Hart of the Matter (A Love of the Game Novella) Read online

  At this point, it was doubtful…but she was still a fool.

  Chapter Eight

  Seven years later…

  Bailey’s relationship with her goddaughter and best friend continued to grow through hardship and happiness. Extreme situations made you appreciate every single moment and they’d had more than their share.

  She’d developed a system for avoiding Hart and filled every second they found themselves alone with fluff conversation, refusing to give him an opening to discuss anything real.

  There were times she knew he became frustrated with her but she didn’t care.

  Bailey might be somewhat fragile on the outside but she’d built a steel vault around her heart over the years. There finally came a day when she didn’t love him less, but she didn’t obsess as she once had.

  It was shitty consolation but it was something.

  He was braided into every vein in her body and there was nothing she could do to change that but she could choose to give all the love inside her to the woman and little girl who needed it.

  Until they didn’t need her anymore.

  When the Phoenix Suns went to the Finals, Bailey, Harley, and Lexie traveled to every game.

  The night the three of them sat in box seats in the Seattle arena and watched Hart’s team take the NBA Championship for the first time in Suns history was one of the proudest of her life.

  It was also one of the loneliest.

  The three of them screamed themselves hoarse from the box above the court. They’d contemplated being on the floor but worried about Lexie being trampled.

  Up here, they could sob openly without anyone seeing them. “They did it. They fucking did it, Harley.”

  “We knew they would. They were playing too good this year not to take it all the way.”

  “I’m going to head back to the hotel.” Bailey wiped her face and grabbed her bag. “It’s just weird during stuff like this. He should be able to celebrate without me being a shadow.”

  “Hey…”

  “No, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you and I’m so fucking proud.” She waved as she got on the elevator and knew Harley felt sorry for her.

  Returning to the hotel took a lot longer than she thought it would and halfway there, she made the decision to return to California a couple of days early. Quickly throwing her luggage together, she changed her flight, called a cab, and texted Harley from the airport before dawn.

  The return message was, “You’re running. I love you and I’m sorry.”

  Two hours later, she received a text from Hart. “We have to stop, Bailey.”

  She had no clue what that meant and didn’t answer him. That night, she was pouring herself a glass of wine when he texted her again. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Throwing the glass against the wall, she allowed herself to scream and rage for almost an hour before her inner self slapped the fuck out of her.

  You are way too old for this shit, girl.

  Breathing deeply, she cleaned up the mess, took a shower, and climbed into bed. For a long time, she stared at her ceiling and thought back over the twenty-five years she’d known Hart. It seemed that every memory, every conversation, was determined to replay itself.

  To the empty house, empty room, empty bed, she whispered, “Yes, Hart…I know you love me. I just wish it meant the same thing to both of us.”

  Bailey threw herself into work as never before and worked out constantly to relieve the tension, the frustration, and the heartache she kept praying would go away so she could have peace.

  It never fucking did.

  Finding excuses to avoid the two females she adored became difficult. Since they’d moved to Arizona, Bailey was accustomed to visiting them once a month.

  Watching Harley find happiness again was bittersweet. She desperately wanted to feel what it was like and every day, it seemed to slip further and further away.

  * * *

  Harley made Lexie call her Aunt Bailey about visiting. Never able to deny the little girl, she booked a flight. Only when she arrived at Hart’s house did she realize Lexie was out of town with her grandparents.

  “Harley, she begged me to come! I would have hung out with them in California!”

  “I needed a girls’ day and I’m not sorry. I’m embarrassed to go alone. I feel weird.”

  Laughing, she hugged her best friend tight and made appointments for the full treatment since Lexie wasn’t with them.

  The next morning, they pampered themselves as Harley filled her in on the changes in her life since the last time they’d seen one another.

  Bailey almost fell off her massage table. “You came out of your shell with dynamite. You look damn good. Happy.”

  Harley looked Bailey over carefully and she fidgeted under the perusal.

  “What?”

  “We’re almost twenty-six, Bailey. How long are you going to worship my brother from afar? When are you going to just jump him, damn it?” Harley, sweetheart, you just don’t understand. “I’m sorry, I know he’s blind. What can I do?”

  Bailey meant to say, “Nothing. I’m done trying. I’ve wasted enough time.”

  She didn’t say that.

  Instead, she looked the woman she loved more than she loved herself and said, “Disappear. Do not show up at the house tonight or tomorrow. Maybe not the next day either.”

  One more time…she would try.

  “I’m feeling the love, Bailey.”

  Swallowing hard, she gathered her thoughts. “You know why. When he sees you and me together, I’m Harley’s best friend. That soon leads to thinking Harley’s best friend is like my sister which quickly devolves into Bailey is another little sister.” She sighed.

  “Ultimately, the translation is I can’t fuck Bailey. I’m tired of him thinking of me like a sister, Harley. We’re not related and I want him so bad.” Bailey actually kicked her feet to hide how important this was to her from her friend.

  Harley burst out laughing. “Done, I’ll disappear for the weekend. Why don’t we all go dancing tonight first and you can work your salsa on him. You haven’t used that trick since we were fifteen and he ran off during our lessons never to return.”

