Chapter 48
Istroll into Savage Pizza, my heartbeat already pounding. See, I’m going to ask famous baseball player Rex Bennett for an exclusive, in-depth article where I shadow him for a few weeks.
And if he says yes, I have a shot at replacing the editor at the newspaper I work for. Can you imagine? Me, in the coveted editor’s chair! It’s been my dream for years.
All I have to do is get Rex to say yes to the article. I scan the restaurant, which is pretty packed, until I find a familiar set of faces.
“And that’s why they call him Buzz Saw!” Cole Bennett crows.
The twelve people at the table break into a raucous laughter. His brother Brooks, the man in question, is red as a beet but laughing harder than anyone. “That’s not fair! What if I tell everyone how you peed down the slide in fifth grade?”
“I consider that a show of dominance,” Cole jokes.
The crowd laughs again.
I walk up to the group, feeling a bit nervous. My sister Savannah only married Cole a few months ago and we have been slowly introducing our groups of friends to each other. The Billion Dollar Bennetts don’t truly need any friends because there are so many of them that it’s hard to keep them straight sometimes.
“Birdie! Over here!” My sister stands up and waves me over to where she has an empty chair saved for me.
I give the group a quick smile and hurry to sit next to Sav. She usually dresses very feminine and romantic in swishy little sundresses and big bows in her hair. At the moment, she is insanely pregnant and wearing a white maternity dress sprinkled with flowers. She looks radiant and also exhausted.
“Do you want a margarita?” she asks. “We have a pitcher.”
That’s Sav; always doing everything in her power to make everyone around her comfortable.
“Yeah. But for god’s sake, let me grab it. Just relax.”
The group around us breaks up into small conversations. I pour myself a lukewarm margarita from a pitcher. I take a sip and instantly set it down.
I don’t want to insult anyone that likes this sugary drink. But it’s absolutely disgusting. Pushing it away, I eye the half-full pitcher. I should’ve known better.
I look around the enormous table at the other people assembled. Aside from Sav and Cole, there’s Cole’s brother River, River’s wife Pearl, and then the other Bennett Brothers. Brooks and Rhett, if I recall their names correctly.
Where is Rex? He’s the reason I got a babysitter for my son Dex tonight.
The names are certainly in the brown leather spiral bound notebook in my purse. I’d have to go back through my copious notes and check. The second I had the idea to do a focus feature about someone from the Billion Dollar Bennetts, I started keeping meticulous track of every interaction I’ve ever had with the family members.
Other than the Bennetts, there are several handsome men and a few insanely beautiful women. I don’t know these women from Adam. But using my reporter’s eye, I notice that they are all very dressed up. Short, expensive dresses. Long fake nails and heavy fake lashes. They are all immaculately made up, as if they are going out to a club.
When in fact, they are here at the only vaguely cool bar in South Shore. It’s mainly a pizza restaurant and it doesn’t even serve shots. Just pre-made margaritas, wine, and a lot of beer.
My gut tells me that these women are single and this group has a lot of handsome, single men. I cast a jaundiced eye over the offerings. Yeah, I can see that each man is handsome in his way. Rhett is hot in a studious, glasses wearing sort of way. Brooks looks handsome in his red plaid shirt and jeans. The other man at the table that I don’t know is wearing a light blue polo and khakis. And he is downright smoldering.
I lean over to Sav. “Who is that in the blue shirt?”
Sav looks and then nods. “That’s Walker. He’s best friends with Rex and Rhett.”
I raise a brow and make a note. The more I learn about the Bennetts, the more fascinating they become.
Savannah links her arm through mine, her radiant smile looking at home anywhere – even if it’s a scuzzy pizza joint with a bunch of pool tables in the back room. Cole moves chairs and sits by us, his hands casually tucked in his pockets.
“What’s up, Birdie?” he asks. He lifts a light-colored beer toward me and then takes a sip.
“Not much.” I force a smile to my lips. “Thanks for inviting me out.”
Cole slides a long look at Sav. Sav ignores him and leans forward to change the conversation.
