Meant For Her

  Another little slice. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Shrugging, he took another swig of beer. “You didn’t know.”

  “Oliver told me about your bike,” she said, moving closer to the balcony railing. “I wish you would have told me about it when it happened.”

  “What’s there to tell? Some kids or vandals tore the seat up, scratched it with a key. Oliver and the police handled it, not that they’re likely to find whoever did it.”

  “Evan, if there’s some reason you felt it necessary to keep me out of the loop—”

  “There was no loop,” he interrupted with a frown. “You’re making this out to be more dramatic than it was.”

  She kept her tone level, though she wanted to shout at him. “As the property manager here, I need to know these things. Vandalism, no matter how ‘little a deal’ it is, can affect our insurance rates. Having police cruisers in the parking lot makes the tenants nervous, so we have to be proactive in spreading the word about what happened. We want everyone to be more vigilant. There are little kids here.”

  His frown eased. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of all that. I just didn’t want to bother you or stress you out.”

  “Is that why you called Cole to come and pick you up rather than just coming up here?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You know you could have either borrowed my car or I would have given you a ride.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t want to stress you with it. I thought I was being considerate.”

  She studied him in silence for a moment, but couldn’t read his expression. Maybe he really believed that by not including her on things he considered stressful, he was somehow protecting her. If she was really stretching it, she might even be able to convince herself that his overall lack of communicating with her was for that warped reason.

  But she didn’t believe that.

  “Evan, I deserve more from you when it comes to our relationship,” she said at last. “I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out now.”

  The frown returned. “I’m not shutting you out.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He got to his feet. “Look, I apologized for not mentioning the motorcycle incident. What more do you want from me?”

  Did she really have to spell it out for him? Since he stood there staring at her, she supposed she did.

  “How about the occasional phone call letting me know how you’re doing while you’re on the road?”

  He shifted and looked away. “Okay.”

  “You could also consider stopping by when you walk the dogs to see if Leo and I would like to join you, maybe actually leave the building and go out in public with me again.”

  She watched his color rise and wondered if she had managed to piss him off. When he gave a quick nod, she realized she’d only embarrassed him.

  That was fine. He deserved that much.

  She wouldn’t push him further right then, though. Progress was progress, even when it occasionally took a backslide.

  Nodding, she said, “Thank you, Evan.”

  He looked over at her. She figured he’d tell her she was welcome. His expression made her face fall.

  “Sierra, you deserve more than I’m offering you,” he said. “Maybe—”

  “It’s enough for now, Evan,” she interrupted, not wanting him to finish the thought. “I know there are obstacles we still have to overcome. I’ve known that from the moment we met. But I’ve also felt in my heart from that first moment that we would overcome them.”

  His brows drew together. “You’re not always right about those instincts you think you have, you know.”

  “No one’s perfect,” she agreed. “But I know you, and I know my own heart.”

  Holding her gaze, he said, “I just hope you’re not expecting too much of either.”

  Chapter 41

  The shoot at Z Studios took place the next day. It was the first one Sierra had worked since Camille’s return from vacation. She dreaded the confrontation to come, even though she knew it had to happen. It was especially difficult because Bastian hadn’t fired Camille despite all of the evidence against her.

  She made certain to arrive early, beating Camille there. When the other woman spotted Sierra waiting beside the front door, she hesitated briefly before lifting her chin and striding up to the door to unlock it.

  “Good morning, Camille,” she said.

  Camille muttered something under her breath that Sierra didn’t catch. She pulled the front door open, not bothering to hold it for Sierra, and started turning on lights.

  “I thought we could talk before Bastian gets here,” Sierra said.

  “Unlike some people, I’ve got a lot of work to do around here,” Camille replied without looking at her. “I don’t have time to chit-chat.”

  “I’ll walk with you and talk, then.”

  Sierra did just that as Camille walked briskly toward the break room and coffeepot. Bastian’s assistant wasn’t usually so jerky in her movements. Maybe Sierra had thrown her off with this approach. She hoped so.

  “I wanted to find out why you tricked me on the timing of the Brinkman shoot and stole my ideas,” she said.

  Issuing a brittle laugh, Camille shook her head and propped the break room door open. “You’re crazy. I didn’t do those things, which is what I told Bastian when he asked me about it.”

  Sierra saw Camille’s hand tremble as she reached for the canister of coffee. The other woman’s face was paler than usual, too. She looked ill.

  “Camille, Bastian said he didn’t send that text, and you had access to his phone during the time it was sent. I also know that you screen his e-mail. It would have been easy enough for you to intercept my message. The fact that you used the exact wording I used in the e-mail when you pitched the ideas to Bastian proves it.”

  “It’s just as likely that someone else did those things,” Camille said as she added coffee to the machine. Grounds spilled onto the counter due to her shaking hand. “I’m not the only one with access to Bastian’s phone. He leaves it on his desk half the day.”

  “But you’re the only one with access to Bastian’s e-mail.”

