Chapter 4
GABE
Last night was therapeutic and I’m in a chipper mood…
all because of one woman. I crave that deep kind of connection that I got from Layla last night.
I haven’t had that since my divorce. And I want more of it.
But I also want her. I know she felt the same way as I did, because from what I can tell from her body language, we hit it off.
But neither of us made a move. Now I wish I had.
I know the way that sounds. It wasn’t just about how I got my rocks off afterwards.
It’s not I haven’t been propositioned since my divorce; I have.
But a quick fuck is not what I’m about. I genuinely enjoyed connecting with her and the conversation we had.
But I also want to explore what’s between us on another level.
We’d be good together, I think, if we just had the chance.
It’s a shame that I may never see her again.
There’s not much I wouldn’t give for another night with her.
Boarding the charter bus, I can’t keep the smile from my face. And the players notice.
“Hey, Coach! What has you smiling like that? I bet it’s a woman. It’s a woman isn’t it?” Tony, the first baseman, booms.
Fucking, Tony. Always giving me a hard time. He’s the team jokester. I just shake my head and walk to my seat. But wouldn’t you know, I’ve barely sat down before Javy pipes up.
“Hey, Coach! You get some last night? That woman you were with at the bar was fiiiine! Is that why you didn’t play poker last night?” he teases.
Okay, that’s enough. Standing, I paste a mean scowl on my face. The players know I mean business when I have this look. “Javy!” I yell, like a drill sergeant. “Sit the fuck down and shut your mouth!”
His smirk drops from his face almost immediately.
“Sorry, Coach,” he says, his shoulders sagging a little bit as he walks past me and takes his seat.
The boy needs to grow up. He’s made it to the big leagues; he needs to act like it.
That includes not gossiping like a teenager about someone’s personal life.
Especially mine. Sitting back down, I pull out my tablet and headphones.
I might as well take care of a few things on the way to the park.
Layla
Fresh off a satisfying evening with superb company and an amazing orgasm, I greet my morning with the tenacity of a shark. Today’s the day I close this deal and sell off another one of my start-ups.
I began and sold my first start-up while I was still in school, unlike most college students who were too busy partying and hooking up.
All they focused on was their future, not the present.
But not me. I knew what I wanted and went after it.
And today, it shows. I’m a multi-millionaire.
But I’m not satisfied yet. I’m going to ride the train of success until I can’t ride it anymore.
It’ll be years until that happens. Which works, as I can sell-off my remaining businesses and slow down, if I choose to.
Or, I can continue to beat the competition and make bank.
A pep in my step, I take the elevator to the lobby and head outside to my ride waiting for me.
My serious face takes over as I prepare to slay in the boardroom.
By the end of the day, this deal will be nothing but a passing thought in the rearview mirror.
That evening, my driver takes me back to the hotel.
The entire way, I can’t keep the satisfied little smirk off my face.
I officially closed another deal and it feels so good!
Not that I ever had any doubt. People beg to buy my start-ups.
And, if I think they’re ready to be sold, I sell them.
To the right people, of course. I don’t just sell off my business-babies to just anyone.
They need to be smart, savvy, and ready to take the reins, ready to continue their success.
And the group that just paid me millions?
They’re the right kind of people. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll do my business-baby proud.
And that, in turn, makes me deliriously happy.
In fact, I’m so happy that I can’t hide the smile from my face.
Today was a damn good day. Walking into the lobby, I watch as people walk around, some entering and some exiting.
I glance fervently at the bar, a glimmer of hope inside that I’ll see a certain tall, tatted, man who just so happens to be baseball’s sexiest manager.
And to my surprise, who do I see? None other than Gabe Goldwyn.
The man who’s invaded my thoughts since we shared a drink at that particular hotel bar last night.
I could use a drink to celebrate. Why not share it with Gabe? Changing course from the elevator to the bar, I make a beeline towards Gabe’s back. He hasn’t seen me yet. Tossing my hair over my shoulder and strutting my stuff, I walk to Gabe, slipping into the seat next to his.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask unabashedly.
His head turns, his eyes meeting mine.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he replies, a smile on his handsome face. “Join me?”
I grin. “Absolutely. Besides, I could use a celebratory drink anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” he says, slowly spinning the glass with his fingers. “What are we drinking to?”