I would guess, then, that Sav invited me out. Whatever. It’s not the first time I got a pity invite because I’m her sister.
”Have you been working on a new story, Birdie?” Savannah chirps, squeezing my arm.
”Maybe. I’m chasing down some leads. Trying to decide on which story I want to pursue.” A total lie. I’ve been working this Bennett story for a couple of weeks and loosely following up on other leads just to make my boss, Herman, happy. ”But tonight”s about cheap drinks, cheaper jokes, and catching up.”
”Speak for yourself,” Cole interjects. He leans over toward me a boyish smirk. It makes him look like he”s planning something mischievous. ”I brought the good stuff. A bottle of red that”s older than you.”
”Ha! As if anything could be older than me,” I quip back, playfulness lacing my voice. “Haven’t you heard? I’m twenty-six and I’ve got a kid. I’m in bed at nine p.m.”
Sav shakes her head. “Don’t let him lie to you. We go to bed when the sun goes down. Charlie would rather die than let us sleep in.”
Charlie is Cole’s son. I thought that my son Dex was his Aunt Savannah’s number one love. But her priorities have shifted since she met Cole.
Now, I’m pretty sure Charlie is her favorite human being alive. Followed by Cole, her unborn baby, and then Dex is somewhere after that. It’s been a harder transition for me to accept than Dex because he loves having a kid his age in the family.
Chuckling, I accept that I just have to deflate my ego a little.
I”m mid-laugh when the atmosphere shifts. The room”s energy tilts on its axis, as if realigning to a new north star.
My mouth goes dry.
He sucks all the attention from everyone. He is why the young women are all dolled up.
He’s why I’m here, too. I don”t even have to turn to know he”s arrived.
Rex Bennett, the enigmatic and charismatic pro baseball player for the Atlanta Kings. He’s built like an oak tree, tall and thick, with too long dark hair that flops into his eyes and has to be pushed back regularly. He’s ridiculously, unspeakably handsome. He’s been famous forever and is considered something of a hometown hero.
As for the women… He is notorious for being a huge player. Somehow, none of his conquests seem to mind that he flits from girl to girl, never settling.
And did I mention that he’s Cole”s big brother?
My pulse picks up a staccato rhythm that I can’t quite keep in check. I’m just excited about the possibility of getting closer to my… uh… story. Yep, that’s it.
”Speak of the devil...” Savannah murmurs, her gaze slicing through the sea of bodies to where Rex holds court at the entrance. He is every inch the athlete; broad shoulders set in an effortless stance, his smile easy but with a hint of arrogance that comes from being chased by both fame and fans. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, scan the room until they find us.
God, is he looking at me? I’m older than the other girls at the table. I’m wearing a simple green dress with a Peter Pan collar instead of a barely there gold tube dress. And I have a frigging kid.
Actually, that probably makes me the perfect target for a player like Rex. Wine me, dine me, never call me again. I would say I get it…
If I weren’t a naturally curvy girl. I’m more of Penelope Featherington from Bridgerton and less of a skinny Minnie. I’m not sure where that puts me as far Rex is concerned.
Not that I really need to worry about that. Rex is my ticket to getting a promotion. If I sleep with him and someone finds out, my objectivity in reporting on him could be called into question.
Which is fine. Rex may be pretty to look at, and a good athlete, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not interested in him.
Actually, I’m not interested in anyone until my six-year-old is out of the house.
”Time to charm the snake out of his den,” I whisper to myself. I smooth down my dress. I”ve got a story to chase. While Rex might be notorious for playing the field, I”m about to show him I”m not one to be outmatched.
I wait while Rex works his way around the table. He spends a few minutes talking to the women, who are here for him. Their flirtations are so obvious that it’s actually pretty hard to watch.
Just when I think Rex is free, another random girl comes up to him from the restaurant and starts talking to him.
Ugh. Will I be forced to endure watch fans heap their adoring attentions on Rex’s head? But then he breaks away from the strange woman and comes closer.
