Hitting to Win (Over the Fence #2) (12 page)

"Are you...okay?" Her usually honey-smooth voice is hesitant, and I see her narrow hips slanted toward the door, as if she might bolt back inside at any minute.

I study the ground again, continuing to drag in breaths. "I haven't...told you everything about me or my life or what's going on. But, my father's in there. He was sat in my section, or asked to be sat there, I don't know. I haven't spoken to him in months, I moved out. I can explain more later, but he's testing me right now. And I...I just need to get a hold on myself before I go back in there."

I feel her move beside me, and then feel her warm, small fingers wrap around my bicep, the thin white button down doing nothing to block the shot of lust that just her fingers alone sent rolling down my body. I feel instantly soothed, and turned on.

"I can take the table if you need me to. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

Chloe's eyes are soft when I raise my head to look into them, studying the flecks of indigo within the expanse of violet.

"No, I have to do this. He'll see me as a coward if I back out and let you take it."

She nods her head, her hand still resting on my upper-arm.

"But, Chloe? Tonight, after shift, I want to talk. I can't take any more of this flirting around each other. Or the connection we have. I want to tell you what I've been going through. And then I want to settle this between us."

She purses her lips, but nods again.

And I can't help myself when I turn to her, wrapping my arms around her small frame and pulling her in so that I can smell the strawberry fragrance of her hair. Her arms come around my waist, running her fingers delicately up and down my back. The move gives me goosebumps, and its been so long that I've actually touched her that my whole body flushes with warmth.

But its more than just a sexual response to her. Its deeper. As I nuzzle my nose into her neck and hair, my heart beats double-time, threatening to break free of my rib cage. My whole body lights up when I'm with her, and her understanding and acceptance are exactly what I need to continue on this right path I've chosen.

She's my energy-source. Its like before, I was some washed up nobody. But with Chloe, I become a superhero, able to fight anything with just the power I receive from her touch.

I pull back, knowing I need to get back to my father's table. "Thank you." I nod, palming her cheek. "And tonight, let me take you home. Let me explain."

I pull her back inside wordlessly, and leave her in the kitchen as I go in search of some high-end Johnny Walker.

The rest of their meal goes as I assumed it would. My father makes ridiculous requests about the way in which they want their food prepared, and I outline it all with the chef. My father sends it back anyway, without even looking at it, and then does it again when the corrected version comes out. He insists on cappuccino’s, which he says are too dry, and the whole experience is just so draining that my fists are screaming at me to let them go to work by the end of the dinner.

"Here is your bill, gentlemen. I hope you all had an enjoyable experience and that you'll come back sometime soon." I smile rigidly, leaving the check on the table. Before I can turn around, Charles is leafing through the green bills in his wallet.

"Here you go, $578. That should cover it." He looks over the opened check book and nods, then begins to stand.

$578. That was what the bill was for, exactly. And he's rising from the table, shrugging his jacket on. Meaning he's leaving a tip of zero dollars for me.

I can't stop myself this time. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

The ire in my tone is unmistakable, and I'm so overcome with rage that I'm probably turning purple.

He's been waiting for this. This exact moment. His lecherous smile breaks out onto his pudgy face.

"Is there a problem here, boy? I won't stand for the help cursing at me!" His tone is too high, his voice too loud. He's putting on a show. Other diners turn around to watch, and I see Tony Sr. come barreling towards us.

Fuck. He's about to get what he wants. He's about to get me fired.

"Is there a problem here, Mr. Farriston?" He's addressing my father, who is probably one of his wealthiest and most-frequent diners.

"Your waiter here is accosting my guests and I!" Charles stamps his foot, show-boating for everyone.

Tony turns to me, a question in his dark brown eyes. "Is this true, Miles?"

"He's stiffing me on a $500 bill." I say this low and surly, so that no other diner can hear me. I'm not a money-grubber, but I work hard for what I make here. And having to run around for three hours while being harassed by my father? Yeah, I want payment for that.

Tony turns back to my father. "Sir, is there some reason that our staff was unsatisfactory?"

Charles grins and studies the lapel on his expensive pea coat. "Nothing in particular. I just found him rude, lazy and overall sub-par. You should have better standards when hiring, Tony."

Tony's eyes go black, and I can tell my father has pissed him off. Not only has he not given him the same respect by addressing him formally, but he's now insulted his business practices.

"Excuse me, Mr. Farriston, but I can assure you that Miles here is one of our best waiters, and he has only just come on with us. He is bright and attentive, and I can go so far as saying that he has an excellent future ahead of him. That being said, I must ask that you do not return here until a time when you can appreciate my staff and I for the fine establishment we run."