“To the newest sale of one of my start-ups,” I tell him, a huge smile on my face. I’m damn proud of the fact.
He nods, impressed. “That definitely sounds like a celebration is in order.” He flags down the bartender for me. “Pinot Noir?” he asks, remembering what I ordered last night.
I shake my head. Not this time. “Champagne, please. Your finest bottle,” I tell the bartender.
“Champagne, huh? Fancy,” he teases, a smile still on his handsome face, eyes twinkling.
“Only the best.” A pop sounds and the bartender comes back with my bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Join me?”
“Sure,” he replies, pushing his empty highball glass away.
“To success,” I declare, raising my champagne glass to his.
“To success,” he echoes, clinking his glass gently against mine.
Taking a sip of my bubbly, I savor the bubbles that roll over my tongue in a delicate dance.
“Not bad,” he declares, once he’s taken a sip.
“Mmm,” I hum, sipping more of my drink. “Not too shabby. But I’ve had better.”
He laughs softly, his eyes on mine. “Congrats, Layla.”
“Thank you, Gabe.” I sigh.
“And?” he asks. “You seem happy, but there’s something else.”
Perceptive.
“It’s… it’s such a relief when they sell.
Not that I ever have any doubts, mind you.
But it’s also bittersweet. The start-ups I sell off, each of them are like my brainchild, so they’re like my babies.
And when I sell them off, it’s like letting go of something that’s dear to you.
It feels kind of strange for them to be gone. It’s almost like empty-nest syndrome.”
“You have other start-ups?”
“I do. I incubate and grow them, then sell them off. It’s the same cycle over and over.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” I catch myself saying, my eyes getting misty.
I’m getting sentimental over a company, for crying out loud.
But I put my blood, sweat, and tears into each and every one of my start-ups, so it’s only natural to feel a little subdued once they’re in someone else’s hands.
“Definitely bittersweet,” he says to me, taking my hand in his. I welcome his touch.
I nod, pursing my lips. I will not cry. “Did you win today?” I ask, transferring the topic of conversation to him and his team.
“We did,” he replies, his roughened pad of his thumb stroking the soft skin of my hand.
“One step closer to clinching the division, then.”
“You know your baseball,” he says, smiling at me, still stroking my skin.
“I like to think I know a little more than the average person on the street.” What I don’t tell him is that I looked up the Blue Valley Vipers. Since they’re not my team, I wasn’t as familiar with them. I am now, though. All thanks to meeting Gabe.
“More champagne?” he asks, looking at my empty glass. When did that happen?
“Yes, please. This is my last.” He refills my glass and I take a drink of the cool, bubbly liquid.
“One more game tomorrow?” I ask. I already know the answer, but I want to see what he says.
“Yep. Then on to Cincinnati.”
Truth. “Any plans for tonight?”
“Nope. You?”
“No,” I say wistfully, taking down the rest of my drink. His thumb stops moving, but he keeps his hand on mine.
“I—”
“Do you—”
We both laugh softly. “You go first,” he tells me.
I get flustered. Why? I don’t know. I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t be flustered. Instead, I just blurt out what’s on my mind. “You’re not, ahem, attached, are you? Like a girlfriend or wife?”
A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Not attached. Single as can be. What about you?”
“Same. No attachments.” Good. I will never be the other woman.
“Want to get out of here?” he asks boldly. I thought he’d never ask.
“Yes, please.”
Signaling the bartender, he closes out our tab. And don’t think I didn’t notice he picked up my tab, too. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, come on,” he says, helping me off the barstool. Hand on my lower back, he walks me to the elevator and presses the button. “Your room or mine?” he asks softly.
“Yours,” I say. I have to fly out in the morning. I don’t want any awkward goodbyes.
“Done,” he replies, punching the button for his floor.
The ride to the tenth floor is short and we’re alone in the elevator. “Gabe, I—”
“Hold that thought,” he says under his breath, the elevator doors swishing open.
An elderly couple is waiting to board. But, thankfully, it’s his floor so we step off, still holding hands. Rounding the corner, we make it to his door in short order. “Last chance,” he says, waiting to open the door.
“Yes.”
“Good answer.”