  “And you’re the only one insisting that you sent that message to him in the first place. You could have asked someone here at the studio to listen in on the Brinkman shoot and send you the list of the ideas I gave Bastian. You could have doctored the date and time of the message in your sent items folder when you forwarded it to Bastian as proof.”

  She put air quotes around the word “proof.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Sierra said. Was it? “And you know Bastian keeps a closed set. I wouldn’t have been able to—”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past a manipulative bitch like you,” Camille interrupted as she filled the coffee carafe with water. It made a loud clanking noise as it connected with the side of the faucet, accentuating Camille’s unsteady grip.

  “Camille, I offered to help you. I was willing to go out on a limb to jumpstart your career. You stabbed me in the back and cost me thousands of dollars in pay.”

  Camille shook her head, avoiding her gaze. “I jumpstarted my own damn career. It’s my name on those Brinkman images. So which end of this stick do you think it’s better to be holding right now?”

  There was no reasoning with her, Sierra realized. In the end, it was her word against Camille’s, and Bastian had opted to keep Camille on staff. The other woman was right. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted without Sierra’s help by acting with complete disregard for anyone but herself.

  As she left the break room so she could start prepping for the shoot, she thought again of Hannah and Zoe and their statements about her being too nice. Evan had once indicated the same thing. Clearly, it had bitten her in the ass this time.

  Just how often would that trait come back to haunt her?

  * * *

  Evan texted Sierra while she was on her shoot to invite her to lunch the next day. What he really wanted to do was co
me home after the game that night and have sex with her, but after how he’d realized he’d been treating her, he knew that wasn’t the best path to take.

  Since she texted him back with a yes, he got up the next day and walked the dogs before his early morning workout, then showered and ate something light for breakfast. He had to be at the stadium by two for the night game, so he figured he’d take Sierra somewhere within walking distance for their date.

  At quarter to noon, he knocked on her door. A sudden flash of nerves hit him. It was ridiculous, considering they’d now known each other for a couple of months and experienced a great deal together in that time, but there was no denying it.

  When she opened the door and he saw those dimples, he knew why.

  She’d dressed in a sage green sleeveless top and a fitted floral-patterned skirt that reached about two inches above her knees. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, a couple of the curls now the same shade of purple they’d been when they’d first met. Her toenails, revealed by her strappy sandals, were the same shade. She wore the jewelry he’d given her in Savannah. As far as he knew, she’d never taken the necklace off.

  “Well, you’re quite a beauty,” he said, returning her smile. “I’ll be the envy of everyone at McDonald’s.”

  She laughed. “Oh, no. That’ll be all me. The ladies will definitely be wondering who the big spender is.”

  Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her. It started chaste, then moved on to something more before he broke it off. He took a moment to enjoy the glazed look lingering in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to take you out,” he said. “I know I should have asked you sooner.”

  She smiled again. “You’re forgiven…assuming lunch doesn’t make me vomit for twenty-four hours tomorrow.”

  His eyebrow rose as she joined him in the hallway and they headed to the elevator. “Your standards are quite low, Ms. Stratton,” he said. “Practical, but low. Hopefully I can meet them.”

  “Let’s shoot for exceeding them, shall we?”

  “Oh, the pressure.”

  Their banter continued as they reached the lobby and headed outside. He found it surprisingly less stressful than he’d thought, going out with her after everything he’d told her while they were in Savannah. Only now did he realize how much that weighed into how he’d been treating her. He acknowledged that he was self-conscious about everything he’d shared with her. He hadn’t ever given details about his past with one of his dates. In fact, no one else—friends, family, or otherwise—knew as much about him as Sierra did.

  That gave her more power than she knew. The truth was, he felt vulnerable. Guys weren’t supposed to feel that way.

  Yet he knew that if there was anyone with whom he could share himself without fear of judgment or condemnation, it was her. Sierra’s core nature was to nurture and protect, not hurt. He’d known that from the beginning. He regretted not considering it sooner.

  They walked to the Flying Biscuit Café up the street. Since it was Saturday, it wasn’t as busy at lunch as it was during the week. Still, a significant crowd filled the restaurant when they arrived. It was about fifteen minutes later before they were seated with their meals and a couple of sweet teas in front of them.

  “So, you guys had a hard time against Florida yesterday,” she said as she lifted half of her fried green tomato BLT.

  He’d opted for a turkey burger with bacon and cheddar. Lifting the top bun and adding ketchup, he nodded. “They kicked our ass last night.”

  “Mmhmm. They’re pitching you inside.”

  He paused as he lifted the burger. “What?’

  “You’ve been connecting more with outside pitches lately,” she said, “especially on the far corner. Last night, they stuck to the inside. The one hit you got, they slipped up and hit the outside corner.”

  He already knew all of that. Hearing it from her, however, sent a bolt of lust right through him. Knowing she cared enough about what he did that she watched the games and paid attention to the terminology turned him on more than he’d ever imagined.

