Double Contact Page 6

Lark reaches for the bottle of lotion on her nightstand. “Yeah.”

  “I’ve gotta go back to New York,” I blurt.

  She glances at me, rubbing the scent of vanilla over her arms and hands. “You want me to come with you?”

  “Can you, I mean, with your training schedule and don’t you have some matches coming up?”

  “Yeah, I suppose I should stick to my plan. How long will you be gone?”

  I ease up from the bed. “Long enough to pack up my place and put it on the market. I need to talk to my accountant, then see about getting a place here.”

  “This feels so crazy. Are you sure about all this?”

  I walk into the bathroom and flip on the light. “You offered me a drawer. I know our lives might seem worlds apart, but I never forgot you, Lark. So yeah, I’m sure about all of it.”

  “I sing in the shower,” she announces.

  I peek my head around the corner with my toothbrush in hand. “I know.”

  “I do yoga in the living room when it rains.”

  “Which is hardly ever, and I know.” Watching Lark do yoga on the deck and in her backyard has become one of my favorite pastimes.

  “I bake every Wednesday morning. A lot. Banana bread, chocolate chip muffins . . . what’s your favorite pastry?”

  I finish brushing my teeth and rinse. My shoulder rests on the threshold. “You’ve been keeping a secret from me. I’ve been here for two weeks and I haven’t seen a single loaf of banana bread.”

  “Well, there hasn’t really been too much time for baking,” she teases.

  “What are you going to bake for me, babe?”

  “I’m addicted to that show, Pioneer Woman. I’m considering making some cinnamon rolls tomorrow for breakfast.”

  “But tomorrow’s Sunday. Not Wednesday.”

  “I’m unpredictable like that.”

  “I’m a little messy,” I tell her. “Not a total slob, sometimes I leave dirty dishes in the sink. I have a pair of shoes by every door.” I tug my boxer briefs over my hips. “I will always put the toilet lid down. I do laundry every Friday night unless there’s a Stingers game.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I can live with all that.”

  “And I promise to not overstay my welcome,” I sit beside her on the bed. “Because I really want this to work between us.”

  “I’ll even help you look for a place here.”

  I shift to kiss her. “I’ll be dragging you to a lot of open houses.”

  “I’m up for the challenge.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lark

  Nine months later

  “Happy anniversary, babe,” Brenner singsongs and places a stack of pancakes in front of me.

  “Anniversaries call for pancakes, huh?”

  “And fresh fruit,” he adds and places a plate piled with sliced pineapple, strawberries, and raspberries in front of me.

  “Which anniversary is this?”

  Brenner loves any reason to celebrate. We find so many reasons to be grateful. I guess we’re lucky that we have so much to be happy about—he makes me so happy.

  “Well, four years ago, you and I had our very first breakfast together. You had pancakes and I had an omelet.” He takes a seat across from me and sips his coffee. His espresso eyes rake over me as he runs his tongue across his lips.

  Things have been going well, even though I’ll have to wait until next year to get my hands on Olympic gold. Tokyo, along with the rest of the world, has been postponed. I’m looking at the silver lining—more time to practice and polish up my techniques.

  We’re at Brenner’s place in Hermosa Beach. After the Olympics postponement, he insisted that I stay with him. He didn’t want me to be alone. Not to mention, his place needed some major redecorating. The location is perfect, the seventies look is not. We had a lot of fun designing it together. Now it has a relaxed boho beachy vibe.

  If you want to test the bounds of a new relationship, take on a redesign project. We navigated through that successfully. Which led us to discover a shared passion for stalking real estate properties online.

  We found that we both love Malibu properties. One in particular . . . one of Frank Gehry’s earliest properties—The Tin House.

  “I love that day,” I tell him and shovel a bite of the buttermilk fluffy goodness into my mouth.

  He winks. “Me too. So, what are your plans for the day?”

  “Afternoon workout, then I’ll probably go for a swim and work on my tan. What about you?”

  “Well, I’ve got some exciting news to share,” he drawls out.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense. What is it?”

  “Stingers called me with a job offer . . . general manager.”

  “What? That’s amazing.”

  “Apparently, I was on the shortlist for the job.” He pops a pineapple chunk into his mouth.

  “Are you taking it?”

  Brenner nods over the rim of his coffee mug. “If the contract is right, I’m definitely excited about the opportunity.”

  “You will be the best general manager ever.”

  “I’ll give it all I’ve got, that’s for sure.”

  We stare at one another in-between bites of the delicious food. Everything with him feels right. I knew it the moment he came back into my life. Our worlds collided, and something snapped into place.

  Brenner was the piece of my life that I’d been missing the most. Someone to share my experiences with—good and bad. He supports me and my dreams.

  I hope I’ve helped him as much as he’s done for me. I might not know his entire life story, but I know him, the person underneath. The man who gave me some life-changing advice.

  The pull between the two of us is magnetic and it’s more powerful now.

  “Since you cooked, I’ll clean up. It was all delicious, thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Brenner kisses me and I nearly melt.

  I might have thought I’d never find a man who made me feel this special, but life threw Brenner my way, and I’m so grateful.

