Chapter Four
Present Day
Madden hadn’t slept the last two nights, putting him in a fine mood to confront the woman who’d been his infatuation since
high school, followed by a first meeting with his new major-league baseball coaches. But in all fairness, what could go wrong
that hadn’t already gone wrong?
Eve stood in front of him in shorts that would drive a man of the cloth to a life of sin, hip cocked, waist-length blond hair
unbrushed and every inch of her gorgeous, making no move to put on a robe and end his suffering. Instead, she stood there
with an eyebrow raised, obviously not accustomed to him being so high-handed, but by god, his patience with Eve was running
out.
It had been just over four years since he’d allowed his feelings for Eve to transform from friend and protector to something
more. Much more. An additional heartbeat, one might say. Since that graduation party her senior year, where he’d made his
intentions clear to no avail, he’d continued to return to Cumberland every summer and Christmastime, praying this would be
the time Eve finally gave him a chance.
She never did.
Was he delusional to keep trying? From the outside looking in, perhaps he was. Then again, it was impossible to describe what happened between Eve and Madden when they were in the same room. To put it plainly, the ground shook.
And goddammit, she felt it too.
He wasn’t so delusional that he couldn’t look at the woman he’d studied relentlessly and not see the yearning. It existed.
And it only got stronger. So he returned and he returned to Cumberland, waiting for her to be ready. One such attempt had
taken place at Eve’s Gilded Garden two weeks ago. Madden had gone to look her in the eye and gather the proof of her feelings.
The proof that allowed him to keep going. He’d expected to find her in the office or managing the establishment from behind
the bar; he’d found her onstage, instead.
Preparing to take off her clothes.
To say he’d had an overreaction would be an understatement.
At least he’d thought so. Until she revealed her reason for performing—a way to drum up some business by inciting the gossip
that had plagued her since birth.
Madden stood by that overreaction now.
“You’ve been what? The Yankees?” Even in the midst of his frustration, he couldn’t keep from savoring the way her amber eyes lit up like the sun itself,
her hands flying to her mouth to catch a gasp. “You’re going to be catching for the actual New York Yankees?”
He inclined his head.
If his own excitement remained suspiciously absent, Eve’s was more than sufficient to replace it. Not that he wasn’t grateful
for the opportunity to play professionally. So many of his teammates throughout the years would never get the chance. This
contract was the reason he stood in front of Eve now with something to offer. His love for the game, however, had always been
mired in . . . discomfort.
When Madden arrived from Ireland at age sixteen, baseball was totally new to him. He’d learned the game—and specifically the art of catching—to fit in. To appease his pushy as hell friend, Elton. To belong in a way he hadn’t back home.
But oftentimes, baseball tended to make him feel fraudulent. Could the sport be any less Irish? He’d left his family behind and now his heritage, as well. It was so easy to hide behind a catcher’s mask and a chest
protector, he almost resented the ease with which he’d slipped out of his old life and into a new one. As if the past never
happened.
It had, though. The burden on his shoulders was the proof.
Still, when Eve now walked straight into his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, her smoked peach scent clobbering
his senses, every grueling game day, practice in the rain, and moment spent second-guessing himself was worth the soft feel
of her, the watery laugh against his shoulder.
“That’s amazing. Oh my god, that’s so amazing.”
“What’s amazing?”
Eve released him abruptly, and Madden had to clench his fists to prevent himself from drawing her back. “Madden is going to
play for the Yankees,” Eve breathed.
Twin expressions of disgust looked back at him.
“Ew,” said Landon, simply.
“Fuck the Yankees,” Lark spat.
“Lark!” Eve half gasped, half laughed. “We don’t use that word!”
Landon broke into a giggling fit. “Where is our toast?”
“Yeah.” Lark looked around at everyone’s faces, obviously encouraged by the stir she’d caused. “Where is our fucking toast?”
Eve had to turn around, her sides shaking as she laughed into her crooked elbow. “Lark, one more time and there’s no dessert
for a week.”
“What the—”
“Lark.”
