The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi
Abbi
Phil: Don’t get too comfortable in Boston, Abbi. You’ll be back soon.
Bile rises in my throat as the image accompanying Phil’s message comes through. It’s me, slightly drunk, bending over his desk in a black lace thong. I’m glancing over my shoulder, giving him some serious smolder, my eyes begging for him to fuck me.
God, how fucking thirsty was I?
Disgust mixes with my anguish as I glare at the photo. Was I really that desperate for attention? For…love? A shiver wracks down my spine as the threat behind Phil’s words registers in my mind. Don’t get too comfortable. Is he planning on sharing these images? On blowing up the life I’m trying to rebuild in Boston after he decimated the one I created in New Jersey?
Helplessness that infuriates me rolls through my body. I drop my head back against the wall before sliding down to sit on the bench in the hallway of The Meadows. This is the last place I should be having any kind of emotional meltdown. There are too many eyes to witness my panic, too many mouths to talk shit.
Tears burn behind my eyelids and I blink furiously. I drag in a breath and count to four before I release it. I’m fine. Everything is fine.
Straighten your spine. Lift your head.
A new pang cuts through my chest as Gran’s voice floats through my mind. I press the heel of my hand against my breastbone until the sharpness dulls into an ache. God, I miss her. Building a new life without her in my corner is a lot harder than I thought. I close my eyes and draw in another slow inhale, trying to calm the nerves that buzz through my limbs.
I’m having a good week. Everything is fine. No one here knows about the photos. No one here even knows about Phil. Well, except for Luca but—
“What are you doing out here?” It’s as if my thinking of him conjured his presence.
I look up, knowing he can read the tsunami of emotions bleeding through my expression.
Luca’s blue eyes sharpen, concerned. “Hey, you okay?”
Fuck. The last thing I want is for Luca Pandatelli to pity me. In fact, I don’t know if my cracked pride can handle it. I clear my throat and smooth out my expression. “I’m fine, Pandatelli.” I stand and straighten my spine. Hardening my eyes, I lift my head and stare straight at him. “Everything is fine.”
Luca frowns. His molars click together as he clenches his jaw. I know he doesn’t believe me. “Look, Abbi, if you need to talk or—”
“I don’t.” The thought of him discovering my secret causes me to lash out. “And if I did, I wouldn’t talk to you.”
Luca jerks back in surprise before he widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. “Seriously? We’re not even going to be civil?”
“I’m being incredibly civil,” I say, keeping my tone even. I clasp my hands behind my back to hide the tremble of my fingers. “We work together. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” he sneers, his concern giving way to anger.
I let out a slow exhale, relieved. Anger I understand; anger is something I can work with. “You’re just another player,” I remind him, my intent two-fold. He’s both an athlete and a player of women and he knows it. “And I don’t like games.”
His eyes narrow into slits, confusion and frustration warring in their depths. I know he’s recalling our first conversation and trying to understand the meaning behind my words. I scoop my purse up off the bench, refusing to help him.
Seeing Luca moments after reading Phil’s message, looking at that image, has messed with my head. Right now, I feel too exposed, too vulnerable, especially in front of him. The last thing I want to do is give Luca more ammunition to mess with me, to interfere with my new position. Wasn’t sleeping with him bad enough? Wasn’t confiding in him about things even worse?
“What are you talking about?” he demands, shuffling toward me.
I take a step back and his eyes darken. No, darken isn’t right. They smolder, angry and sexy and brimming with heat. He reaches for me, but I shake off his touch, both annoyed and intrigued by his passionate response.
Ugh. What is wrong with me? This, right here, is why I always end up in over my head. Because as much as my mind is screaming at me to back up, my body desperately wants to edge closer.
“Don’t say shit you’re not willing to back up,” he growls.
I open my mouth, my head spinning for a good comeback when his phone rings.
He drops his gaze, giving me a momentary reprieve from their intensity, and swears. He answers it immediately. “Jenni, I—”
I snort and shake my head, moving away from him. “Case in point,” I spit out before turning on my heel and walking down the hall. I keep my head high as I pass into the stairwell. It isn’t until I’m sitting in my car, warming my hands by the heat vents, that a sob rips from my mouth.
Luca Pandatelli could ruin me if I let him. Good thing I know better this time.