  Brenner leaves the room to take a call while I busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen. I stare out the window, over the pool and down to the beach. It really is a gorgeous day outside.

  For some odd reason, my grandma pops into my mind. Usually, it’s a Dolly Parton song or the smell of sugar or figs that reminds me of her.

  I think she would have liked Brenner. Sadness washes over me that she’ll never get to meet him.

  If they’d met, Grandma would force food on Brenner even when he wasn’t hungry. And Grandpa would sneak Brenner off to his study and watch baseball. An avid sports watcher—horse racing, sailing, fencing—if it was on, he was watching. Ultimately, I think that’s why he ended up liking beach volleyball so much.

  But baseball was his absolute favorite.

  The thought makes me smile and I put all the sadness back into its assigned space. I’m folding the kitchen towels when I hear Brenner call me from outside.

  “Hey, Lark, come here, would you?”

  “Be right there,” I call out.

  I walk outside to the pool deck. The sun feels good on my skin.

  “Where are you?”

  “Down here on the beach.”

  I look over the railing and see about two dozen yellow and blue beach balls in the shape of a heart in the sand.

  “What’s all this?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I love you, Lark.”

  We haven’t said those words to one another yet.

  “You sure?”

  “Never been more certain of anything in my life,” he responds and climbs up the steps toward me.

  He reaches for me, sliding his hand down my arm and taking my hand in his. Touching him, being this close, it’s overwhelming. Life threw me a curveball when I stumbled into Brenner’s path. A simple talk with a man I barely knew had a profound effect on the direction of my life.

  “Uh, Lark.” His brown eyes bore into mine.


  “I love you too,” I confess.

  “Yeah?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I might have known for a while now.”

  Brenner wraps his arms around me. “I love you,” he murmurs, his lips on the corner of my mouth. “So damn much it hurts.”

  “And I love you.” I kiss him.

  Love. Something I didn’t think existed. But I’m here to tell you it’s real.

  He grips me by the back of my thighs and picks me up. My legs wrap around his waist.

  “Time to celebrate.”

  I laugh and kiss him. “Any excuse to mark an occasion.”

  “I’m going to mark you,” he hisses.

  We don’t make it to the bedroom. The rug in the living room is as far as we get. Brenner frees me of my clothes. His fingers draw patterns up and down my stomach and over my breasts.

  He flips me onto my knees and his fingertips whisper down my spine, and then lower, until he slips one long digit inside me.

  “Oh fuck,” he growls. “You’re as wet as the ocean just feet from our doorstep. Fuck, I bet you taste like it too.”

  “Why don’t you let your mouth find out,” I tease, over my shoulder.

  He gives another growl and slips another finger inside me. “Baby, I will worship your pussy in ways you never imagined.”

  “You can put your mouth where your promises are anytime now, baby.”

  “Hmm, perhaps another time,” he teases, sliding his cock through my wetness.

  “Tease.”

  His arm tightens around my waist as he layers his body over mine. Early spasms of my orgasm swim through my legs, backflip into my stomach, and stroke fast into my ribs.

  He thrusts inside me. “I’m going to enjoy fucking the smartass out of you.”

  “Not a chance,” I bite back.

  Brenner pumps into me, his fingers swirl around my clit as he kisses his way up my neck.

  “I fucking love you,” he snarls.

  “Tell me again.”

  “Lark,” he groans. “Oh, I fucking . . . fuck. I love you.”

  “Yeah, you do.” I barely get the words out because my orgasm takes hold, sending me up . . . up and over the cliff of ecstasy.

  A heartbeat later, he comes with a quiet roar as his teeth gnash into my shoulder. We still, holding one another, shaking, and panting. I want this moment to last forever.

  “I love you too, Brenner,” I whisper.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brenner

  Five months later

  I’m wrapping up the end of the workday when I hear Lark mumbling curses under her breath through the window. Baseball is back, finally, and I happily accepted the job with the Stingers.

  “Babe, now that this is behind us.”

  “What’s behind us?” I call out from the kitchen as I pull a beer from the fridge.

  “This little idea of yours to plant a garden at home. I mean, things are back to normal, so . . .”

  I walk outside onto the deck and survey the scene. Two planter boxes are overgrown with tomatoes and other vegetables I can’t quite identify. Did we plant basil? Dill? I have no idea.

  “Like, what even is this?” she laughs at the pathetic display of weeds.

  The problem isn’t the idea. It’s schematics. Not enough land. Zero land. I need land.

  “This is an eyesore, Brenner,” she says, then bends to pull a few weeds. “I mean, honestly, I only agreed to the garden because it was something for you to do to pass the time.”

  “Well, it was a good idea at the time.”

  She levels me with a stare. “At the time, yes. But now . . . ?”

  “It’s an eyesore.”

  “Yes, so do something about it, please.” She cocks her head, sending shiny brown waves falling over her shoulder.

  I drop to my knee. “Okay, let’s move. You and me . . . Malibu. We’ll get a bigger place with space for a huge garden. We’ll have flowers, herbs, and vegetables in raised beds . . . constructed from reclaimed scaffolding.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Is the house—our house—on the market?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it. What do you say?”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. We spend almost every night together. There’s no reason to have two homes. I’m ready for this.”

