Chapter 4
APRIL
That man is a curse.
In the last forty-eight hours, Spencer has brought nothing but bad luck to me.
I was silent on our way back to his house. In truth, my thoughts couldn’t muster any words, as I was lost in what just happened over the last hour. If I'm honest with myself, I know it’s because I feel I wasn’t good enough for my ex, which only infuriates me.
Following Spencer into his kitchen, we both carry groceries. He stalls when he sets the bags on the counter.
He tilts his head at different angles. “Your dog is lazy.”
My eyes follow his line of sight to see Pickles in the same spot that we left him in before we went into town.
“He isn’t lazy. He is just enjoying the finer things in life which is called relaxation. Don’t be a hater on his life balance,” I chide.
“As long as he doesn’t destroy anything in the house, then he can enjoy his life of Zen.”
I blow out a breath because I feel uneasy. I’m not quite sure what to do with this nervous energy.
“I’m sure you can handle this.” I indicate to the groceries. “I’m going to go swim in the lake.”
“It’s early October?” Spencer questions.
“Cold water is good for the skin.”
“Or you can just use the indoor swimming pool like a normal person.”
Something ticks inside of me. It’s his words, and Spencer has no idea.
Crossing my arms, I state the obvious. “Well, I’m not a normal person, am I? Remember, I’m the idiot who decided thirty minutes with you was something worth trying.”
Spencer tosses an avocado into the fruit bowl. “Is this the cue to establish ground rules for you living here?”
“No. Because I will absolutely not walk around as if you are the commander of the house and I shall obey.”
His brow raises, and I feel like a dirty thought just slipped into his brain.
“And here comes your stellar snark,” he says, sarcastic.
I feel anger boiling. “You, likewise, have nothing nice to say about me. Can we just agree that we will stay out of one another’s way? Which means when I am cooking, then leave me the hell alone.”
“I believe you just set a rule which you were adamant we don’t do.” Smartass is really going all in on the irritation front.
My hands finds my hips, and I’m now just agitated. “We will only go in circles in every conversation. Shall we end this now before I throw something?”
“I’m a good catcher.” He offers me a contrite grin.
I step closer to him. “You know, for someone who is a pitcher and throws curveballs, you sure as hell don’t anticipate them. So, thank you, Spencer, thank you for ensuring we both end up in a situation like this where I have to be stuck under your roof because of your mistake.”
He scoffs a sound. “Because your life was going so well.” He walks past me, his shoulder hitting my own.
As he leaves the kitchen, I know his words hurt because insecurity is a bitch.
It’s a little brisk, I’ll admit that. The water in the lake, however, is doable for a quick swim. A fast swim is what it will need to be, as the sun is setting.
Every stroke is filled with my emotional state which could be a little calmer, I confess.
I hear Pickles’ low bark. My faithful canine has been sitting on the dock watching me. I’m not quite sure he even knows how to swim or at least the water is probably too deep for him.
But I hear a splash, and I stop mid-stroke to assess the scene. Even treading water, I manage to roll my eyes when I see Spencer’s sporty physique swimming in my direction.
I swim a few feet until I know my toes can touch the bottom, and Spencer meets me there.
After he walked out of the kitchen, I whipped up some cookie dough to set in the fridge and pulled together a chickpea salad.
Keeping my hands busy in the kitchen was my distraction, just like Spencer going for a run or workout, whatever the hell star pitchers do in the off-season to keep themselves busy.
“You know this water is as cold as your heart,” he informs me as he swims in place.
“Then why are you here? I would assume you have other cool-off methods as part of your training.” I move my arms to keep me afloat.
He shakes his head. “Because it’s barely light out and you are swimming in a dark lake.” His tone feels like he is scolding me.
“Not your problem.”
“Really? Tell that to Hudson and Piper when we find your body in the morning.” He takes me by surprise and grabs hold of me, bringing my body to his.
My breath catches in response. “Let go of me.”
“No, we’re getting out of the water, even if I have to carry you back.”
I set my hands on his shoulders and that move catches him off guard. For a moment, we both stare at one another with the glow of the evening sky tracing our faces.
“I was almost done,” I breathe out.
He doesn’t respond instantly; instead, his eyes peer down and up. I know the temperature is causing two pebbles to appear through my suit. It’s only when I study him that I realize that he jumped into the water still in his workout shirt and shorts.
“Don’t you have strength training to do after your cardio? Clearly you are not following your schedule,” I quip.
His hands swiftly move to my waist and in one go he lifts me into the air. “There. Strength training is done. Now can we get out of the fucking water, after you promise to keep your swims to the pool?”
He doesn’t bring me back down, and I realize he is waiting for me to answer.
It is freezing, I can’t deny it. I need to move as soon as possible. “Fine. I promise.”
As if I am a delicate piece of glass, Spencer slowly brings me back down into the water. Our eyes never part, especially when my body slithers against his.
“Good girl, now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We both swim to the ladder on the dock and get out. I grab the towel that I had left earlier by Pickles and wrap it around my body.
Spencer is already walking away in a stormy mood. He jumped into the water unplanned, so he has no towel and his workout clothes are wet.
He seems angry, and I follow at a distance behind him. When he abruptly stops, I do too.
Spencer glances over his shoulder. “Do me one damn favor. You may hate being here, nor am I celebrating, but while you’re here, try not to do anything that I wouldn’t want a child to do. Lead by example.”
My mouth gapes open. “Are you comparing me to a child again?”
His face looks pained, and he rubs his temples with his fingers. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean…” He bites his lip and seems to be debating what to say. “All I’m saying is stick to the kitchen for getting out your stress, it’s safer.”
