Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) (24 page)

Morgan

T
he sun rides high and strong overhead like a bucking bronco at the rodeo, drilling its rays in my eyes until they sting. The scent of a freshly mowed lawn swims through the air like the finest perfume, and my hands instinctually want to strangle a bat for the hell of it.

“You got this, man.” Cruise pats me on the back as we watch Garrison’s baseball team, the Gladiators
,
connect ball to bat just before my walk-on tryout. I fessed up to Cruise like some whipped pussy regarding how I feel about Ally, and what I was going to do to up my odds of staying. I guess I kind of wanted the moral support. The only other alternative was Mom, and, with it being just days away from her wedding, I didn’t want to bother her.

The guys are hitting the shit out of the ball and the pitcher is blowing some serious smoke. These dudes are beyond good.

“Yeah,” I say doubtfully. “I should have probably warmed up. But I got this.”

I watch as guy after guy launches the ball across the field in long, easy strides, as if the bat had somehow morphed into a missile launcher.

On second thought, I’m not so sure
I got this
. In fact, those balls may as well be flying to Oregon, the way they’re knocking them out of the park. Maybe I’m not that great. Maybe the team back home was mediocre at best, and I’ve been happily clueless all along.

Fuck. Looks like I’m about to be laughed off the field. There goes the chance of having some weepy-eyed happily ever after with Ally.

My phone buzzes.

It’s Paige.

My entire body freezes, and I stare at the phone for an inordinate amount of time.

“I’d better take this.” I pick up and walk toward the chain-link fence. “Hello?”

“Morgan?” Paige’s voice chirps from the other end of the line.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” A million scenarios run through my mind. Maybe she changed her mind and had the test anyway?

“I had the baby.”

My heart sinks like a cinder block.

“You what?” My throat constricts at the idea, cutting off my vocal cords right along with my balls. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I thought I felt a cramp, and it turned out it was baby time.”

My blood runs cold. She knew I wanted to be there for the birth, at least in the next room.

“He’s six weeks early. They had to put him in the incubator, but they say he’ll be fine. I guess stuff like this happens all the time.”

“I’ll get on the next flight out,” I offer.

The coach blows his whistle in my direction and waves me over.

Shit.

“No,” she protests. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve already had both him and Clint tested. We should know on Saturday,” she says that last part quietly. I’m pretty sure it’s not me she’s rooting for.

“Saturday.” I nod stupidly into the phone.

“Jordan!” The coach roars my name out like a warning. “You want this or not?”

“The baby,” I whisper. “So it’s a boy, huh?”

“A beautiful boy. He’s got a gorgeous head of dark hair. It’s hard to believe he’s mine.” Paige is a redhead whose entire body glows like a warning light. Clint’s got dark brown hair so it could go either way. “Take care, okay?” she whispers, as if she’s trying to soften the blow. “I’ll call you as soon as I know the results.”

“Got it. Take care of yourself and the baby.” A boy. That could be my boy, my
son
.

I hand the phone to Cruise and jog over to home plate, my head spinning with the paternal possibilities.

The baby is here.

I pick up a bat and give a few solid swings to warm up. The pitcher launches one in my direction, and I jump out of the way.

Shit. It was good. I just overreacted.

If I have a baby in Oregon it’s going to make it near impossible for me to relocate to Massachusetts. And I wouldn’t dream of asking Ally to move to Oregon. She has Ruby. She needs to be near her sweet little girl.

I miss the next ball, nothing but air. Almost threw my back out trying to connect with that one.

Fuck.

The pitcher eyes the coach as if to ask if this is for real.

“It’s for real, asshole,” I whisper.

The ball comes at me like a comet and I swing—then like a dream I hear that lovely sound every baseball player wants to hear as the ball and bat connect. I watch as the ball flies twice as far as I’ve seen it go all afternoon. It sails into the reaches of the blue expanse until it’s nothing but a speck on the horizon.

“Good show!” Cruise calls out while a few of the guys offer a spontaneous round of applause.

It would have been a home run—just like Ally and me.

The Elton House Bed and Breakfast is playing host to Mom’s nuptial rehearsal. The lawn is rolling and lush, decorated with flower petals the girls picked up this afternoon. It looks like someone dumped a box of Trix cereal all the way down to the altar if you ask me, but pretty nonetheless. My stomach’s been going off for the last two hours and I’ve been seeing food in everything because I haven’t eaten jack shit since I got that phone call.

I hook my arm through Mom’s and walk her down the aisle, as I’ve been prone to do with the exception of the time or two she eloped, but my eyes migrate over to Ally. She’s sitting off to the side, her long creamy legs crossed over one another. She’s so damn beautiful. I could never expect her to sit around and wait for me while I finish up school.