You can hear a pin drop. I swear my father's jaw is on the floor, and I think mine might be right there with his.

"What did you just say to me? You ignorant Ginny. Do you know who I am? I run this town. You can't outlaw me!" My father tries to pull all of his five-foot-nine frame up high and puff his chest out, but he's no match for Tony's  six-foot-four height.

"Get out of my restaurant. Now. And never come back." Tony all but growls at him. People are watching the exchange, I think someone is even videoing it over in the corner.

"You'll regret this. Fuck this piece-of-shit restaurant anyway!" Charles storms down the aisles and out of the restaurant, his little business associates toddling in his wake.

I turn to Tony, unable to wipe the shock off my face. "You didn't have to do that..."

"I think I did, son. Your father is an ungrateful, hurtful person. No one should ever be subjected to that, especially by their own father. And you handled it with grace and dignity. You should be proud."

"Well...thank you, sir."

"No, thank you. I've been trying to get his ass out of my restaurant for years. You did me a favor. Say, do you have plans tomorrow for Christmas Eve? We always have a big family dinner at the house. Why don't you come?"

In this moment, I don't realize just how much of a saving grace Tony will be on my life. But by treating me like a part of his family, inviting me in so warmly and openly, he will only set my life further on the right path. And I would never pass up a chance to spend time with Chloe. Plus, I had been trying to figure out a way not to intrude on Owen's Christmas plans.

"If you'll have me, I'd love to be there. With bells on. And I can even bring the mistletoe."

Tony scowls at me. "You're allowed to come. But in no way have I given you permission to do whatever you're thinking about doing with my daughter."

I smile sheepishly and tip toed towards the kitchen.

B
aked cod
. Clams casino. Deep fried calamari. Linguine with anchovy, clam, and lobster. Marinated eel. Shrimp cocktail. Stuffed-baked lobsters. Whiting.

Our Feast of the Seven Fishes was typically a to-do, but mama had gone all out this year.

The 36-person dining room table was covered in dishes small and large, all of them wafting fantastic smells throughout the house so that you were drooling in anticipation.

And when the house didn't smell like the heavenly meal my mama, nonna and zias had prepared, it smelled like fresh cinnamon, Christmas trees and warm pumpkin pie.

And it wasn't just the smells that made this night feel so special. It was the noise, the warmth of our big Italian family crowded into the large rooms of our house. All smiling and laughing and telling the same stories that they did every year.

This year though, felt different. In a good way. Because Miles was coming to dinner.

When I'd watched the altercation go down last night in the restaurant, I didn't think I'd ever seen my father so angry. Or Miles look so small. Both frightened me to the point that I had to rush to the employee bathroom and break into a fit of sobs before anyone could see me.

How could any father speak to their child like that? It had all clicked for me then, why Miles had seemed so angry at the world all semester. He hadn't told me specifics, but I knew he was trying to break free of that awful man's clutches, and I had faith he would.

We would do it together.

Because after yesterday, I'd abandoned my promise. Miles was a good man, a great man. He was who I'd originally thought he was, he'd just gotten lost in the dark fog, trapped by the monsters in his life that haunted him. But he was fighting those now, owning up to the ways he'd done wrong. And if he could face his fears, so could I.

Like being afraid to walk out onto that open ledge again to be with him. I'd done it for so long with no returned feelings, and I was afraid I'd open myself up only to be disappointed once more.

But he was right, we'd been dancing around these feelings for far too long, not acting on them properly. Both hurting each other. I was willing to wipe the slate clean.

We'd never gotten the chance to have our talk last night, my father had told Miles to go home straight after the fight, while I had to stay and cleanup. Hopefully tonight we'd get some alone time.

I walk into the kitchen to mama and the zias surrounding the island, chattering away, several wine bottles in the middle of their powwow.

"There's our ballerina Bella!" Zia Sophia's cheeks are pinker than usual, her beautiful auburn curls swimming around her petite face. "Do a twirl for us! I am going to tell everyone you're my niece when you're famous."

She kisses my cheek as I sidle up to her and break into their circle of gossip.

"Did you know that Maria from the hair salon is having an affair with her nephew. Or at least that's what I heard!" Zia Theresa takes a long swallow of her red wine.

My mama is one of five girls, and my papa one of eight brothers and sisters. The family is huge, with cousins and husbands and wives and children of various ages always running around.

"No, but she needs to focus on her haircuts if you ask me. I saw her turn this woman into a poodle last week!" Zia Sophia laughs. She was my favorite of the bunch, always stopping to ask me about my dancing.