Madden turned, as well, trading a glance of shocked amusement with Eve on his way into the kitchen, where he flipped open
the breadbox and removed the plastic sleeve of sourdough, disposing of the blackened first attempt at toast from the toaster
with a quick sign of the cross that made Eve’s eyes sparkle. Before she got ahold of herself, at least, and sobered.
“The bus is going to be here in five minutes.” She clapped her hands. “Clothes. Shoes. Now. We’ll eat the toast on the way
to the bus stop.”
With the kids finally grasping the time crunch, Eve meandered into the kitchen beside him, bending over to take the butter
out of the fridge. Those long, smooth backs of her thighs forced Madden to bite the inside of his cheek, his eyes drawn there
and held, powerless to do anything but appreciate what he saw. Christ almighty. He’d lived in two countries and played ball
in a dozen states and he’d never, ever laid eyes on a woman who came close to the bright, natural beauty of Eve. The name
suited her well, didn’t it? He’d spent years being tempted by her, though he’d only ever had the privilege of giving in to
that temptation in his mind.
She caught him staring and averted her eyes, quickly setting the butter down on the counter. In other words, not interested.
And that was fine. That was her choice to make. Madden was well used to being Eve’s friend and loving her from a distance.
Two nights ago, however, he’d found out something that gave him a dangerous reason to hope that Eve might be willing to explore a relationship deeper than friendship.
He was almost too terrified to find out if that hope had merit, but there was no time to sit about wondering.
New York expected him tonight, meaning he was operating with a limited amount of time to do one not-so-simple thing.
Find out once and for all if Eve had feelings for him.
Or if the hunger he glimpsed in her on occasion was all in his head.
“I can walk them to the bus stop, if you’re not ready to change out of your pajamas.”
The toast popped up. Tongue tucked into her cheek, Eve plucked out the slices and buttered them quickly, cutting them in half
and depositing them on separate napkins. “You’re kind of crabby for someone who is getting signed by the Yankees.”
Madden let that statement stand. “Do you need help packing lunches?”
She shook her head and turned to face him, propping a hip on the counter. “Already in their backpacks. Should I prepare myself
for a serious conversation?” Without taking her eyes off him, she handed off the toast to Lark and Landon as they trooped
to the door. “If you’re here to apologize for carrying me offstage over your shoulder at my very first burlesque performance,
I do not accept.”
“I still haven’t decided whether or not to apologize for that.”
“Really?” She laughed through a frown. “I highly recommend it.”
Madden was making the morning harder on himself, which wasn’t like him at all. Without pointing it out, he knew instinctively
she was noticing the same thing. He was the quiet guy who liked to mind his business and observe. Easygoing. But this gut
feeling that a lot was at stake had put him on edge, along with the lack of sleep. And maybe, yeah, maybe he had reached the
point where being around Eve and never knowing where they stood had grown overwhelming. Painful, even.
“I’ll walk the kids down and be back,” Eve said quietly, retreating from whatever she saw in his eyes. “Backpacks on, you two.”
In four long strides, Madden caught up with Eve at the door, looking her in the eye while he removed her hoodie from its peg
by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. “There’s a nip in the air.”
“Is that so?” she asked on a shallow breath, looking at his chin.
Then his mouth, her pupils expanding.
Confusing him. Always confusing him. She couldn’t put more distance between them without moving to bloody Antarctica, but
when they touched, when they got close, she was like leashed electricity in his arms. She had to feel that, right? Feel something?
“I’ll be right back,” she said haltingly, sidestepping out of his reach, looking back over her shoulder as she hurried after
the kids. Madden dragged both hands down his face on his way to the front windows that overlooked the street, planting his
hands on the frame and hunching over, trying to recover from the contact.
Knowing he wouldn’t.
He watched her progress to the bus stop—and he didn’t like what he saw when she got there. A group of mothers conversed in
a huddle and they made no move to include Eve when she arrived, even as their kids welcomed Lark and Landon enthusiastically.
Eve stood off to the side until the bus arrived, her expression blithe. Uncaring. She had to notice the furtive glances and
eye rolls, though, didn’t she?