“Cole,” he says. His tone turns flirty. “And Savannah. How are you feeling, sugar?”
My sister smiles, but doesn’t engage with him head-on. “I’m feeling well, thanks for asking.”
Cole glares at his brother. “Watch your tone.”
Rex rolls his eyes. The threat rolls right off his back, like a duck shedding water. He turns to me. “Hey. How’s it going, Birdie?”
I blush and smile. Rex Bennet knows my fucking name.
“Pretty good. Just working, the usual. Um?—”
“Right. It’s nice to see you again.” He looks away.
Already, I am losing his attention. I need it.
I need him to pay attention to me for an hour or two.
I take a step toward him, my mind already spinning questions I want to ask. I think of the stories I need to coax from those all-too-knowing eyes. But first, I need an ”in”, something beyond the formalities of mutual acquaintances.
”Didn”t think you”d make it. The season keeping you busy?”
He turns fully, attention honed in on me like a spotlight. ”It has its ups and downs. But I never miss an opportunity for good company... and great drinks.”
”Ah, then you”re in luck. Cole”s been bragging about the vintage of his wine.” I flash him a conspiratorial grin and sashay closer, close enough to breathe in his cologne, a mix of cedarwood and something else, distinctly him. ”Though, between you and me, I think he”s just showing off.”
”Wouldn”t put it past him,” Rex laughs, the sound rich and inviting. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, and he flicks it back with a practiced charm. ”You know, I could use a guide. Someone to navigate me through the perilous waters of Cole”s wine selection.”
”Perilous waters? Please, consider me your personal lifeguard.” I offer a hand with mock solemnity, my fingers brushing against his. Electricity sparks—unexpected, thrilling.
”Is that so?” His eyes twinkle with amusement, and he takes a step closer, entering my personal space as if he belongs there. ”Hope you”re certified.”
”Only the best for the Bennett-Taylors.” I keep the tone light, playful. I”m threading a needle here, weaving between flirtation and professional curiosity.
I interviewed Rex for a brief piece about the trades his team made earlier this year. But I need to go deeper on him.
Rex is a treasure trove, just waiting to happen. This is the longform story I”ve been waiting for. It’s a chance to prove I can handle more than the fluffy stuff I’ve been writing lately. But damn if Rex isn”t making it hard to focus.
”Good to know.” He leans in, lowering his voice, and the crowd fades into a blur. ”Because, Birdie, when it comes to navigating uncharted territory, I prefer someone who”s not afraid to dive into deep waters.”
Oh, this man is trouble with a capital T. But as I meet his gaze, feeling the magnetic pull of his presence, I can”t deny it—I”m tempted to swim in those depths, reporter or not.
Rex”s response comes with a lopsided grin, one that tells me he”s game for the banter. ”I”ve been told I have that effect on people,” he says, leaning against the mahogany bar with an ease that speaks of countless hours spent in gyms and on fields. ”Can”t say I mind it when the outcome looks like you.”
”Flattery will get you everywhere—or nowhere fast,” I retort, sipping my drink to hide the flush I feel creeping up my neck. He”s good, I”ll give him that. And not just on the field.
”Let”s aim for somewhere in the middle then.” His eyes, a deep shade of brown, lock onto mine, and there”s a challenge there, something that goes beyond casual flirting. It”s like he”s trying to read the plays before they”re called, and I wonder if this is how he sizes up his opponents.
”Middle ground sounds safe,” I concede, feeling like we are two players assessing each other at the start of a game. ”You never know what you might find there.”
”Exactly,” he nods, and the conversation shifts, like we”ve silently agreed to drop the pretense and actually talk.
”Tell me, Rex, aside from dodging overzealous fans and hitting home runs, what gets you out of bed in the morning?” The question is bold, maybe too personal, but I want to see beneath the exterior—the man behind the stats.
”Sunrises,” he answers without missing a beat. ”There”s nothing quite like the silence of the world before it wakes up. Plus, it reminds me that I”ve got another day to do something great.”
