No Better Man (6 page)

At first, she didn’t say anything. Her shoulders rose and fell with steady breaths. Then she leaned forward slightly, just enough that he could see a section of her bra. Pink. Of course it was. Probably had unicorns and hearts all over it to match her magical, charmed, entitled life.

Eyes up
, he reminded himself, but it was too late. His body had already responded. What could he say? It’d been awhile since he’d seen a bra. Anyone’s bra. She wasn’t special.

“You’ll lose it anyway, Bryce,” Avery said quietly. “I know you’re facing foreclosure.”

He shook his head. At least she made it easy to keep himself in check. “That’s none of your damn business.” He leaned halfway over the table. “Mom doesn’t know about the bank, so we will
not
have this discussion in front of her.”

She glanced at the door, then back at him. “I can get you a check for twenty-three million dollars tomorrow,” she whispered. “That’s more than enough for you and your mom to do whatever you want. We’re talking seven figures, Bryce.” Her palm hit the table, emphasizing each syllable. “You’d be crazy to pass up that kind of money.”

Crazy? She was calling
him
crazy? He pushed back from the table and stood. “This is my family’s land.” And it was part of him. It was his life. He strode around the table and leaned down so that his lips stopped next to her ear. Maybe not the smartest move, considering she smelled real good, so fresh…citrus-y.

He heard her swallow. She tipped up her chin and gazed at him. Those eyes…the clarity of those blue eyes…

“I’m not selling,” he managed to say past the tight ache in his throat. Then he retreated back to his chair, before it was too late. Before he didn’t want to.

Avery folded her hands on the table like a prim headmistresses. “For the record, I happen to like your mom. She’s she sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I’m not trying to charm her.”

Like hell she wasn’t.

Her gaze intensified. “Think about her, Bryce. This money could take care of her for the rest of her life. It’s—”

“Here we are!” His mother scurried back into the dining room with a silver tray balanced in her hands. “Warm apple pie right out of the oven.” She set it on the table, and even though he wasn’t hungry the sugary cinnamon scent made his mouth water.

“Wow,” Avery gushed, purposely avoiding his eyes. “It smells like heaven!”

The compliment lured out Mom’s brightest smile, and she placed a plate in front of Avery like she was the queen of England, a huge slice of pie topped with homemade whipped cream.

Wow. She’d pulled out all the stops. That didn’t bode well for him. Mom taking a liking to Avery. That was the last thing he needed right now.

“So, what did I miss?” She slid his plate in front of him.

He opted to shovel in a hearty bite rather than answer that loaded question.

“Nothing much,” Avery chirped. “I was just telling Bryce we have a very generous offer to make you.”

His jaw clenched. He swallowed fire. “And I said, we’re not interested,” he muttered.

“Well good, then.” His mom’s smile attempted to build some kind of bridge between them. “We can move on to other, more interesting topics, can’t we?”

They did, but he had nothing more to say to Avery King. She babbled on and on about some charity she volunteered for, about her father’s fame and how hard it was to be so filthy rich, blah, blah, blah.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He rose and started to stack plates. “I have to head out soon. Got a game tonight.”

“That’s right!” Mom jumped up and took Avery’s plate. “We have a baseball team,” she informed her.

“I love baseball!” Avery scrambled out of her chair and collected the rest of the plates. “What time? Where is it? I’d love to come watch.”

His grip on the plates tightened until he could feel the tension in his knuckles.
Shit.

“You can do more than watch. We’re down a player tonight, isn’t that right, Bryce?”

Traitor. His mother was a traitor.

“Don’t think so,” he lied.

“Well, of course we are! John is out of town, remember?”

“We’ll be
fine
,” he exaggerated the word so she’d get the hint. “We don’t need a sub.”

Avery swooped next to him, her eyes round with what had to be fabricated innocence. “Are you sure about that? I’m really good. I played softball in high school and college.”

“Great.” He made sure his tone was as flat as the napkin he held in his hand. Before she could say anything else, he headed for the kitchen.

“Oh, this’ll be so fun!” She followed him and set the plates on the counter. “I’ll go change. I’ll be right back!”

“No hurry,” he called after her, but she didn’t seem to hear. That was because women like her only heard what they wanted to hear. She had no concept of reality, of what it felt like to battle through life instead of skipping merrily along Easy Street while she stopped every so often to smell the damn flowers.