“I doubt that. Kitchen injuries have a lot higher statistic for emergency rooms than dark lakes.”
Spencer rolls his eyes to the side, and I see a hint of a smirk because the outside lights in his backyard are on. A long breath escapes him. “Just get inside.”
“I’ll go inside because I want to go inside, not because you told me to,” I say as I walk by him.
“So cooperative,” he retorts.
I don’t look at him, but I can only imagine he follows me inside with annoyance.
Sitting at the kitchen counter, I tear a piece off a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie and take a bite before I inspect the rest of the cookie. These are damn good.
I’m tired and should probably head to bed. I'm certainly not doing myself any favors by eating before bed, but I’m still taking in my surroundings and the fact that I am in this situation.
The man of the house enters the room, but I don’t bother looking up from the plate of cookies. Nor do I care that I am in tiny shorts and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt. Might as well make myself at home.
“Vampires don’t sleep, guess that explains why you're here.”
I give him the death stare as he grabs a glass from the cupboard. “Nor does the devil, so I guess we know why you're not asleep.”
Spencer leans against the counter. “That was some damn excellent salad. The chickpeas are exactly what I need for my protein intake.”
My body straightens from the compliment; not many people have tried my new flare for cooking.
“Not too much lemon?” I narrow my eyes. He shakes his head. “Garlic balanced out?” He nods. “More feta next time?” His head bobs side to side.
Jesus, he is agreeing with me on all fronts.
“The poison should kick in soon.”
He toasts his empty glass at me. “Wouldn’t expect anything else.”
I watch him pour a bottle of water into his glass before he swipes a cookie from the plate in front of me. A sound escapes his mouth that causes my eyes to widen slightly, a throwback to a time that shouldn’t have been.
He enjoys cookies the same way he enjoys my pussy.
A long silence graces us, and I wiggle my fingers against the countertop.
“Do you have any hard liquor?” I shoot out.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“After the way this week is going, yes, I’m sure. It’s after 8pm, so I’m leading by example.” I give him a cocky look.
He shakes his head ruefully. “All right.”
Spencer walks to a high cupboard near the pantry and pulls out a bottle of tequila. I kind of assumed a guy like him would have a whole bar for entertaining, but alas, no.
A minute later, he has two shot glasses on the counter, and before he has a chance to find lime or salt, I pour a glass and quickly down it.
“Whoa, slow down, horsey.” He takes the bottle from me.
“It's been one of those days,” I lament and hold my glass out again.
“No shit. Want to talk about how you’ve been in a mood since the grocery store?”
Great, the reminder. I had nearly put the grocery store fiasco to the back of my head. Now that emotional boil begins to resurface… again.
“You have shitty timing,” I inform him.
Spencer also takes a shot without the essential lime and salt. “I beg to differ. When it comes to baseball and sex, then my timing is right on par.”
“Of course, you would say that. I just need no more surprises for a while.’
He pauses for a second and his jaw flexes side to side. “April, about the child comment—”
My hand flies up to stop him. “Don’t remind me. You are as bad as Jeff. It’s not true, you know?” I hop off the stool and hold onto the shot glass for dear life. “I’m a fun person.”
“Riveting,” he deadpans.
But my rant continues. “I would have been a good wife.
You know, sometimes two people just are not sexually compatible or maybe he is the one who's no good in bed. So good luck to his new fiancée. Besides, how wrong is he, I mean, I made a sex tape because I can be wild, so fuck him and his opinions,” I ramble, take a shot, then realize to my horror what I just admitted.
My eyes shoot up to Spencer who is studying me intently. “Is that why he ended your engagement, because he thought you weren’t good in bed?”
I avoid his eyes because this is beyond embarrassing. “Can we just ignore the last minute?”
“No, because it isn’t true.”
My gaze snaps in his direction, and I can’t read his face. “You don’t need to lie on my account.”
The corner of his mouth hitches up. “When you talk, sometimes I want to ram a soap bar into your mouth, but damn, you have a talented mouth.”
I feel my jaw drop because he has such strong conviction in his voice, and his words are probably the sweetest thing someone has said to me in a while, which has me questioning my sanity.
Spencer steps in my direction, and I feel like anticipation moves in a wave through me. I’m not sure what he's going to do, especially when his glass clinks against the counter when he sets it down in passing.
When he reaches me, his fingers grab my glass. “You may want to go easy with this.” He sets it behind him on the counter.
“Show me the video.”
He clucks the inside of his cheek. “Not a good idea.”
“If you get to watch it then so do I.”
“Why, because I was the point you needed to prove? The proof that you are not terrible in bed?” his voice rasps as he steps closer to me, invading my air. The heat of his body enters my realm. One step closer and we'll touch.
“Show me the video,” I bite out.
“Admit my theory is correct,” he counters.
I don’t blink or move. My face feels tight but so do the internal walls between my legs. “Fine. You know my secret. What the hell was your excuse for that night?”
His lips stretch in a closed-mouth leer as the pad of his thumb finds my bottom lip. “Let it be known that I don’t think this is the smartest of ideas. But okay, you are a player in our little show. If you want to watch the video, then we will do it right now.”
I bite his thumb gently. “We?”
“My condition. I’ll show you the video, but I get to watch you beg that night. So, would you like to keep it low-key and watch on my phone or should I connect it to the big screen?”
“Oh, now you know how to use technology,” I snipe.
He chuckles, a sinful velvet sound, almost a warning.
“I need another shot for this,” I admit because his conditions be damned. I’m going to watch that night on replay.