  Bailey winked. “The boy couldn’t take it, maybe the man can.”

  Laughing, Harley nodded. “Let me know if you need me…send out a smoke signal or something. I’ll hang out at Dex and Beck’s place until they come back.”

  The masseurs came in and worked them into bliss for a full hour. Then it was off to the sauna, waxing, hair, fingers and toes. They went shopping after spending hours at the spa and Bailey armed herself for battle.

  In the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. “You can do this. Put on your don’t give a fuck persona and make him need.”

  By the time they returned to Hart’s place, they were so relaxed that he asked if they’d been drinking. Harley dropped beside her brother and Bailey pretended it was just like old times and followed suit on his other side.

  He smells so good I can’t stand it.

  They talked animatedly about their day and he seemed a little too tense for the topic. Harley held his hand and Bailey laid her head on his shoulder after battling with herself over something so small.

  “Harley, I think I’m finally getting accustomed to the waxing. It barely hurt this time. My legs and under my arms never hurts but waxing everything down there used to hurt like a motherfucker. Now, it’s kind of erotic. Warm and sticky with a little edge of pain.”

  Hart powered up from the couch and went to grab a drink.

  Harley kept her eyes on Bailey’s and called into the kitchen, “Hart, you’re taking us dancing tonight.” They heard a glass break followed by him muttering “Fuck…” and they killed themselves with silent laughter and fist bumps.

  Bailey had him rattled and she planned to use every weapon she possessed to shake him to the core. Her weapons weren’t to be trifled with.

  Chapter Nine

&nbs
p; Three hours later, Hart looked anywhere but at Bailey.

  When she came out of the guest room in a flirty black mini-skirt that barely covered her ass, a slinky gold tank top, and black stilettos…he’d almost passed the fuck out.

  Bailey was hysterical on the inside.

  She knew exactly how she looked. Every article of clothing was intended to highlight exactly what he was missing. Either he’d give her what she wanted or she’d torture him for fun.

  The choice was his.

  Seeing her tanned and sleek legs bared from her polished toes to the hem of the skirt, knowing now just how far her waxing went, made him glance down at his jeans and untucked Tommy Bahama shirt to make sure his appreciation wasn’t showing.

  She wore very little makeup and her long hair was loose except for two small sections in front that were pulled back with a clip. Hart was crazy about long hair.

  Harley came in the kitchen, dressed similarly but wearing flats, and they put on music while Hart checked messages on his Blackberry. She knew he watched her behind his shades as she worked Harley through a few simple moves.

  “I’m so much slower and less flexible than I used to be. Let’s see how it goes.” His sister pulled him out to his truck and she followed, feeling relaxed for the first time in a long time. “Bailey, you sit up front so I can stretch my leg.”

  With a shrug, Bailey climbed into the passenger seat as Hart held the door for her. When she settled in the high vehicle and didn’t immediately straighten her skirt, he tugged it down for her.

  “Thanks, Hart.” He mumbled and closed her door. “He’s running, Harley. I feel so powerful.”

  Harley snickered from the backseat and blanked her expression as her brother climbed in.

  They had a quick dinner at a little bistro not far from a Latin club she’d found out about from the techs at the spa. She specifically asked for hot music and they’d been happy to make suggestions.

  She and Harley kept their legs perfectly crossed during dinner as Regina taught them.

  Their demure behavior earned appreciative looks from every single male in the place. Eyes roved over their tone thighs and calves up to take in the cleavage both women had on display.

  At one point, she met Hart’s eyes and he looked annoyed. Lifting her brow in challenge, he glanced away.

  Step up, Hart. For once, acknowledge what you want.

  Several people recognized Hart, one of the local heroes who finally brought them the coveted Championship. He signed several autographs and took photos.

  A few men weren’t nearly as interested in basketball as they were in the two women with him. They tried a few cute lines, trying to hook up.

  The women introduced themselves politely, using their first names only.

  When one lifted Bailey’s hand and kissed it over the rail that divided the dining area from the bar, Hart snarled, “Dude, I’m sitting right here.”

  The fan stumbled out apologies and Hart refused to look at either of them. He paid the tab, helped them from their chairs, and placed his hand at their low backs to guide them from the restaurant.

  A man at the bar asked which one Hart was with and he snapped, “They are not available.”

  Outside, Bailey shook her finger at him. “Harley is your sister and you think of me the same way, so you could allow us to flirt, Hart. We spent time getting pretty and it would be nice for someone to appreciate it. As far as you’re concerned, we might as well be in flannel nightgowns.”

  With that, she walked away with her heels clicking to the club just ahead. She spoke to the bouncer whose eyes rolled down her body and found her very much up to snuff. He lifted the velvet rope to allow her in and she told him clearly that she was waiting for her brother and sister.

  The bouncer glanced up and his eyes went wide.

  “Hart Jamison…welcome. The VIP lounge is available if you like. Let us know if you need anything.” Hart inclined his head and gently took Bailey’s upper arm just inside the club.

  He pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “Did you just call me your brother?”

