For Everly Page 7

  That last question made the difference in his decision about whether or not he should try to salvage their relationship. He’d been talking to his mother during that particular phone call and Abigail had overheard the end of the conversation. She’d reported it to Rebecca, who jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  The last thing he needed to deal with was a woman who didn’t trust him. Yes, there were some ballplayers who took advantage of the females throwing themselves at them while on road trips, but Cole wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t given Rebecca any reason to doubt him and he hadn’t appreciated her suspicion. She wanted to meet his family and be welcomed into his home—a space he shared only reluctantly—but she didn’t trust him? There was no way that was going to fly.

  Apparently, she had done some thinking during the course of the season. By the time September rolled around and the team was well-positioned for a playoff berth, she started calling and e-mailing him.

  He took the first few calls. They had a history, after all. He listened to her apologies and assured her there was no harm done. But she didn’t let up. She left multiple voicemails and sent even more e-mails, even after he asked her to let things be.

  And here he was, staring at three more messages.

  Downing the rest of his coffee, he opened the first one. Then the second. Then the third. The message remained consistent. She regretted breaking things off. She realized she had overreacted. If he wanted to take things slow, that was okay with her.

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he deleted all of the messages without responding. He’d been clear with her that he didn’t think a relationship would work between them. There was no sense in encouraging her.

  Since he didn’t have any other e-mails worth responding to, he moved on to his social networking sites. The team had PR people who handled the players’ Facebook fan pages, but he had one of his own that only his family and real friends knew about, so he checked it and caught up on the events he’d missed. He also had a Twitter account that he’d been neglecting lately.

  “I’m heading out, Mr. Cole,” Margaret said.

  He looked up and glanced at the clock. Damn, it was already ten-thirty.

  “Okay, Ms. Margaret. Thanks.”

  “Happy to help, as always. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He set his iPad to the side and turned the television off. Rising from his sofa, he noticed that Margaret had replaced his coffee at some point. He’d finished more than half of the second cup without even realizing she’d refilled it. He carried the mug into the kitchen and set it in the sink. He was debating what to eat for a quick breakfast when the phone rang.

  Thinking it was Everly and she was lost, he answered it without checking the User ID.

  “Hey, hey,” crooned a familiar voice. “If it isn’t the long lost Cole Parker!”

  Leaning against the counter as his friend and teammate’s voice filled the receiver, he grinned and responded, “Hey, Marshall. What’s up, man?”

  “Not much, man, not much. Haven’t seen you in a while. Makes a guy wonder what’s up.”

  “Well, you know me. The dark, mysterious type.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Marshall said. “You’ve got Abigail convinced you’re holed up in your house experimenting with copious amounts of sex and drugs. Since I live vicariously through you now, you’re going to confirm that rumor, right?”

  “I’ll neither confirm nor deny,” Cole said, keeping his tone light even though he knew where this was going. “Are you by any chance doing reconnaissance for your wife, my man?”

  There was a pause that answered his question. Then Marshall said in a low voice, “Look, don’t dog me, man. Rebecca’s been giving Abigail grief because you haven’t been in touch with her, so I’m obligated to listen to all of the back and forth. I don’t even know how I got roped into this.”

  Cole sighed. “I hear you. What are you obligated to do?”

  “They want to know if you’re planning on attending the New Year’s charity ball, and if so, who you’re planning to bring as your date.”

  “Seriously, man? You’re asking me about a frickin’ dance?”

  “Look, sex may have been involved when this particular agreement was made, okay?” Marshall said. “I’m just fulfilling my obligations. When you’re married, you’ll understand.”

  Cole rolled his eyes and walked to the pantry to hunt for food. He’d been on a few dates with Abigail before she hooked up with Marshall, so he knew how stubborn she could be.

  “Look, my friend…you and I both know that I’m contractually obligated to attend that event. As to who I’m bringing, I’m not thinking of anyone at the moment.”

  “Seriously? That’s the line you have for me to bring back to the women?”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  “Man, you got no love fo’ a brotha.”

  “Hey, I’ve got mad love for you, Marsh,” Cole said, unwrapping a granola bar. “What I don’t love is silly games when it comes to relationships. We left high school a while ago.”

  Marshall sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you on the high school shit. My brother-in-law just graduated college and he’s visiting over the holidays. Talk about acting like high school fresh. I swear to God, I’m going to bury him in the backyard if he doesn’t let up.”

  “He still begging you to get him a tryout for the team?”

  “You know it. I can’t wait ‘til he goes back to Baltimore.” He sighed. “Seriously, though, where you been, man? Haven’t seen you ‘round the clubs lately.”

  Cole winced, not wanting to lie. Something vague, he decided. “Haven’t been feeling a hundred percent. Just fighting it off, you know?”

  “Ah. All right, man. All right. It’s that time of year. Get out when you can, right?”

  “You know it.”

  They disconnected. Cole gazed at the handset for a minute before setting it back in its base. Although he hadn’t lied to his friend, he still felt bad keeping things from him. It just served as another motivator to get healthy as quickly as he could. Then his life could finally get back to normal.