  “What else did you notice?” he asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Well, Uhre should have turned that double play in the second inning. He tends to get ahead of himself in the play, not think things through.”

  He listened to her as they ate, amazed at how much insight she had. Most of it, he thought, probably came from the announcers during the game. If she was paying attention to what they said, she’d be pretty knowledgeable. Surely that was how she knew so much about so many of the players on the team.

  After a while, it occurred to him that they’d been talking about him and his job throughout the meal. Once again, he fought back guilt.

  “So, how did things go at the shoot yesterday?” he asked.

  Her posture stiffened, but she gave a shrug. “The shoot went well,” she said, stabbing a potato with her fork. “But Camille didn’t own up to what she’d done on the Brinkman shoot.”

  He frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  “There isn’t anything I can do. I had thought she’d regret what she’d done and come clean, maybe see if she could redeem herself. I guess I was wrong.”

  He thought again of her instincts about people. He’d told her the other day that she wasn’t always going to be right. He’d meant it specifically in regards to him, since she seemed convinced that he had more to offer her in their relationship than he was currently providing. Today, as she’d talked with him about his team, he’d wondered uncomfortably if he’d been wrong. Could she really be that spot-on?

  Hearing about Camille was something of a relief. Still, he knew he should offer her some form of support.

  “Sierra?”

  Evan glanced over at the speaker as he approached. The guy was in his mid-to-late twenties with dark hair and dark eyes. When Sierra stood to give the guy a hug, Evan gauged him at around six feet tall. The guy was slim, but he had some muscle tone, like he jogged or did rock climbing.

  “Hi, Nathaniel,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.”

  “You, too,” Nathaniel said. “Thanks for the convo the other night. You were absolutely right.”

  “Oh, good,” she said. “I’m glad it helped.”

  Nathaniel turned and glanced at Evan, giving him a smile. “This is one special gal,” he said. “Don’t let her slip away like I did.”

  Unable to return the smile, Evan just said, “Sure.”

  “Good to see you, Sierra,” Nathaniel said, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”

  “Sounds good,” Sierra said.

  Once they were alone, Evan caught her gaze. “Is that anyone I should know about?”

  “Just someone I dated a while ago,” she said before she sipped her tea. “We met at Callanwolde. He’s a brilliant photographer.”

  “He seems to know a lot about you for a date.”

  She got a thoughtful look in her eye. “We went on a few dates, did a lot of talking. We didn’t sleep together or anything. I wasn’t interested in him in that way.”

  Eating another bite of his burger, he considered that. “Why is he still in touch with you?”

  Her gaze moved over to Nathaniel, who had walked over to a table with another young woman. “He’s a friend and he needed some relationship advice.”

  “One of your exes called you for relationship advice?”

  “I don’t know that having a few dates constitutes an ‘ex,’” she said. “But, yes. And it appears my advice paid off. He and the girl he’s with look pretty happy to me.”

  Evan considered that as he finished his meal. If an ex without nearly as much invested in the relationship as he had reached out to Sierra after they’d stopped dating, just how in deep was he?

  Chapter 42

  Sierra noticed an improvement in Evan’s game between their lunch date and the three weeks leading up to the end of August. Over that span, he had a
twelve-game hitting streak and batted over four hundred. The way he was going, there was no way he wouldn’t earn a Gold Glove for his almost flawless fielding.

  He’d also made an effort in their relationship. While he was on the road, he texted or called her every day. When he was home, they walked the dogs together and ate occasional meals together, sometimes going out and sometimes just staying home. They didn’t always have sex, and she suspected that it was a conscious decision on his part when they didn’t. She could only appreciate the message that he was trying to convey…that she meant more to him than just being a sexual partner.

  As soon as the first of September rolled around, however, he sank into a slump. She watched each game of the home stand leading into Labor Day weekend on her television and saw how his focus deteriorated.

  He withdrew from her, too. Just when she thought they’d reached a significant turning point in their relationship, he stopped coming by her apartment or calling. He hadn’t been in touch at all for the past two days. Something was up, and she knew it.

  On September fourth, Evan went oh-for-four. It was an afternoon game, the last day of Atlanta’s home stand before they once again headed to Philly. Sierra had heard from her aunt, so she knew Evan intended to come home that evening, despite the fact that the team was traveling that afternoon for another week-long road trip starting in Philly. According to her aunt, he’d asked for and been granted this personal time under the condition that he paid for the flight in the morning and wasn’t late to the stadium the next day.

  While she wanted to hope he’d spend some time with her, she knew that wasn’t in his plans. She’d followed a hunch the day before and done a little research.

  Today was the first anniversary of his mother’s death.

  He got home from the game around five-thirty. She shut off her laptop, where she’d been killing time editing photos, and moved into her bedroom so she could hear him. Unlike usual, he didn’t greet the dogs. She heard their nails clacking excitedly on the hardwood floors, but he was oddly silent.