  Someone was irate to be called on his shit. How cute.

  “Hart, isn’t that how you see me, amante?” She winked and led Harley away to dance.

  * * *

  Watching Bailey walk away after hearing her call him something in Spanish had Hart’s dick hard as stone. The word was probably something bad but that didn’t make it sound any less erotic.

  The internal mantra he always had with himself when she was around started in his head. Sister. Sister. Sister.

  This time, there were a few addendums he’d never let himself listen to before. Like a sister. Harley’s friend, not actually a relative. Bailey…hot, curvy Bailey. I fucking want her.

  A waitress passed and he asked if she knew what amante meant.

  “It means lover, senor. May I take your order?” He told her in a daze they’d be in the VIP lounge and she nodded. “I’ll be up to check on you shortly.”

  Hart never did VIP because he hated looking entitled. Tonight, he was making a fucking exception. Something was different about Bailey and it was affecting him more strongly than anything else she’d ever done to catch his attention.

  She didn’t realize she had always had his attention and he was so damn tired of fighting. The summer before she got breasts ended the last peaceful year of his life. Shaking his head, Hart walked toward the dance floor.

  Lover, huh?

  The women he always made himself refer to as girls were shaking their asses and a sizable crowd of men was forming to watch them. They danced salsa to a song he didn’t recognize but he loved the beat.

  Bailey was born to dance and Harley had picked it up easily when they were kids. When they started attending high school dances at fourteen with Hart, Beck, and Dex…things had gotten difficult.

  The three boys never took either of them as their actual dates. They took girls who put out. It never failed that an hour into the night, they all wished they’d chosen Harley and Bailey.

  Unlike Hart and his friends, the girls never settled. Since they weren’t invited to go with the males they preferred, they went together. All night, they danced with everyone who asked but always returned to dance together. It had tortured the three friends to watch.

  Tonight they danced together as they always had.

  Hart noticed the pack was circling closer. Time to step in. They always used the three male friends as practice dummies when they wanted to learn a new dance. Hart had played that role most often.

  They owed their dancing ability to those practice sessions when they were kids. Going through the movements again and again until they got it.

  In college, Hart dated a girl from Brazil who expanded his arsenal. He idly wondered if Bailey would like his new skills. The song ended and they turned, saw him, and gravitated to his side. Guiding them upstairs, he watched as Harley stretched her leg out on the sofa and rubbed her hip.

  “You okay, Harpy?”

  “I might be overdoing it just a bit, Hartless. I’ll sit a couple out.” To Bailey, she said, “Don’t dance with that one guy who grabbed your ass on the way to the floor. He’s too pushy. The tall Latin guy with the white shirt looks safe, but I didn’t like the look of his friend.”

  “Harley, what are you talking about?” Hart sounded grouchy to his own ears.

  His sister shrugged. “Since we were kids, we’ve acted as lookout for one another; checking out who’s checking us out in the crowd. Bailey watched for me, I watched for her. It would determine what men we’d allow to dance with us if we chose to select partners other than each other. Women have to be careful, you know?”

  Sighing loudly, he insisted, “I’ll dance with Bailey. God only knows what losers are out there.”

  Bailey laughed loudly but it wasn’t a happy sound at all and Hart knew he’d hurt her feelings yet again. “I’m so flattered, Hart. Way to fall on your sword, bro.”

  Fuck…that wasn’t how he’
d meant it to sound.

  She dropped into a seat next to Harley, so much more of her beautiful leg exposed than he should be expected to endure as a heterosexual male.

  Leaning her head back on the couch, she closed her eyes and took Harley’s hand. Her voice was too quiet and he would have sworn she was fighting tears.

  “Do you remember when they loved to dance with us, Harley? They knew we’d keep them from being utterly humiliated with whatever slut du jour they happened to be dating. We made them into the men they are today, you know that right?”

  Harley smiled. “I remember the etiquette course we put them through. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, and so on. They grumbled the whole time. Man, do you know how many girls talked about them being such gentlemen? They got laid so much more because of us.”

  The words affected Hart deeply because they were true.

  “Ungrateful bastards,” Bailey said with a sad smile. Clearing her throat carefully, she told him cheerfully, “I’m happy to be the designated driver, Hart, if you want to drink. I have to stay sharp with all the wolves circling below.”

  Hart settled carefully into a chair across from them and processed their unusual moods. A waitress came in to take their order. Harley ordered Sprite with lime, Bailey ordered an orange juice, and Hart ordered two shots of tequila.

  They drank and listened to the music. The women talked for a while until the conversation returned to dancing.

  Another round of drinks arrived.

  “Are you sure you can’t hit the floor with me again?” His sister shook her head and said she needed a break. “I’m going out. Hart, hang with Harley. I’m not fourteen or unfamiliar with men. I can handle myself just fine.”

  With that, she swirled from the room, her skirt flowing up and giving a fleeting glimpse of tiny gold lace panties.

  “Bailey seems…strange tonight,” he said when the object of his desire was gone.

  “Define strange, Hart. She seems normal to me. She wants you, you don’t want her, and so she’ll go find a substitute like she always does.”