He carted the dishes over to the sink and flicked on the water, squirted in the soap. Dishwasher. They needed a dishwasher. Another thing to add to his fix-it list. Fingers stinging, he scoured plate after plate until footsteps on the other side of the door warned of his mother’s impending arrival.

She’d have plenty to say about dinner. Unless he missed his guess, he was in for a stern talking-to. Mom never missed a chance to lecture on manners.

Sure enough, she plowed through the door with the momentum of a wild stallion. Wouldn’t surprise him if she snorted and pawed the ground before charging.

He pretended to be completely engrossed in scraping grease off her best platter, but it didn’t divert her.

She marched straight to the sink. “What was that about?”

He scrubbed the china, shaped his eyebrows into innocence. “What?”

“You know perfectly well ‘what,’ Bryce Walker.” She swiped the sponge out of his hand and tossed it in the sink. “You were downright rude to that girl. That’s not like you. Not at all.”

He retrieved the sponge and took his frustration out on the plate. “She’s so…pushy.” And oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t give this place up. He couldn’t turn his back on every memory he had of Yvonne, of his life here…

“She’s doing her job. You can’t fault her for that.” Mom’s disappointed frown relaxed into a softer gaze. “Besides, I happen to think Avery is lovely.”

“You think everyone’s lovely.” He flipped on the faucet to rinse the plate and resume his dish-duty penance for bad behavior. Not that it would get him anywhere with her.

“Well, she is.” She snatched a towel off the counter and stole the clean plate from his hand. “Didn’t you hear what she said? She’s on the board of a women’s shelter.” She held up the plate and inspected it, then set it on the counter. “She’s obviously very compassionate.”

“When the cameras are clicking, sure.”
She probably rescues kittens from trees and carries grocery bags for little old ladies, too.
He kept those comments to himself. Mom had never been a fan of sarcasm. He handed her another dripping plate.

“For your information, Avery told me she hates cameras.” His mother took great care mopping the plate, then set it on the clean stack. “She said she hates all of it, actually. The hullabaloo. She’d rather be left alone.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes the woman was too gullible for her own good. “And you believe her.”

“I can tell when someone’s lying.” Elsie crumpled the towel on the counter. “It’s all in the eyes. Hers are sincere.”

Sure. Okay. He’d give her that. Avery had sincere eyes. Stunning, intense eyes. But that didn’t make her a good person. He faced the sink again and washed the last of the dishes.

It got quiet. Too quiet.

When he turned back around, Mom’s gaze gave him nowhere to hide. “Bryce…you don’t have to stay here. You know that, don’t you?” She stepped closer. “You could sell to Mr. King. You shouldn’t hold onto this place for me.”

“I’m not.” There was a time, right after the accident that he wanted to leave, but this place had everything he needed. Simplicity, solitude, space. Not to mention his memories. How could he turn his back on all of that? “I’m holding onto it for me. It’s all I have left.”

“But you could build yourself a new life. Anywhere you want.”

“I’ve been everywhere. This is where I belong.”

She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “Yvonne would want you to be happy. To move on.”

Her name. Even just the sound of her name made him flinch. Someone would say it and she’d appear in his field of vision, a shimmering mirage with her brown hair gathered up on her head the way it always was right before bed. He still saw her that way, dressed in her pajamas right before bed because those moments were some of their best times together. The nights when he wasn’t out drinking. The nights when her depression wasn’t so severe and they’d give themselves to each other, their bodies speaking what their mouths couldn’t seem to voice…

“Bryce? Did you hear me, son?” Mom interrupted and jolted him back to the present.

He blinked to blot out the memories and eased in a breath. “I am moving on,” he lied. “Fixing up this place helps.” He ran his hand over the countertop’s chipped tiles. “It’s not much to look at now, but we’ll get there. There’s no way I’ll let them build some fancy resort on Gramps and Gran’s land.”

“That’s
not
moving on,” his mother murmured.

Before she could lecture him on the true definition of moving on, he slung an arm around her and steered her to the door. “Come on. We don’t want to be late for the game.”

“Wait.” She shrugged out from under his arm and glared up at him like she’d done when he was a kid. “Don’t be so hard on Avery. You be nice to her. Show her you know how to treat a lady.”