  Chapter 11

  It was easier to find Cole’s house than the restaurant, Everly was pleased to discover. Although the house was hidden from the main road by cleverly placed trees and shrubbery, the drive leading to it was clearly marked. She eased Champ up alongside an elaborate-looking panel housed in a brick pillar outside the double gates. Tall wrought-iron fencing ran the length of the front yard, which looked as large as the entire block she lived on.

  She took a deep breath and patted the steering wheel. “It’s okay, Champ. We might not fit in around here, but it’s only a few weeks. Right?”

  Failing to convince herself, she shook her head and rolled her window down. Cool air rushed in to battle against the heat pouring from Champ’s vents. She pressed the call button like Cole had described the day before.

  As she waited for a response, she rubbed her gloved hands together and studied the house beyond the gate. She figured it sat on at least a couple acres. It was a sprawling, modern, ranch-style home, bent in an L-shape with a beautiful courtyard leading to the front door. She fell a little in love with it right then.

  The panel clicked and Cole’s voice emitted from the speaker. “Welcome to Chez Parker,” he said in a cheesy accent. “Please come on in.”

  She lifted one corner of her mouth and looked at the camera she saw beside the call button. “Was that supposed to be French?” she asked, making him laugh.

  As the gates swung open, she waved at the camera and drove through, using one hand to steer and the other to roll up her window. She looked for a logical place to park. It seemed the garage was behind the house, but the circular drive led to the front door. Since Cole opened the door and stood watching her, she drove around the drive and stopped in front of the entrance. She left her car running and unbuckled her seatbelt, reaching across and manually rolling down the passenger window.

  “Is it okay
to park here?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a beat before replying, “Sure.”

  “Cool.”

  She rolled the window back up, using her position as an excuse to take in the sight of him in a simple brown T-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t even wearing socks, she realized. Seeing him in such a casual state made it very hard to stay focused on being professional.

  Despite the temperature, he remained where he was until she cut the ignition, got out of her car, and ran up to the door. “Aren’t you freezing?” she asked. “It’s only forty degrees out here.”

  He started to speak, but then stopped and just stared at her.

  Frowning, she fiddled with the lapel of her coat. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re wearing glasses.”

  “Oh.” She instinctively reached up and adjusted the rectangular frames so they sat higher on her nose. She’d forgotten that she was wearing them. “Yeah. I usually wear contacts, but I like to give my eyes a rest every now and then.”

  “So…your eyes, they’re naturally…”

  He trailed off and continued to hold her gaze. She shifted self-consciously, making a note to wear contacts around him from now on. He was acting so strange.

  “Yeah, I’m blind as a bat. Trust me, the people of Atlanta are grateful that I’m wearing this unappealing eyewear right now.” After another pause, she added, “It won’t impact my ability to work with you.”

  Finally he shook his head as if coming out of a trance and stepped back so she could walk in. She tried not to fidget since she could still feel his gaze on her.

  “Sorry. I like the glasses,” he said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. He gestured around the foyer. “Once again, welcome to my humble abode.”

  She pulled her ivory knit hat off and used her fingers to comb her hair into place. Looking around, she smiled. “This is some place. It’s even more beautiful on the inside than on the outside, and that’s saying something.”

  “Thanks. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.”

  Remembering her own reaction outside the gate, she nodded in understanding. “I can see why. All of this natural light makes it feel so homey and inviting.”

  When he didn’t say anything, she looked at him again. He was just standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching her. Was she missing something? Did she have something on her face? Just in case, she took her gloves off and casually rubbed a hand along her cheeks and mouth. She longed for a mirror.

  “So, um, do you have somewhere I can hang my coat?” she asked. “Or should I leave it on?”

  He blinked, then gave her a chagrined smile. “I’m sorry. Got a lot on my mind. Let me show you around, starting with the coat closet.”

  She unbuttoned her navy blue pea coat and unwound the scarf that coordinated with her hat and gloves as they walked around a corner. Cole opened a panel in the cream-colored wall that she never would have guessed hid a closet. Her face lit up as he reached for her coat.

  “Wow! Does this have a secret passageway into an ancient library?” she asked, crouching to sneak a look under his arm as he grabbed a hanger.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll never tell.”

  Grinning, she started to rise from her crouch. Her eyes shifted from the closet to Cole’s waist when he reached to hang her coat. His T-shirt rode up enough to give her a glimpse of his well-defined abs.

  Heat rushed through her. She stood so fast she almost stumbled. Fortunately, she managed to collect herself before he turned around.

  “Over here is the family room,” he said, closing the closet door and leading her further into the house.

  She half-expected to see a form of frat party/man cave décor with well-worn recliners, flashes of neon, and posters on the walls, so she was pleasantly surprised when she took in the two beige and cream sofas and coordinating easy chairs. The room was a contemporary blend of soft creams, browns, and blues that made the rich wood floors really pop. She was no expert, but she knew enough to identify several pieces of fine art on the walls.

  Then her eyes moved to the media center.