Kendall and Cruise stand under the lattice arch where the wedding coordinator belts out demands like some sexed-up dominatrix.

I walk Mom over to Andrew, who looks more than enamored by my mother in her svelte black dress. She looks more “merry widow” and less “blushing bride” but who knows? This could be a twofer—the guy looks far more aged than any of her other suitors.

“Okay!” The wedding coordinator claps. “It’s a wrap.”

I head over to Ally and we take a walk in the direction of a weeping willow.

“That was the second time I received applause today.” I dot her lips with a kiss. Ally smells like a rose, like an entire floral boutique, and I always want to remember her like this. “How come you don’t clap for me in bed?” I go for humor but miss by a mile and end up sounding like some depressed teenage girl who wonders why no one likes her.

“Did someone clap for you in bed today?” She pulls me in by the back of the neck and licks the periphery of my lips as a token of her lewd affection. “You said that was the second time.”

Crap.

“Did I say that?” Perfect. First I have a son in another state and now I almost blow the surprise I was hoping to knock her socks off with—my baseball tryout. Not that I know I’m the father—not that I know if I have anything to knock her socks off with. The coach said he’d review some online footage I sent over and get back to me. Looks like I’m all about the questions today.

“
Hey
.” She hooks me tenderly by the chin and turns me toward her. “Everything okay? You seem kind of lost.”

“You’re with me. How can I not be okay?” I glance over her shoulder at the brimming buffet. It’s finally starting to smell like food out here and rumor has it there’s a steak with my name on it. “I got the call today.” My eyes fill with tears as soon as I say it, and I blink them back. Shit. The last thing I want to do is cry like a schoolgirl.

“The call?” She looks perplexed for a moment. Her pale eyes squint at me just before her perfect bowtie mouth opens as the realization sets in. “Oh, God. What did she say?” Ally pulls me deeper into the property, away from prying ears.

“She said she’ll know on Saturday.” There. It felt good to lance the wound and get it out. I would have gone insane trying to keep this from Ally. “She had the baby early. She said he’s doing fine.”

“A boy.” She mouths the words as she twirls her fingers through my hair. There’s so much sorrow on her face, clouded with a touch of joy. That, in a nutshell, is exactly how I feel. “Guess what, Jordan?”

“What?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“I’m not leaving your side once on Saturday. When that phone rings, I’ll be right there with you.”

I pull her in and wrap my arms around her so tightly it feels as if I’m about to push through.

I want to tell her I never want her to leave my side, but I don’t. The truth is the entire girth of the country could clog the distance between us soon. And I’m not quite sure I can stop it from happening.

Can I?

After the festivities, I head over to the club to set up the bar and mark the cards to ensure I win every fucking hand tonight. I think I’ve seasoned the bad boys of Massachusetts enough into believing I’m a mediocre player at best. It’s time to make a few corrections.

I asked Ally to catch a ride over with Cruise and Kendall so we could drive home together but really that flat tire and that dead rodent on her car have me more than a little on edge, and I don’t want her alone. It’s just too many mishaps in too short a span. Either God hates that Honda or there’s a jealous rage brewing in the background that’s about to turn explosive.

The lights are on down the hall in the blue room—the Poker Room. I had the bulbs in each room replaced to match its mood—red for sex on heels, and blue for don’t look so down when I steal all of your fucking money.

Great. I must have forgotten to flip the switch off last night. I’m pretty sure that qualifies Cal to yank some more cash out of my ass.

The faint scent of perfume startles my senses. Nice. I’d think maybe it was left over from last night, but I’m starting to get hopeful that I’ll find Ally ready and willing to give me a lucky hand.

I widen the door and a blonde in a trench coat spins on her bright-red heels—Blair.

She drops her coat. Her pale, bony body is naked as the day she was born.

“You’re welcome,” she says before lunging at me and diving her tongue straight down my throat.

11

LOVERS AND FIGHTERS

Ally

T
he lavender sky
sparkles with a million shining stars. It looks fake, like a piece of felt laid out with too much glitter poured over it. By the time we arrive at Rock Bottom, a crowd has already congested the entrance. Business is booming, but it won’t be for long—not with fall semester hanging over our heads like some scholastic guillotine. If we’re lucky maybe we’ll have this kind of business on the weekends, but then again the sororities and fraternities like to hold their own parties.

“Are you still upset?” Kendall slings her arm over my shoulder as we fight to make our way inside.

“What’s she upset about?” Cruise asks, genuinely interested.