The word “lady” was a stretch for Avery King, but he let it go. “All right. Fine.” He eased his mother out the door. “I promise not to be a complete jerk.”

Unless she deserved it.

N
ow
this
was a ball field. Avery lowered herself from Bryce’s monster F-450 and wandered to the edge of the dirt parking lot. Down a small hill, on a flat section of land surrounded entirely by mountain peaks, overhead lights illuminated the baseball diamond, which had been marked off with white paint. A chain-link fence separated the field from a section of battered aluminum bleachers that had seen better days, but those mountains made up for the condition of the equipment. Who cared about the bleachers with a view like that?

“
Mmmwooofff!
”

Uh oh
… she spun just in time to see Moose barreling straight for her.

“Moose!” One word from Bryce and the dog hit the brakes, stopping just short of knocking her right down the hill.

It was the first word he’d spoken since they’d left the lodge. After Elsie insisted on driving herself so she could go straight home after the game, it had been quite the silent ride over, minus good old Moose whining in the back of the truck.

She bent to pet him. “What a good doggie.”

The dog licked her hand while his tail happily thumped the ground.

“So sweet, too, aren’t you?” She snuck a glance at Bryce. He wasn’t being sweet. He wasn’t being much of anything, really. Stoic, indifferent… those seemed to be his default settings.

Her gaze lingered on him a little too long as he unpacked his gear from the back of the truck. How did he do it, anyway? She found it impossible to be indifferent when he was around. One look at him and her heart thrummed recklessly, even when he was wearing black Nike wind pants and a plain gray t-shirt. And oh, sweet mercy, the way his hair stuck up around that faded Denver Broncos ball cap. A slow heat rolled through her and awakened the longing she’d tried to stomp down when she’d learned he was a widow. Bad idea, falling for someone who was clearly still in love with someone else. She’d seen it up close for too many years. For Dad, no one would ever live up to her mother. And judging by the way he’d reacted with that picture, Bryce felt the same way about Yvonne.

He wandered over. “We should head down.”

Wow! Four whole words! She fought the urge to give him a round of applause. Not that he would’ve seen it anyway, because he slung the duffel over his shoulder and turned his back to her, trudging down the slope like a big brother who was forced to let his annoying little sister tag along.

She jogged after him, but had a hard time catching up, what with those long strides of his and all. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was actually trying to run away from her. Good thing she knew where he lived. He could run, but he couldn’t hide from her. Not forever.

At the edge of the outfield, she finally caught up with him and Moose. People were already clustered around the benches by the chain-link fence.

The two of them walked in silence, seeing as how he didn’t talk much and she could hardly breathe because of the altitude. Moose trotted beside them, then must’ve caught some delicious scent because he bounded away in that happy-go-lucky way, ears flopping, tongue flapping in the breeze.

Bryce’s tennis shoes kicked up dust with his swift pace. His face had frozen into a somber expression—eyes focused straight ahead, lips set into a frown. She had half a mind to trip him or hug him or something…anything to snap him out of whatever mood he was in. Seriously. The man really needed to lighten up, smile more. He had the best smile. At least she thought he did. It was hard to remember, seeing as how he’d only smiled once in her presence.

Lucky for him, fun was one of her specialties. She sidled up next to him. “This is gonna be great. Who’re we playing?”

“Team Coors.” His eyes lowered for one of his special
I’m so above you
glances, but he didn’t turn his head. “They’re a group from the local bar.”

She checked out the opposition’s bench. Sure enough, there were a couple of twelve packs stacked near the gear. Some members of the team already held open cans in their hands. “Sweet. That’ll make it easy. By the seventh inning, they won’t even be able to walk the baseline, let alone run.”

Bryce slowed and peered down at her.

Wait a minute.
Holy smokes, Batman. Was that a smile on his face?

“We’ve shut ’em out the last six games.” The smile grew. It grew until it lit his eyes with an intensity that sparked a burning sensation deep in her chest. She did her best to ignore it, even as the feeling spread through her.
Whew.
She fought the urge to fan herself. She’d never felt a singe like this, not even with Logan.

They made it to the bench and he slung down the bag, that bicep of his knotted and tan and hard.

