Page 64 of Through the Water

12

Killian

“Progress always involves risks. You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.”

-Frederick B. Wilcox

The food at True North was supposed to be top of the line, yet I hadn’t tasted a single bite of my grilled chicken sandwich as I read over the text message my father had sent just before dawn.

Until recently, Saturdays had always been designated parent days in his book. Now, it felt like he was calling me almost daily. I wondered if he had reminders set in his phone, or if the inclination to reach out to his wayward son just came naturally. Even my mama had been pleading with me to hear him out.

Dad-

Have you heard from the team? I think you need to put the pressure on Theo to handle this before the press forms their own opinions. Love you, but this can’t wait.

Love you, but…

There it was. The caveat—because, apparently, I wasn’t worthy of something without a catch. My dad loved me, but I could do better. On the verge of being offered a slew of contracts, but I blew out my knee. I finally met a nice girl, but there was a catch.

Maybe it was asking a lot, but just once, I wanted the universe to give me something without that damn conjunction attached to it.

Although, if experience had taught me anything, it was that there was always going to be an angle.

Moving up to the majors was like winning the lottery. Ex-girlfriends… long-lost relatives… there was always someone popping up out of the woodwork, looking to capitalize on my success.

I’d had women claim they were friends of my sister’s in an attempt to get close to me—failing to bother with even the most basic of Google searches. If they had, they would have discovered I was an only child.

Then there were the particularly vicious few who’d claimed to be pregnant with my ‘love child,’ only to balk when my lawyers insisted on a paternity test. Those cases had only solidified my decision to remain celibate for the remainder of my natural life.

There had been so many over the years. I’d learned to spot a con from a mile away. The women were all the same, blinded by their own expectations of who I was. When the girl-next-door persona failed to get my attention, they seemed to have no issue with browsing the supermarket tabloid covers for new ideas.

But Ari—I could honestly say she was the one I never saw coming. I hadn’t wanted to believe someone like her could ever have a motive.

News had spread throughout True North in a matter of hours. All anyone wanted to talk about was Ari’s ridiculous outfit. As much as it irritated me that people had nothing better to do, I had to remind myself it wasn’t my problem anymore.

It was over before it even really began, but my sex-starved brain hadn’t gotten the memo. I’d had dreams of Ari all night, none of which ended with a kiss on the jaw.

Oh no—I’d mentally exhausted all the ways in which a woman could be claimed. It was best just to get it all out of my system. No more waking up to damp sheets and the lingering image of us in the shower, Ari’s green eyes trained on mine as she lowered herself to the tiles before taking me in her mouth.

Why hadn’t I just asked her where she’d gotten her old-fashioned advice, or why she’d used it on me? While I was at it, why hadn’t I gone for the kiss?

I balled my hands into fists and counted to ten until my heart slowed its galloping into a more respectable trot. Only a masochist would look for ways to turn the fantasy into reality—which I clearly wasn’t.

Nope. I had my eyes on the prize.

Maybe after lunch, I’d take ol’ Joe’s advice and reach out to Theo, see where we stood on things.

I ignored the first dramatic sigh, hoping my unwanted visitor would take the hint and leave. My teeth came together at the second, and by the third, my patience was shot all to hell.

I jerked my head up with a gruff, “What?”

“Oh, Killian. I didn’t see you there,” Helen said, dabbing at her dry face with a tissue. “Might I have a word with you?”

I shrugged and gestured toward an empty chair across the table. She shuffled over before fixing me with a pointed stare, clearly expecting me to jump up and pull it back for her.

She had the wrong guy.

Bailey was the gentleman. I was—well, right now, I was the brooding asshole. A role I surprisingly found quite enjoyable.

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