* * *
“Happy hour commences!”Chloe holds up her wine glass and I clink mine against it.
We’re at Jolene’s, a popular after-work watering hole, celebrating my first week of work.
I take a sip of the bold red, swirling the glass before placing it down on the high top. “How was your week?”
Chloe widens her eyes. “Seriously? How was your week? You’re officially the Head of Youth Outreach for Boston Hawks Hockey! Come on, girl, tell me all about it. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you this week.”
“Stop,” I say, holding out a hand. Chloe’s living her best life as an investigative journalist. She lucked out when her company transferred her to Boston but she frequently travels back to the head office in New York. “How’d your piece on Yemen go?”
“It’s done.” She flashes me a grin and sips her wine. “Janie was pleased with it.”
“Good.”
“Now that that’s out of the way…” She grips my arm, her voice softening. “How was your week? How are you doing?”
I sigh, knowing my best friend is just looking out for me. “It was good. I love the scope of the work and the team is fantastic. Everyone is really eager to launch more initiatives and the budget is generous. I’m excited to dive in.”
“Excellent.” She squeezes my arm before picking up her wine glass. “And your new place?”
“Perfect! It was really nice of Austin to help me find such an affordable apartment in a fantastic location.”
“It wasn’t a problem.” Chloe flicks her wrist. “Torsten’s retired now but he’s more than happy to help out a Hawks employee when he can. Even though he’s back in Norway, he and his wife, Rielle, still own a bunch of investment properties here in the city.”
“Well, I love it. Being near the waterfront reminds me of Hoboken so it wasn’t too big of a change.”
“Good.” Chloe beams. “You know, you’re not too far from—”
I hold up my hand, cutting her off. I remember exactly where Luca’s apartment is and I hate that it’s within walking distance to mine.
Chloe sighs. A few moments pass in silence but I know my best friend. She’s just angling for the best way to bring him up again. I’m about to tell her that I already saw him, twice, when she blurts out, “Luca.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine, Chlo. I ran into him—”
“Hey, Chlo.” His warm voice rolls over my back, peppering it with goosebumps.
I freeze in my seat, dread and a flicker of excitement I ignore, swirling low in my stomach. What the hell? I’ve done a pretty good job avoiding Luca, knowing my self-preservation depends on it, for most of the week. While I can’t avoid him forever, I needed some space to figure out my approach during my transition to Boston.
It hasn’t changed. Professional, polite, detached.
“Abbi,” he greets me.
I turn, keeping my face blank. Luca Pandatelli is standing next to the high-top table looking like Brad Pitt in Troy. Delectable, sexy, and so damn fierce. I bite the corner of my mouth to keep from sighing. Strong shoulders pull the material of his sweater and a stubble I can recall scraping against my inner thighs taunts me. His eyes swirl like a summer storm, daring me to get lost in them.
I frown as I note the tiredness that clings to his face, deepening the lines in his forehead. His conversation with management from my first day flickers through my mind. Why does he need time off? Did something happen?
I don’t care. I remind myself of this very important fact and clear my throat. “Hey, Pandatelli.”
Across from me, I feel Chloe’s eyes swing in my direction but I keep my gaze trained on Luca. In fact, I’m so focused on not studying how irritatingly good-looking he is to notice the petite blonde until she sidles up to his side. “I got us a table in the back,” she chirps.
Now, my eyes redirect their study to her. She’s beautiful in one of those effortless ways. Sun-kissed hair in the middle of February, wide blue eyes, a waist the same diameter as my thigh. She looks like an eager-eyed college kid. A wave of hurt clogs my throat but I swallow it down, letting this scenario remind me why I can’t keep dating athletes. I just end up hurt and I’m tired of handing over my control like some flighty girl when I’m striving to be an independent woman.
I cling to being polite and detached. “Enjoy your drinks.” I dismiss him, turning back to Chloe’s bewildered expression.
“Uh, it’s good to see you, Panda,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice hard. He raps his knuckles against our table once but I ignore him until I see his back recede in my peripheral vision.
“What the hell, Abs?” Chloe asks.
I pick up my wine glass and take a long drink, wetting my dry throat. “What?”
Her eyebrows nearly touch her hairline. “You guys are…intense.”