Her fingertips tingled with a desperation to touch it, to crawl their way up his arm, across his shoulders, kneading and caressing until all of his tension melted away…

“Can you help me with something?”

She gulped air to steady her lungs. “Sure,” she rasped, not meaning to sound all sultry, but it couldn’t be helped.

He dug a clipboard out of his bag and handed it to her. “Need someone to keep the stats.”

“Stats?” She glared at the clipboard and read the scorecard. He wanted her to sit on the bench and take stats?

“Yeah. You do know how to take stats, don’t you?” he asked as if skeptical about her vast baseball knowledge.

Despite the chill in the air, perspiration beaded on her forehead. Bryce was unbelievable. “Of course I
know
how to take stats.” She tossed the clipboard onto the bench. “But if I take stats, I won’t be able to play.” That was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? To stick her on the bench, out of the way. “I’ll be on the bench the whole game.”

He shrugged, a silent
so what?

A smile wriggled on her lips. She’d show him so what. She’d been an All-American pitcher on her college softball team. One of the best hitters on the team.
That’s right, Bryce Walker.
She had a lot to offer, and she’d prove it to him. “Your mom invited me to play.”

“My mom’s not in charge.” He stooped and unpacked the batting helmets, as if by not looking at her he could somehow deny her existence. But she wasn’t about to make it that easy.

She lowered to the ground, right next to him, and reached her hands over his to unpack the bats. “Fine, Bryce. That’s fine.”

His body stilled. Their eyes connected.

Pressure built inside of her, but she didn’t look away. She refused to let him know he got to her. “I’ll take the stats,” she said with a wry smile. “And I’ll play, too.” She leaned close for added effect. “So make sure to put me in the batting order, Coach.”

His mouth opened and his gaze lowered to her lips. Something flashed in his eyes. Desire? Intrigue?

A breath wedged in her throat, begging for release, but she couldn’t. Breathe. Move. Look away.

He didn’t either…

Voices drifted behind them. Bryce’s green eyes opened wider as he peered past her shoulder. He scrambled to his feet, leaving her crouched—legs numb, heart thundering, echoing in her ears.

What just happened?
She rose from the ground, slow and with great awkwardness, given the way blood surged through her limbs. There was a second there, when Bryce had stared at her mouth, that his eyes had gotten all droopy and defenseless, like he’d let her in, let her see him. And she could’ve sworn he’d almost kissed her, right there kneeling in the dirt.

But he couldn’t stand her…

“There you are, dear!” Elsie bustled over, full of the same aging elegance as Grace Kelly. “You have to meet everyone.” She hooked an arm through hers and dragged her over to a woman who was tying her cleats on the bench. “Avery, meet Paige. She’s been a friend of our family’s forever.”

Paige finished tying her shoe and stood. “Hey.” What she lacked in height, she made up for with a strong voice, fierce eyes, and a cascade of wavy, sun-streaked hair. She reminded Avery of one of those roller derby girls she’d seen on TV. Minus the stockiness.

“Nice to meet you, Paige,” she said, trying to reel in her brain from wandering back to the deep, murky pool of emotions Bryce had cast her into.

“You, too,” the woman said with a skeptical edge, like she was being polite but hadn’t yet decided if it really was nice.

“Avery’s our guest at the ranch for a few days. Isn’t that right, dear?” Elsie beamed.

“Right.” She pasted on a smile but couldn’t stop her eyes from executing a quick search for Bryce. He stood in the center of a group of his friends laughing like he didn’t have any trouble at all moving on from their little moment. Had they even had a moment? Or had she imagined it?

“What’s up, ladies?” A man approached them, tall and stocky, dressed in a Broncos jersey, jeans, and cowboy boots.

Interesting. She’d never seen anyone run the bases in cowboy boots.

“Shooter.” Elsie latched onto the guy’s arm and towed him closer. “This is Avery. She’s our guest at the ranch.” There was no mistaking the pride in her voice when she said the word “guest.”

“Bryce and Shooter have been friends since the third grade,” Elsie informed her.

He gave her hand a hearty shake, while his brown eyes made their way up and down her body. “Glad to meet you, Avery.” He winked. “Let me know if you need any tips out there tonight.”

Seriously? Tips from a man who was about to play baseball in cowboy boots? She gagged back a laugh. “Will do. Thanks.”