  “How big is this thing?” she asked, moving closer to the enormous flat panel television dominating the length of one wall.

  “She’s seventy glorious inches,” Cole said, moving with her and running his hand along one of the television’s gleaming black edges.

  “Uh-huh.” She glanced in the glass-front cabinets lining either side of the custom-built media center. “And how many game systems do you have?”

  “One of each,” he said. “And so many games I have an extra room to store them.”

  She laughed. Then she realized he was serious.

  “That many?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Do you own one of every game ever made or something?”

  “Pretty much.” He grinned. “Well, except for an original gold version of Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out, but I’m sure I’ll find one eventually.”

  “I see.”

  He wagged a finger in the air. “See now? That was a judging ‘I see.’ Are you telling me that you don’t have a ridiculously high pile of books somewhere in your house?”

  She opened her mouth in surprise. He’d totally pegged her.

  Turning on her heel, she said, “Moving on…”

  He laughed and walked ahead of her to lead the way. “If it makes you feel any better, I get most of these games and systems for free. Endorsements and such. I donate a bunch of them.”

  For some reason, that did make her feel better. And slightly guilty about her humungous book collection, none of which she received for free. She forgot all about her guilt when they rounded another corner and stepped into the heart of the house.

  “This kitchen is amazing, Cole!”

  She looked around with an awed expression at the state-of-the-art appliances, huge entertainment island, and floor-to-ceiling storage shelves complete with a rolling ladder for accessing the highest spots. The space was as large as half of her grandpa’s house, she thought.

  “Is the refrigerator hidden in one of these cabinets?” she asked, walking over to examine the cherry wood.

  “Yep. Right here.” He walked past her to the other side of the island and pulled the door open.

  She hurried over to see it. “This is so cool!” Her eyes fell on the fridge’s contents. “Is that sweet tea?”

  “Sure is. Want a glass?”

  “I’d love one, thanks.”

  He pulled out the glass pitcher and reached into a cabinet to pull out two glasses. She realized he reached up with his left hand. It reminded her that she was there as an employee, not a guest.

  “How’s your shoulder?” she asked.

  “Better,” he said as he filled the glasses. “Still sore, but your tips helped me sleep better.”

  “Good. We should find something to fashion that sling.”

  He put the pitcher back. “Sure. What do you need?”

  “Do you have any old pillowcases?”

  “I’m sure we can find something.”

  They drank their sweet tea, then continued the tour. She tried not to gawk as they walked through the house and Cole gave her a quick overview. It was just beautiful. She loved everything about it. Where she had expected it to be ostentatious and overdone, it was tasteful and welcoming. There was even a reading nook overlooking the back garden that made her want to swoon.

  It would have been better if she’d hated the place, she mused, her thoughtful gaze on the back of Cole’s head as they walked down a hallway to a closet. This one had a normal door. He opened it, did a quick search, and ended up with a long, beige pillowcase.

  “That’ll work,” she said, taking it from him and holding it up to be sure. She tried to ignore the luscious texture of the linen. “Why don’t you show me the gym? Then I’ll get you hooked up with this sling before I go.”

  “Right this way, mon ami,” he said.

  “Seriously, is that supposed to be French?”

 
He grinned and shoved at her shoulder. “I do great accents.”

  “All with a true southern twang.”

  “Harsh. You’re a harsh woman, Everly Wallace.”

  They made their way to another door. This one led to a set of stairs. She realized she’d been wrong about the house being one story. They descended into a daylight basement as large as the entire house, which was at least six thousand square feet. The room they entered was the man cave she’d pictured, but with a pool table, card table, two flat panel televisions, several arcade games, and a full bar. She gaped at the sports memorabilia as they walked through.

  “Is that one of Babe Ruth’s bats?” she asked.

  “Yep. Got a signed baseball, too.”

  “Wow.”

  The next room they reached was the gym. She knew immediately that they wouldn’t need anything else outside of the equipment he already had. This gym gave L.A. Fitness a run for its money. She even saw an indoor pool through a second glass door.

  “This is top-notch, Cole,” she said. “I can’t think of a thing you’re missing.” Her gaze fell on a silver orb in one corner and her eyebrow rose. “Is that a Pilates ball?”

  “Um, yeah,” he scratched his jaw. “I have a personal trainer who swears by it.”

  “Ah. Well, it’ll probably come in handy. Let’s run through a few exercises so that I can determine your range of motion. That way I’ll have the treatment plan in place by Wednesday.”

  She worked with him for ten minutes, gauging pain levels and areas in need of strengthening. When she was satisfied, she said, “Okay. Let’s get you in this sling.”

  Walking him through it, she folded the pillowcase and helped him determine the right angle for his arm to sit in it. Every time she touched his chest or abdomen, she felt that flash of heat she’d experienced earlier by the coat closet. When she got home, she was going to give herself a serious talking to about maintaining her professional distance. There was no way she could treat Cole Parker without drooling on him unless she did that.

  “Are you going to be able to handle binding your arm like this by yourself?” she asked when she was satisfied with the reinforced sling.