I’m thankful Kendall hasn’t clued him in yet. That’s the thing with having girlfriends who are practically already married to their other half. It makes you wonder if any of your secrets are ever really safe.

“School’s coming up so fast.” I nod toward the club. “Morgan can’t stay.” I shake my head. “We haven’t really talked about it.” Who needs loose-lipped girlfriends when my own tongue betrays me? What’s next? Confessing to Cruise the fact I had debilitating cramps last week?

His lips twitch to the side. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. When two people care about each other as much as you and Morgan, things have a way of working themselves out.”

I expel a lungful of air. It was as if I were holding my breath and Cruise said the exact words I needed to hear to breathe again.

“You’re right.” I say it a little louder than necessary. “Things do have a way of working themselves out.” They had better, for my sanity’s sake.

We hit the entrance and Cal taps me on the arm. “Where’s that knuckleheaded boyfriend of yours?”

“Here, somewhere. And, by the way, the only knucklehead around here is you for not hatching this brilliant plan yourself.” I give an impish grin as I make my way past him. The place is pumping tonight with wall-to-wall bodies. I swear we’re breaking twelve different fire codes. Although, if we go down for something of the illegal variety, safety issues will be the least of our worries, what with the gambling ring, the quasi house of prostitution, the underage drinking as evidenced with Molly—tragically the list goes on and on. But still, something feels different about tonight. You can feel a whole new energy. It’s as if the tail end of summer has encouraged everyone in this room to let loose.

“Great news!” A female voice rides high behind me, and I turn to find Lauren with two drinks in hand.

“What’s that?” I gawk at the chocolate-looking vial with whipped cream ready to float off the top.

Kendall comes up behind her and holds up yet another whipped concoction.

“Blow jobs all around!” She raises a glass to me.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, accepting the potion with its obscene moniker.

“Do we need an occasion to get down and dirty?” Kendall hoots. “Tonight everybody parties!”

“That’s right, ladies.” Lauren wrinkles her nose. “And this will be the only time I swallow.” She hikes her drink into the air. “Actually”—she gives me a look that spells trouble—“I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” Since when does Lauren dole out surprises?

“That’s right. I felt really bad about stranding you this summer and essentially leaving you without a place of your own.” She makes a face. “So…I went out and got you an off-campus apartment just east of sorority row. No worries about driving to all the hot parties, all you’ll have to do is carry those pretty little high heels.” She gives a quick wink.

“Lauren!” I squeal and give her a hug as best as I can without spilling the emissions of my glass. “You didn’t have to do this. You’re way too nice to me.”

“I had to.” She gives a long blink. “It came up so fast, I knew it’d be gone by afternoon so I snagged it. All I did was pay the first and last. And if you ever have a tough time with rent we can work something out. Besides, how often in life do you get to choose your neighbors?”

“Neighbors?” I try to contain the urge to jump but can’t seem to do it.

“Okay,” Lauren shouts over the music, trying to calm me. “Now we have a serious decision to make.” She holds the indelicately named drink out in front of her. “Do we use our hands? Or mouths?”

Kendall and I laugh and knock into one another in the process.

The cool liquid splashes over the front of my dress in one quick spurt.

“Oh shit.”

Lauren hacks out a laugh. “Looks like you’re the victim of a little premature ejaculation!”

Lauren and Kendall crack up like they’ve never laughed before. I guess there’s nothing a little crude humor and an apartment to call my own can’t fix because for the first time in weeks I’m in a celebratory mood. In fact, I wouldn’t mind a little climax myself. Speaking of which. Where is my own personal ejaculation station? Surely he’s ready and willing to please. Plus, I can’t wait to share the news that we finally got our own place!

Then it hits me, fast and furious: there is no we.

Morgan Jordan will be gone in a week.

The women’s restroom leaves a lot to be desired, three stalls that by the end of the night are the most sought-after seats in the house. But it’s still early and there’s nary a line so I walk in and inspect the white frothy stain on the front of my dress.

“Disgusting,” I say, plucking at the mess just above my stomach. I snatch a paper towel and embed the cream into the fabric. “Gross.” I let out a hard sigh.

“You are, aren’t you?” Blair pops up in the mirror like a ghost and begins adjusting the collar on her preppy dress. She’s wearing a single strand of pearls around her neck and a plaid headband in her neatly flat-ironed hair. Her fiscally sound fashion sense makes me want to stick my finger down my throat.

I wish I could say I’m not jealous of Blair—that her daddy’s money doesn’t make me wish I had a familial monetary IV injected into my bank account. In truth, a part of me is very much envious.

