly studying me “She wants to marry you, but you don’t want to.”

I scowl and irritably demand, “How in the hell do you know that?”