”Sunrises,” I echo, surprised by the poetic note in his voice. My mom would call that a sign of a soul that appreciates the calm before the storm, a sharp contrast to my dad”s all-consuming blaze that left us more than once in the ashes.
”Ever tried capturing one on camera?” I ask, intrigued despite myself.
”Every chance I get.” Rex pulls out his phone, swiping through photos until he finds a collection of dawn”s early light captured in hues of gold and pink. ”Not bad, huh?”
”Definitely not what I expected from the Atlanta Kings” notorious slugger,” I admit, my voice softening. There”s a vulnerability in sharing this side of himself, and it”s as disarming as it is endearing.
”Life”s more than baseball,” he says, pocketing his phone. ”What about you, Birdie? What drives you when the alarm goes off?”
”Stories,” I reply, the word slipping out with a certainty that roots me to the spot. ”There”s something about unraveling the threads of someone”s narrative, finding the truth amidst the noise.”
”Ah, the intrepid reporter,” he teases gently, though his gaze is thoughtful. ”Seeking out the stories that need to be told.”
”Something like that.” I take another sip, letting the cool liquid steady me. ”Though, I”m starting to think some stories are more complex than others.”
”Like mine?” His eyebrow quirks up, and it”s clear he”s not just talking about his career statistics or latest game highlights.
”Yours could fill a book, I bet,” I say, half-joking, half-serious. The layers of Rex Bennett-Taylor are proving to be more intricate than I”d anticipated.
”Only if you”re the one writing it,” he counters smoothly, and the air between us crackles with something unspoken, a current that”s pulling us closer with every word exchanged.
”Maybe I will,” I muse, the idea taking root. ”But only if you promise to give me more than just sunrises and baseball.”
”Deal,” he says, and extends his hand. I take it, feeling the solid warmth of his grip, a silent pact between us.
As our hands slowly part, I realize that this isn”t just about landing a story anymore. With Rex, it”s about discovering the unexpected.
The laughter from our group fades into the background as I lean closer to Rex, his guarded eyes holding stories untold.
”So, Mr. Mysterious,” I start, my voice low and teasing. ”What”s off-limits in the Rex Bennett-Taylor exposé?”
He leans back, a half-smile playing on his lips, yet there”s a barrier there that wasn”t before. ”Birdie, every man has to have his secrets.”
”Even from a charming reporter who”s dying to know more?” I bat my lashes at him, playful but persistent.
”Especially from them,” he replies, his tone light but firm. The challenge in his eyes stirs something inside me, a mix of frustration and intrigue. There”s a story behind those blue depths, one I”m determined to uncover.
”Fair enough,” I concede with a mock sigh, though I”m far from giving up. ”But you”ve piqued my curiosity now.”
”Good,” he says, his hand finding mine under the table, sending a jolt of electricity through me. His touch is warm, inviting, and I can”t help but wonder what it would be like to delve deeper into the enigma that is Rex.
Our fingers entwine, hidden from view. The world narrows down to the two of us. I feel the heat of his skin seep into mine, branding me with a desire to break through his defenses.
”Curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in slow, deliberate strokes. It”s a simple gesture, but it”s laced with promise, a tantalizing hint of what could be.
”Isn”t that what makes life interesting?” I counter, a flirtatious smile curving my lips as I meet his gaze head-on. ”Taking risks, chasing the thrill...”
”Perhaps,” he concedes, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. ”But some risks are more rewarding than others.”
”Guess we”ll just have to find out which ones are worth it,” I whisper, the words hanging between us like a challenge.
”Guess we will,” he agrees, and there”s an edge to his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
For a moment, we”re lost in each other, the tension palpable. Then Savannah”s laughter breaks the spell, reminding us that we aren”t alone. We pull apart, but the connection lingers, a thread stretched tight with anticipation.
I glance around to make sure no one noticed our intimate exchange. Everyone is wrapped up in their own conversations, oblivious to the silent dance happening right under their noses. And I can”t help but feel grateful for the distraction.
Because right now? All I want is to explore this magnetic pull that keeps drawing me back to Rex.