My new plan of action—the
only
plan of action—is to ignore her. After all, I did get to strip off her clothes and send her in a virtual mosh pit filled with horny frat boys. Rumor has it she made a lot more than sixteen dollars that night.

Her bitchy BFF, Erica, pops out of the stall and appraises me as if I were a parasite.

Lovely. Maybe walking around all night with a giant stain on the front of my dress isn’t that bad. In fact, accessorizing with real semen would be more pleasurable than occupying air space with Blair and her ditzy sidekick.

“So, I just had this wild sexual fantasy play out,” Blair coos to her partner in fictitious sexual crime while trying to entice me into listening in on their tawdry conversation. “I mean, there wasn’t much to it—just a trench coat and heels—but he didn’t mind. He says he likes it simple because the girl he’s with always tries too hard. She feels the need to overcompensate by wearing things she can’t afford. Pity because she cheapens everything she touches.”

My cheeks burn with heat.

“All right, Blair.” I pivot on my heels. “Obviously you weren’t with Morgan. You’re just trying to make me think you were so you can cause another misunderstanding like you did with Kendall and Cruise. Morgan wouldn’t cheat on me. Not tonight, and for damn sure, not with you.”

Her mouth opens as she feigns surprise. I can feel her hatred pulsating off my body as she rides her gaze over me.

“Oh, Ally, you flatter yourself.” She gives a snippy tight-lipped smile that makes me want to wring her neck. “I’m not trying to break anybody up. You see, Morgan and I have had this thing going ever since he came into town. Only we don’t kiss and tell. You want to know what he calls it?”

My brain wants to fire off some smartass comeback, but I’m too pissed to think straight.

“Oh, I’d love to know.” I toss my hair back as obnoxious as possible. “Then I can compare it to what he calls you in private.” Not that he’s ever referenced her as anything other than what her mother felt moved to call her. Morgan is too much of a gentleman. Ironically, I distinctly remember Rutger referring to her as Horse Face. I guess money doesn’t buy you manners.

She leans in, her eyes on fire with a vicious level of joy.

“He calls me his
dirty little secret
.” Blair bites down on a blooming grin.

My body freezes, my adrenaline spikes—the next thing I know my hand connects with her cheek in a violent slap.

“You bitch!” Blair nurses her wound for a moment with her hair swept across her face.

Her hands spring to my shoulders. Blair pushes me into the sink and slams my head against the mirror.

“Shit,” I yell as a sharp pain travels through my spine.

Blair snatches me by the scalp. She yanks me down only to introduce my face to her knee.

I let out a guttural moan as she shoves me against the wall.

“Ask him,” she shouts. “Ask your precious little boyfriend whose body he was pressed against,
loving
with that animal tongue of his, just before the club opened?”

“What?” I glance up at her before gaining my footing.

“That’s right, Ally. It was just me and him, right there over the poker table, and it felt real good.” She holds herself as if reliving a memory. “But I don’t have to tell you. You already know how good he can make a girl feel. Or didn’t you get over your little problem? He told me all about your inability to—”

I don’t wait for her to finish. I charge her like a bull ready and willing to inflict some serious bodily injury. I don’t know how she did it, but she hit every sexual detail right on the head. As much as I’d like to cry bullshit, I can’t.

Maybe in the end the joke is on me. Maybe in the end, Morgan Jordan is nothing but a player, someone who barreled through Carrington one summer looking for a good time wherever he could get it.

I latch onto Blair and her brassy tresses with the skunk roots coming in, and knock her against the wall. A group of girls wander into the bathroom and scream as they witness the bruising.

“Say you didn’t sleep with him.” I grind the words through my teeth.

She tries to dislodge my grip, but I won’t relent.

“Erica!” she howls.

“Say it!” I shake her so hard I swear her hair is going to fall out in my hands like a bad Halloween wig.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Ally. I was
with
him!” she shrills.

I jostle her body as we tug and wrestle until we slam into an open stall.

“That’s it,” I mutter, maneuvering her head toward the water-filled basin.

Blair shoots off a few wild kicks my way like a mule in heat. Her fists pummel against my chest, but I’ll gladly accept the bruising in exchange for what’s coming next. I slam her head into the toilet seat and secure my knee between her shoulder blades.

“Take it all back, and I’ll let go.” My heart thrashes against my chest. Blair Lancaster has gotten under my skin for the very last fucking time.

She looks up with a wicked sense of determination. “We did it just before the club opened.” Her lips curve with a devious smile. “The last thing he said was, thank God you’re not boring like Ally.”

“Crap.” It takes all of my strength to submerge her successfully. I hold her under, a good few seconds, before flushing the toilet with my elbow.