Page 6 of Playing for Keeps
Except, the nickname wasn’t a joke to Justin. Every time someone called him Heartbreaker, he remembered his first kiss with Caroline and how it short-circuited his synapses.
Justin made his way to the pick-up counter and grabbed the two drinks. The barista who’d shouted his baseball nickname glanced at him with a smile.
Nope. Not interested. Sure, she was pretty, but she was probably a few years younger and…
Did the other excuses matter? She wasn’t the one. That was the only point that mattered.
Justin made it back to the table with their drinks just as Garrett took his seat, wearing a goofy grin.
“Ha-ha. That was hilarious,” Justin deadpanned.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Garrett reached for his cup and took a big swig.
“You know, everyone would forget that nickname if you stopped using it.”
“No way. You’ll always be Heartbreaker. What are you doing after our shift?”
“Probably catching up on reports,” Justin said, pulling the warm pastry from the bag.
“That’s no fun.”
Garrett always put off his reports until the last minute and binged through them. He’d also been on the force longer and knew what he was doing. Garrett always knew he wanted to be a police officer. This line of work was Justin’s Plan B after it was time to say goodbye to Plan A.
“Fun? What’s that?” Justin took a bite of the squishy donut and fought against the urge to hum at the deliciousness.
“The reports will be waiting for you tomorrow. Come have dinner with Cindy and me.”
“I’d rather finish the reports so they’re not hanging over my head. I hate them.”
A year ago, he’d despised press conferences and interviews with the fire of a thousand suns, so writing reports was almost an upgrade.
“Okay, this is a problem. You started talking about reports and now you have those lines.” Garrett pointed to the spot between his eyebrows. “If you don’t stop that, you’re going to get wrinkles and mess up the moneymaker.”
“My face is not a moneymaker. That was my right arm.”
Pitching for the Miami Marlins had been the answer to every prayer. It got him out of Redemption Ridge, paid all the bills and then some, and let himlive like a king for nearly ten years. Most athletes would give anything to keep playing well into their forties, but Justin was content to slowly fade from the high-profile scene at thirty-two.
“Hey, we don’t talk about that. You’re living a small-town dream now. Speaking of Christmas?—”
“No one said anything about Christmas,” Justin pointed out.
“I did. Pay attention. Christmas season is upon us, and you need to buckle up because things are about to get interesting.”
Justin’s Christmas was not going to get interesting. In fact, it needed to be the most boring, mundane season of his life if he was going to get through it without turning into the grump with frown lines Garrett was talking about.
Christmas was about as depressing as it could get. Actually, the season only reminded him that he didn’t have anyone to spend it with. Returning to Redemption Ridge only highlighted that fact.
Even as a kid, Christmas was the worst. He’d never had a mom, and his dad spent the holiday like every other day—drinking and looking for a fight.
Fun times.
“I mean it, man. Get ready to work security at a ton of town events, which will give you plenty of opportunities to find a date. Women love the uniform.”
“A date for what? I don’t need a date.”
Justin had made it all of three months back home without causing a stir, and he wasn’t ready to come out of hiding just yet. Dating was not on the itinerary. Well, dating anyone exceptherwasn’t on his list of things to do, and he hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to her again.
Justin had no problem standing in the middle of a stadium filled with people, but the thought of talking to Caroline Taylor made him want to crawl under a rock and lick his wounds.