Tony barrels through the door, a scowl on his face, and in walks Miles behind him. And my mouth starts to water for a totally different reason.

He's so tall he almost hits the top of the doorway to our high-ceiled kitchen. His blonde curls have been slicked back, but a couple errant locks protest, sticking out this way or that. His blue eye and green eye twinkle in tandem, and he hasn't shaved, leaving more than a dusting of blonde hair across his strong jaw. He's gone casual with his look, but still looks the picture of a high-class Christmas catalog with his khaki slacks and red v-neck sweater.

He smiles at me, and I'm instantly in tune with his every motion. I want to run to him, have him wrap me up in those big arms of his and carry me somewhere we can be alone.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Trabucco." He hands mama a small bouquet of Poinsettias from behind his back, and its then that I notice the entire room has gone silent. All of my aunts and cousins are staring at this hunky creature invading their gossip room.

"Oh thank you, Miles! But please, we've been over this, call me Isabella." She kisses him on the cheek.

"If you insist." He gives her one of his dazzling smiles, and starts to walk around the island. He stops when he gets to me, and bends down to whisper in my ear. "Merry Christmas, beautiful."

He places an identical bouquet in my hand, and I know my face is bright red I'm so smitten and embarrassed.

I hear mama clear her throat. "Miles, the men are in the living room watching basketball if you'd like to join them."

He looks up at her but runs his hand down my arm, leaving sizzling tingles in his wake. "Sure thing, Isabella."

He bows and is out the door. The minute he's gone, the females in my family break out in giggles, shrieks, and gossip.

"Who was that?!"

"Chloe, your boyfriend is some kind of God!"

"Does he have any older brothers?"

"Look at her face! She's so red!"

"You loveeeee him!"

Their taunting causes me to turn such a shade of red that I probably match the flowers he's given me.

"Enough, you nosey people. We like Miles very much, and what Chloe chooses to do is her business."

I give her a grateful look.

"Now, wrangle your men so we can start dinner!"

D
inner flashed
before my eyes in a flurry of excitement, chatter and my family stuffing their faces.

My uncles were star-struck with Miles, a top prospect for the MLB draft, which I heard from Minka he finally entered. They were asking him who he wanted to sign him, whether he knew Carl Axel, how he hit so well. Miles was happy to indulge them. Talk about anything baseball with him and his whole face lit up like a kid on, well, Christmas.

The men clean, it’s always been a rule, but when Miles gets up to start help clearing, mama scolds him. "Miles, honey, you work for us enough in the restaurant. Take a break tonight."

He looks hesitant, but one look at me, and he puts the plate of dishes he's holding down.

He leans over from where he's seated next to me, thanks again to mama, ever the matchmaker. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

I nod, dropping my napkin on the table. I peer at mama, who shakes her head in approval. "Let's go up to my balcony," I say as we make our way through the foyer.

"Your balcony?"

"Every princess needs a balcony, doesn't she?" I tease, and he chuckles.

"Touche."

I grab my winter coat and gloves, slipping a scarf around my neck as we go. Miles mimics me and grabs his outside gear.

We ascend the spiral staircase to the second floor of my family home, and he's laughing at pictures of me as a kid. My mother has hundreds of pictures tacked up on this staircase wall, and plenty of embarrassing ones of me grace the stucco.

Walking into my room, I make a display wave with my hands. "Here we are..."

I stare at the pale pink walls, the pictures of famous ballerinas hung in frames around the room. My lamp made out of pointe shoes. It was every little dancer's dream room. But with Miles standing in here, it just feels childish.

"Oh this is so you!" He exclaims, racing around the room examining things. "And I thought I had a lot of trophies."

Miles whistles, walking over to the glass cabinet that holds all of my trophies, certificates and medals. It’s actually atrocious now that I think about, all of that bragging hung right there for everyone to see. I didn't even dance for those. I dance because I love it.

"Its obnoxious, I've been meaning to take them out and pack them away."

"I know what you mean. Its like...if you love something, you shouldn't have to display these for people to know you're good at it."

It was freaky how well he could read my mind sometimes. "Want to go sit?"

He follows as I open the french doors to my private balcony. When papa had built the house, he'd had this specially put on for me. Said his Juliette would need a balcony, that someday her Romeo would come for her. Ironic how very Shakespearean my reality was turning out to be. I slipped my knitted pink mittens on, shivering as I buttoned up the white pea coat against the cold December air. The balcony was draped in twinkling lights and holly wreathes, just like the rest of the house.

I loved it out here all of the time, but especially this time of year. The twinkling lights made everything look magical, like I was tucked away in some magical nook all by myself. I could see everything from the top of the hill where our house sat; the dense forest, the shimmering lights of the shops downtown, the cars making their way into town.