I snort. “No, we’re not. Luca Pandatelli and I are nothing.”
She sighs. “Look, I’m sorry things—”
I hold up my hand to cut her off and toss a declaration out into the universe. “I’m done with athletes, Chloe. If I was smarter, I’d probably swear off all men. But Luca and I now work for the same franchise and I’ve learned firsthand that you don’t play where you work. Besides, Luca and I never had a chance in hell. What we had was a weekend. Two really great nights filled with smoking hot sex.” I shrug. “From now on, I’m not mixing my work life and my personal life. I’m just…being professional.”
Chloe lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “So, you’re open to dating? Just not anyone who works for the Hawks?”
I shrug. “I’m always open to dating. Just…keeping it casual. Sex, no strings. Nights, no days.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “And how is this any different than the shit you’ve been doing since after college?” Her forehead wrinkles. “You haven’t dated a man for real since Kent.”
Just hearing his name causes a ripple of unease to roll through me. Kent Ritters was my college boyfriend. He was the starting pitcher at Columbia University, an All-American type with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, and the man I thought I was going to marry. After my father, he’s the first man to break my heart in what proved to be a series of failed relationships, by impregnating one of my sorority sisters our senior year.
I polish off my wine and shoot my friend a grateful look when she orders us another round.
“I can’t keep doing this, Chlo.”
“Doing what?”
“Dating athletes, or screwing them, whatever, and thinking something real is going to come from it.”
“I agree.”
“You do?”
She nods, tugging on the end of her hair thoughtfully. “You don’t date them, Abbi. You don’t really date at all. But”—her eyes glitter—“what if you did? What if you went on, real, actual dates, with men who are out of the sports world? Just regular guys with regular jobs for a regular dinner.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sounds boring.”
“No”—she shakes her head—“it sounds safe. And you’re not attracted to safe.”
I snort.
“But, after the year you had, safe might just be what you need.”
I thank the server for my second glass of wine and take a sip. Glancing around the room, my eyes snag on Luca. He’s sitting in the back corner, grinning, as the blonde beside him laughs softly.
Ugh. He’s so arrogant, sitting there like everyone should bow at his feet. I bet the blonde does.
He looks up and his eyes latch onto mine. His jawline tightens. I narrow my gaze but he doesn’t look away, if anything, his stare hardens and his eyes blaze.
Luca’s look alone causes my body to tingle. Images of that weekend flare to life in my mind. The way his hands felt on my skin, the way he made me laugh even as my world started to crumble.
Luca Pandatelli rolled into my life like a hurricane. He knocked me off-balance, drenched me with hopeful ideas, and left me devastated when he was done. His rejection, not a surprise given my track record with men, hurt more than it should have. That’s the part that bothers me most. That I trusted him, almost implicitly, when I don’t trust. I wanted to give him a real chance when I usually make a man work for it.
I turn away from him. “Maybe you’re right,” I say.
“Of course, I’m right.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “Leave it to me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Trust me, I do. You’re my best friend and you’re in a new city. My city. The least I can do is introduce you to new people. If you don’t want to think of it as dating, then don’t. It’s just you, a hot, single, independent woman, meeting other hot, single, boring men in a new place for a meal.”
I laugh and nod. “All right. One date.”
“Three.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Chlo.”
“You’re right. This is a new outlook. Three dates. Just dinner.”
In the corner of my eye, I see the blonde tap a glass against Luca’s in a cheers. I look away before I have to witness them do anything gross, like kiss. Anger beads in my bloodstream and my eyes burn, which is stupid because I don’t care what Luca does. I’d be fooling myself if I thought him to be a saint these past six months. Just because no man in a twenty-mile radius wanted to come near me didn’t mean he was going without. Just because Gran’s death ripped me wide open and I gave off emotional train-wreck vibes to everyone I talked to—both men and women—doesn’t mean Luca’s been sitting at home crying into bowls of chocolate chip mint ice cream.
“Okay,” I say to Chloe, meaning it this time. “But let’s just start with one and take it from there.”
I’m no longer in New Jersey. Fortunately, my shameful reputation hasn’t followed me here. Besides, maybe Chloe’s right. Maybe a boring, regular guy with a safe and steady job is just what I need.
Lord knows the alternative hasn’t caused anything but heartache for far too long.