Elsie escorted her toward the group Bryce stood with. It got awkwardly silent when they approached, but she made herself focus on Elsie’s happy smile.

“Avery, this is Yates and Timmons.” She gestured to the two lanky men standing next to Bryce. “And this is my nephew Sawyer.” Elsie pointed out the third man, who had Bryce’s same look—the dark hair, the tanned skin, except that his eyes were blue instead of green. “Avery is staying at the ranch for a while,” the woman informed them, like it was the biggest news of the year.

“Great to meet you.” Sawyer gave Avery’s hand a hearty shake. “Where’re you from?” he asked, and she made the mistake of glancing at Bryce.

That tight look of annoyance was all she needed to see. He didn’t want her here. Didn’t want her talking to his friends and relatives. “Um.” She tried to recover from the intensity of Bryce’s glare. “I’m from Chicago,” she finally spit out, feeling a flush spread up her neck.

“I love Chicago.” Sawyer grinned and started to chat about the Cubs, but she couldn’t focus because Bryce turned and drifted away.

Unease knotted her stomach. He had every right to glare at her. What was she doing here, anyway? Invading Bryce’s life, pretending this was her community? When she’d heard the word “baseball” she’d gotten carried away, but now…

She scanned the crowd. They were a varied group of men and women, all different ages, dressed in different styles—a couple of hippies with dreads, a couple of gray-haired men decked out in the latest high-end sportswear. They were obviously a diverse group but all of them chatted and laughed and whacked each other on the backs like best friends.

Longing bloomed in her heart. These people had a deep connection, she could see it; the kind of family connection she’d longed for since Mom had died. But this was Bryce’s community, the Walker Mountain Ranch community, and no matter how badly she wanted to be part of it, she was an outsider. She had to be. Dad had sent her here to acquire the ranch, and she couldn’t forget that.

“Come on, Avery!” Paige squealed. “You’ve got this! Hit another triple!”

Bryce tried not to roll his eyes. Three innings. That was exactly how long it took for Avery to win over every single person on the Walker Mountain Ranch Misfits team. Hell, he’d been working on some of them going on ten years now and they still didn’t like him. But as she strutted out to home plate for her third at-bat, the women cheered her on like she was some female version of Derek Jeter, while the men checked out her ass, offering up high fives just to slow her down and get a better look.

Had to admit, it wasn’t a bad view. The black yoga pants she wore fit sleek and tight across her cinched waist and over that distinctly feminine curve of her hips. The fabric showcased the toned shape of her long legs. And don’t get him started on that well-worn Cubs shirt. Looked like it’d been washed so many times that it’d shrunk a few sizes, which wasn’t a bad thing, considering she had plenty to show off.

Avery made it to home plate and hunched into a perfect batter’s stance—hinged forward at the waist, elbows straight and wide. Couldn’t deny she had some mad skills. He’d never seen a woman hit a triple before, at least not in this town. She’d nailed it low and perfect, right down the third-base line and into the field. Their fielder had been too drunk to move fast, so she’d brought in three runs.

He glanced out at the pitcher, Rollins, one of the bartenders from the dive he used to hang out at. He seemed frozen in the spotlight of Avery’s glory. Bryce could relate. Shoot, just before the game, when she’d knelt so close, when he’d inhaled her citrus-y scent, he’d almost lost it, almost forgotten what her name was. She made it easy to forget, with that laugh, so carefree and easy. He could get wrapped up in that real easy. Too easy.

Out on the mound, Rollins finally got himself together enough to toss it in, slow and steady, right over home plate.

Smack!
Avery connected, hit a line drive right at the guy. The poor schmuck dove to the ground, arms over his head while the ball shot out into the field again.

All around him, the bench cleared. People high-fived and cheered her on.

“Woo hoo!”

“That’s it! Run, Avery!”

She sprinted for first, then second, then third, but her momentum didn’t stop. Somehow, the shortstop came up with the ball and threw it home.

She wasn’t gonna make it…

Just as the ball hit the catcher’s mitt Avery slid like a pro—legs outstretched, foot reaching for the base. She touched it just as the catcher stepped down.

“Safe!” The ump signaled. The bench cleared in a wild pandemonium. Hell, even he was on his feet, cheering and whooping it up like another Avery King groupie.