Leo Maddox (10 page)

What.

The.

Fuck.

My heart expanded to almost painful proportions as her weight settled onto my lap and her hands came to rest on my chest. I don’t know what she was playing at or why this was suddenly happening. But she had my full attention. That was for damn certain.

She leaned forward to say something in my ear, quietly so that only I could hear, “Maybe you already know this, since you obviously know everything about me...or maybe I just need to say this for my own good...but I hate Andrew Wellington's effing guts. We went on a few dates, but I have no intention of ever going out with him again. As for the toying—yes, I'm toying with you. But I would never purposely hurt you.” She swallowed hard and then leaned back to look at me. “Understand?”

Words failed me.
Know everything about her?
I hardly knew anything about her. What did that mean? Did she think I knew her well? Did I? I wasn’t sure of anything in this moment. Only the way she felt sitting in my lap, with her legs straddling me—so open, so vulnerable. My hands grew a mind of their own and slipped along her jean covered thighs. Damn. Was this part of her toying or part of the real Clara nobody on this planet had the privilege of truly knowing? I wanted to know that girl. I wanted this to be real, not a game.

Her breathing increased as I studied her. Almost immediately, as if this was too much, as if my close proximity was getting her as aroused as I felt, she sat up to move off me and to go for her seat beside me. But before she could get away, I caught her wrist and motioned for her to come closer. She leaned forward into me.

“That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me,” I whispered.

The stunned look that coated her face was beyond sexy. I knew immediately that this wasn’t a game. This was real and this was the real Clara. A little vulnerable. A little shy. A little trapped under layers and layers of sarcasm.

I let her go—for now—and she slid into her own seat.

The rest of the game went fine. Conversation was safe, easy, and centered on the game. It felt nice just spending time with her. Clara was witty and easy going. She even got along with Tony and Charlie. But eventually the game had to end. And as we said goodbye to my friends, and Stephany, Clara, and I walked for the nearest stadium exit, I felt this really nice calmness surrounding me.

I felt normal.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I asked her, taking Paul’s advice about prolonging our time. “Are you going back to Brooklyn?”

“I am,” Steph piped up to say. “I have work for my internship that I need to finish tonight.”

I eyed Clara intently. “What about you? Are you going with her?”

“I hadn't really thought that far ahead, why?” she asked.

“Because if you aren't going with Steph, then you should spend the rest of the day with me.”

There. I said it. I wanted more time with her, simple as that.

“I don't know,” Clara muttered.

“Actually,” Steph interrupted again, revising her earlier statement. “I have tons of work. Tons and tons. You better take Leo up on his offer. You'll just distract me if you come back with me. And you snore. I got absolutely zero sleep last night.”

Smiling, I mouthed a thank you to Stephany as Clara turned to glare in her direction. I’m not sure why, but Clara’s friend sure seemed to have my back. That was certainly a first. Most people automatically hated me rather than offering her level of blind support.

“Okay,” Clara finally said, giving me the smallest but cutest smile.

So it was agreed. Stephany had to go home to do her homework or something, while I was going to continue this day with the most beautiful girl on the planet. Holy shit. How had I even made this happen? Hell, only two days ago I was on my ass in the grass after she’d ran me over with a golf cart. Now look at me. She’d agreed to a date. Stephany parted ways with us—taking advantage of my town car, letting my driver take her home. And as Clara said goodbye to her friend, I noticed her eyes go wet with unshed tears. It wasn’t spoken out loud, and who knows what this meant for me, but it was implied that Clara wouldn’t be staying with Stephany for her second night in New York. I assumed that meant she’d be staying at my hotel instead. Obviously, probably in her own hotel room…but a guy could dream.

And as the town car pulled away from the curb, Clara became uncharacteristically quiet. It was just the two of us and she was still battling the tears that wanted to slip out. That pulled at my heart and clenched at my gut. Clara wasn’t typically an emotional girl. Actually, I’m not sure if I’d ever seen her cry in recent years. She was hardcore and rock-solid. But, and only for someone very special to her it seemed, she was gooey and soft. It made me fall in love with her just a little bit more.

So I waited, without saying a damn thing for about the first time in my life, for Clara to collect herself. Once she was better, she joked, “So, no one gave me shit about my shirt. Admit it, you were wrong.”

I smiled. “Never,” I told her softly. “No one gave you shit because your Jesus looks more like Zach Galifianakis. I didn't want to tell you earlier because I didn't want to hurt your artistic feelings, but I bet no one even realized what you were trying to draw.”

“Whatever,” she laughed, rubbing the last of the evidence away from her eyes. “You realized.”

“Well, I'm the exception to the rule,” I countered. “And anytime you want to come back to New York to see Steph, I’ll take you. Or I can have my jet take you. Whichever.”

“Oh,” she muttered, surprised by my offer.

Yes, I could be nice when I wanted to be. And yes, I desperately wanted to end this lifelong battle of meanness with Clara and opt for only the nice stuff instead.

“Okay then, let's get out of here.” I reached out, grabbing her hand in mine. My fingers intertwined with Clara’s and I gently pulled her in the direction I wanted to go. She gave in, letting me take her hand and lead her. “We can't take a cab,” I explained, my heart soaring to heights it had never been just holding her hand. I kept talking because my mouth needed to keep moving right this moment. “Trying to catch a cab after a game around here is always a disaster. I could call a car, but that would take forever so I hope you're okay with the subway.”

We reached the subway entrance and headed down the steps. Although the baseball game ended almost thirty minutes ago, there were still people in pinstripes and blue everywhere. I tightened my grip on Clara’s hand, not wanting to risk getting separated. Weaving through the crowd, I led her onto the train’s platform.