We sit on the outdoor couches mama had picked out for this space, not close enough to touch, but close enough that I feel the heat coming off of his giant form. It crackles in the cold air between us, and even though I know we are only supposed to be talking, that my family is less than 100 feet away, I can't help it when my nipples harden, when I get lustful stirrings down below, my red sweater dress and stockings feeling prickly on my over-heated thighs.

"So, I know I have a lot of stuff to tell you. I'm not really a sharer, or I never have been before..." Miles trails off, looking lost and found at the same time.

"Just start at the beginning." I put my horniness aside and focus all of my attention on this beautiful man in front of me.

"Yeah. So...I told you about my brother. Jason. How he died, and how he left me alone. Jason was my rock, he was my brother, but also my parent. He made sure I was fed, that I got to school on time. That I had a bath every night, he read me stories. Our parents, they were never around. I honestly don't even know why they had kids, because they didn't seem to want anything to do with them. Still don't. Except to use them as heirs, robots who would dutifully fulfill anything thrust upon them."

He clenches his fist at this, the anger evident in his expression. I reach out my mittened hand and lace it through his own glove. Miles looks down, focusing on our fabric-covered hands now intertwined.

"Jay, he was supposed to be the rightful heir of Farriston Aviation. My family's company, although growing up in this town, you have got to know what my father does. He was going to be given the keys to the kingdom, become CEO. And he wanted it. But when he died...my father expected me to just mold into that role. As if I didn't have my own dreams, my own aspirations. I've never had the head for business, and I never wanted to. I want to play baseball until it’s not physically possible for me to play baseball anymore."

I know exactly what he means, because all I've ever wanted to do is dance. I send up a silent prayer to God that I had the kind of parents who supported my dreams whole-heartedly.

"He's been manipulating me for years. Giving me just enough of taste of baseball to assuage my thirst, while at the same time exchanging those good favors for factory tours, media days for the company, making me declare as a business major. Every reward had some kind of punishment. And then, at the beginning of last summer, I'd let slip that I was planning on entering the draft. He went ballistic. Almost didn't let me go back to school, but what good would a CEO with a college degree be?" Miles stops, laughing without a trace of happiness in his tone. "He's been hounding me all semester, threatening unspeakable things to get me to come down and do a tour of the newest facility, all while some journalist waxes poetic on my takeover. Fucking hell if you ask me. I couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't interested in my happiness, in my life or how I felt. I am a pawn to him, a chess piece in his stupid goddamn company. And I'm tired of it. Tired of having no one in my life that cares about me. That's why I was so nasty to you in the summer. I owe you the biggest apology of all."

His two-toned eyes lock on mine now, his expression stormy and apologetic. I just squeeze his fingers, urging him to go on. I know he needs to get this all off his chest if there is any way of moving forward.

"I've lived almost my entire life without anyone ever caring about me. My parents never said I love you, no one ever made sure to be around on holidays. When I started dating Olivia, I thought she was genuinely into me, that she really, truly understood everything I'd gone through. I thought, 'Finally, someone to love me.' And she did tell me she loved me, but jesus, what a lie that was. She just wanted the money, or to be a WAG, or whatever the hell gold diggers like that want. When I found out she was cheating on me, fuck...it was like my whole world shattered. I really was fucking alone. No one cared about me. And because of that, I didn't care about other people. I didn't care who I hurt. And the number one victim of my shit-slinging campaign? You. You were always there, trying to talk to me, or help me or be near me. I think deep down I knew that you would help me, that I'd get in too deep with you. And that moment in my life, I wanted to surround myself in my dark cloud, drown in self-pity."

Miles scoots closer to me on the bench, taking a gloved hand and wrapping it around the back of my neck. An intimate embrace, but nothing hints at him taking this any further.

“That night that, after our freestyle, I wanted to hurt someone. And again, you were right there in the line of fire. I am so sorry for the things I said to you. Before that too. Chloe, you are so perfect, its hard for me to take my eyes off you sometimes. I’m jealous of everything you have; the family, the parents who support your dream, even your sunny optimism. But instead of wanting to resent you for that, I want you to make me that way too. Now I do. I couldn’t admit it before, was too fucking scared of losing yet another person I thought might care about me.”

"I know how much of an asshole I've been, how much I've pushed you away. But I'm different now. I moved out of parent's house, for all intents and purposes. I'm staying with Owen anytime I need to come back to Mitchum. Coach got me scholarship so that I don't need to rely on my parents for tuition, and I've been busting my ass at the restaurant for rent money for next semester. That's why I needed the job so bad."