  I’ve never been more ready for something. Lark comes first.

  She bends down to meet my eyes. “Yes, let’s buy our dream home.” Her hands press to my cheeks, then she smashes her lips to mine.

  “Hell yeah,” I shout and pump my fist into the air.

  Lark laughs and spins away from me. I grasp her wrist.

  “I’m still on my knee.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “So, get up, or do you need help, old man?”

  “On my knee, hello . . .” My eyes pop wide, and my heart races. I pull the cushion cut diamond from my pocket. Oval in shape. Vintage in design. “Babe, marry me. I love you. There’s no one I’d rather eat pancakes with, garden with, or build a life with. You’re the one.”

  “Attempt to garden with,” she cries out.

  “I love you,” I tell her and rise to my feet.

  “I love you, too.” Her lips land on mine.

  When she breaks the kiss, we’re both breathless. I slip the rose gold ring on her finger. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. How happy I will make you, Lark.”

  “You already have.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lark

  Post Olympics . . .

  Tokyo was amazing. Holly and I won that gold medal. It’s a dream come true.

  I’m an Olympic champion.

  Because of the Stingers’ summer schedule, Brenner couldn’t be in Tokyo with me, but he watched every match on TV and we talked every chance we got.

  After the whirlwind time in Tokyo, I landed deals with Rox Volleyball apparel and Estée Lauder. There was little time off after the post-Olympics press tour. Being a spokesmodel is hard freaking work.

  I haven’t decided if I want to train for another Olympics. I haven’t decided if I want to defend my gold medal or go out on top. But what else would I do?

  Holly wants to go for it again and I can’t blame her.

  But right now, I’m having all kinds of déjà vu. I’m sipping a tequila and tonic at a table near the window while my fiancé works the room. It’s the Stingers annual Grand Slam Weekend—a weekend of non-stop parties and events.

  Brenner roped me into getting involved with the charity date auction tonight. All the eligible Stingers players will be auctioned off for a good cause. All I have to do is introduce one of the players.

  “Well, if it isn’t Lark Saddler, Olympic champion.”

  I know that voice.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see Alec Norris. “Hi, Alec.”

  He takes the seat across from me and smiles. “So you’re here. This must be the reason I won the Home Run contest today.”

  My eyes want to roll, but I don’t allow him the satisfaction. “Still feeding your superstitions?”

  “And I see you’ve still got your sass along with a gold medal. Didn’t realize you were that ambitious.” He studies me, expectantly.

  “Well, once I stopped sleeping with you, I found my self-confidence and trained like a winner.”

  Alec snickers and motions to the server for a drink. “How about you bid on me tonight? For old times’ sake?”

  And here’s the problem . . . Brenner and I haven’t told anyone or made an official announcement about our engagement because we didn’t want distractions from the media while I was training for the Olympics. Nor have we been seen in public as a couple. We’ve managed to keep things low key thanks to the quarantine.

  “What if I told you that I’m in a relationship?”

  The server drops off his whiskey neat. “That’s impossible. Because if you were on a date, I wouldn’t have won the competition today. You are still my good luck charm. Come to our
game tomorrow night and wear my jersey.”

  “No way.”

  “Come on, Lark. Tomorrow we have a three-game home opener against the River Bandits, just like when we first met. It’s fate that you’re here.”

  Persistent one, isn’t he?

  He snaps his fingers in front of a woman with long dark hair. A curtain of black shields her face. “When you come back around, bring a tray of those mini salmon cakes with the lemon aioli, would ya?”

  “I don’t work here.” She tosses her dark hair over her shoulder. “And don’t ever snap your fingers at me.”

  “Oh my gawd, Sadie?” My voice screeches a little.

  “Lark, holy shit. What are you doing here?”

  I shoot up out of my seat to hug Sadie. “I uh . . . they asked me to take part in the charity auction. I get to walk out with a baseball hottie.”

  “Me too. Hope it’s not this guy.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alec interrupts. “Sadie. You’re Sadie the Slayer, the MMA fighter chick.”

  My gaze narrows at Alec. “She’s a boxer, you fool.”

  “Sorry,” he drawls out. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty. You’re always so—”

  “Bloody and bruised,” she finishes for him. “Yeah, I clean up pretty well.”

  I met Sadie while Holly and I were training in Venice Beach. We worked out at the same gym. She’s a freaking badass.

  Sadie maneuvers around Alec and takes the empty seat next to me.

  Alec stands. “Guess I’ll be on my way. Think about what I said, Lark.”

  I wave him off. “The answer is no. It will always be no.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He smirks and walks toward the appetizer station.

  “Who’s the jerk?” She nods in his direction.

  “Guess you don’t watch a lot of baseball.”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Not if I can help it. I prefer football guys or fighters.”

  “I used to, uh . . . he and I were once.”

  She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “No need to explain. We’ve all been with a jerk or two. In my case,” she blows out a harsh breath, “they’re all jerks.”

  My eyes meet Brenner’s molten stare across the room. “Not all of them.”

  He winks at me and I feel my entire body warm with heat.

  Sadie grabs a glass of champagne from the passing server. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”