“I'm shocked as hell you know how to ride the subway,” Clara suddenly said as we waited for the next train to arrive. “Beyond shocked.”

Rather surprised by her comment, I tried to act casual. Who did she think I was? Richie Rich? Yes, I had the money, but that didn’t mean I’d never set foot on a subway. Despite appearances, I wasn’t a stereotype. “It's just the subway, Clara,” I explained.

“No, it's not just the subway—it’s the whole day. You go to Yankees games, sit in the outfield, have surprisingly regular friends, and then take the subway. Who are you and what did you do with the real Leo Maddox?”

What the hell? Did all this bother her? I inched closer to her body, my eyes narrowing. “Do you find this other side of me
offensive
?”

“No,” she quickly said, her face blanking as she backed down from an argument with me for perhaps the first time ever. “I don’t…the opposite, actually. I like these things about you...a lot. Maybe more than I should.”

Wow. I studied her long and hard for several seconds, both of us breathing just a little too heavy. Wanting to kiss her more than ever, I managed to refrain. I was out of my element with this girl and I didn’t know how to handle that. And when I thought I couldn’t possibly be affected any more, the train pulled into the station and the wind from the movement caused her hair to dance all around her face. Jesus Christ. She was absolutely gorgeous. Like an angel and a demon got together and had the perfect love child. That was Clara. A force to be reckoned with—with the sweetest heart at her center.

Clara’s hand dropped from mine as she brushed her wild hair from her eyes. The train doors slid open and quickly she stepped on. I followed. The inside was jammed with people and we had nowhere to sit. Even all the standing room was full. I grabbed a handle bar on the ceiling, waiting to see what Clara would do. At her short height, it was clear she wouldn’t be able to reach the handles. Would she use me as a handle instead? I hadn’t thought of this dilemma, but instantly I loved it.

The car lurched forward and Clara did not take advantage of me. Instead she bumped into some sweaty, big-bellied, bearded man standing beside her. “Sorry,” she muttered and inched away from him. Her eyes met mine and I could tell she was considering grabbing onto me—but somehow she was hesitant.

“It's okay, killer,” I told her softly, “I want you to.”

Her eyes went wide. “You planned this!”

“What do you mean?” I asked. No, I hadn’t planned this, but I should have.

She crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “You planned riding the subway because you knew I would be too short to reach the handles and would have to hold onto you. Newsflash…I happen to have great balance. You just wait and see!”

I kept a straight face. “Okay then.”

As the train rounded a corner, she tried to keep steady. But of course, another lurch and she landed right on top of the same man beside her for the second time in a row.

“You trying to feel me up, Missy?” the man asked, winking at her.

“No, sir,” she said, rushing to move back in my direction

I threw my head back and laughed. I couldn’t help myself. She was too stubborn for her own good. It had been this way our whole lives. And—

All of a sudden, her arms wrapped around my waist and the laugher died in my throat. Because this wasn’t just some forced, ass-out hug coming from her. We’d shared plenty of those type of polite pleasantries over the years and this was the opposite of that. She pressed her body into my body, her arms circling me tight, and her fingers digging into the material of my shirt. This was the realest hug she’d given me since we were about six years old.

In an instant I couldn’t breathe, move, or speak. My heart was racing away from me. And in this moment, I couldn’t help myself—my free hand moved to the back of her head in such a gentle way that it shocked even me. My fingers dug through that long, tantalizing hair of hers and came to rest on her neck. I looked down into eyes that stared wide and big back in my direction. Something about this moment and about our touch took me back in time, to a memory I’d been keeping close to my heart my entire life.

My memory was of a four-leaf clover, a funeral, and a dark library.

And the very moment I fell in love.

For days Maggie had been crying over the loss of her mother, while, the tougher of the two, Clara, reacted differently. She withdrew into herself. I’d always had a similar relationship with both twins—fun, light, and easy. But after Mrs. Ryder passed away, Maggie leaned on me and Clara pushed me away.

On the day of the funeral, as they were lowering the casket into the ground, Clara was off in the grassy field of that graveyard, bent over and searching for something, distant and separated from the rest of the people attending the funeral. My father told me that I ought to talk to her, that the way she was holding her emotions in wasn’t normal for a girl, and that I should go keep her company. Reed and Maggie couldn’t right that moment and so I needed to go. In my six years of life, if I’d learned one thing, it was to never question my father.

So, I did as I was told.

“What are you doing?” I asked Clara as I approached. Her fingers fluttered over the grass around her. There were no tears on her face. No sign in her eyes that she’d lost her mother only a few days ago. No sadness. No nothing. But all that nothing didn’t feel right coming from Clara. She was normally so full of life. I hated seeing her so…emotionless. Even at my age, I understood that just wasn’t right for her.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Leave me alone.”

“My dad told me to come play with you.”

She groaned. “Fine. I’m looking for four-leaf clovers. Want to help?”

I shrugged and bent to my knees. If it made her feel better, then I guess I could help her. I thought this was the stupidest, most pointless game she’d ever come up with. And Clara was usually the creative one. But I kept my mouth shut and searched the patch of clovers we were standing in.

“There,” I said, spotting one. I pointed but didn’t pick it.

Then we proceeded to argue over who should keep it. Frankly, it was a piece of grass and I didn’t want it. So in the end, Clara ended up taking it home. I told her to press it in the pages of a book and that would keep it safe. She just stared at me like I was crazy. Then her father called us to come join the others.

That was the saddest day of my life.

But little did I know, things were about to get so much worse. I loved Mrs. Ryder almost as much as my own mother. But two days later, my own mother disappeared in the middle of the night. She packed a single suitcase and took off. No goodbyes or anything. Suddenly, I became just as motherless as Maggie and Clara. It was so strange and so horrible. I couldn’t understand what had happened.