Dirty Play (The Ferrari Family Book 1) Page 6

  I didn’t think that was ridiculous at all. I had searched every prospective date since Malcolm online so I avoided having a repeat of what had happened with him. The only reason I hadn’t done so with Nick was obvious, and in any case, I’d done work on him.

  But still!

  This was real? This was still real. And that compliment…oh, shit…

  “When I saw you at Fresno State, I tried to get your attention, but I just got one brief gaze; do you remember that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  But the simple reply understated that moment. I remembered it as vividly and clearly as anything else from that day. You didn’t forget when someone looked at you like that, especially when hundreds of students could have seen him gawking at me. The confidence and somewhat shamelessness that he had acted with was too compelling not to remember.

  “Well, besides that, I could not get a hold of you. Your assistant, Rachel, she was great, but I felt it was slightly ridiculous to ask her for your number. So, I decided that the best way to do it was to go a little old school.”

  “Flowers and an anonymous letter?”

  I’d meant to say that romantically, but it probably came across a little accusatory.

  “How else would you have me do it?” Nick said, his words gentle but the implication clear—he did things how he saw fit. “I wanted to go old school for a woman that I felt had a little bit of an old school soul to her.”

  Oh, he was so kind.

  But he was also so wrong.

  There was nothing old school about a single mother with an insane ex-boyfriend, one that would gladly beat the shit out of Nick regardless of his athletic standing. Fortunately, Nick had plenty of size on him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to put anything past Malcolm.

  “Well, that’s very kind and flattering of you to say,” I said. “But don’t get too carried away. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I fully admit that. Which is why I wanted to meet you for dinner.”

  OK, he’s smooth. Credit where credit is due.

  “So tell me about yourself, Izzy. What brings you to the Bay Area? Where did you grow up?”

  Probably need to keep some of the juicier details to the end. No point in scaring him off yet.

  “Well, I grew up in Utah, actually. Salt Lake City. One of three kids. I was always driven to set an example for my siblings, and when I graduated from Utah State, I got a job working in a marketing firm in Los Angeles. That drive has probably cost me a few fun nights out, but it also got me to where I am today. I moved here for work…yeah, for work.”

  And to avoid Malcolm. But, you know, that can wait to be explained later.

  “And what about you?” I said, both very curious to know more than just the athlete and to get the subject off of me. “And don’t give me SportsCenter answers. I want real answers.”

  Nick’s gentle laugh was enough to put me at ease. It made me feel like I could settle down and not be seen as this weird object of desire. As flattering as this all was, I still needed to ground myself at some point.

  “Well, I’ve always grown up in the Bay Area, actually. My family hails from Italy, but my parents and their siblings all were born here. I’ve always considered myself something of a homebody, so when I got drafted by the Giants, that was like a dream come true—and one that ensured my early days of minor league ball were sane.”

  “Italy,” I said. “Interesting. I guess it makes sense with the Ferrari last name.”

  “Yep. Grandfather started out in Vegas, actually, moved to the Bay Area maybe…forty, fifty years ago? He always tells us he wanted to open a wine business, but we think there’s something more to it. He won’t ever say anything, though.”

  There were two things that were both true. One, I still couldn’t believe I was sitting across the table from Nick Ferrari and still wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it toward the end of dinner. Two, he had my full attention and had me very curious to see what more would come.

  Conversation gradually shifted into more general topics as I slowly eased into a sense of rhythm and relaxation. I never got to the point that I would on a normal first date, but it wasn’t like I didn’t settle in a little bit. Nick just had a personality that made it feel like you could let your guard down around him; I wasn’t capable of doing that even with my son, but Nick sure made it come as close as possible.

  That was, until the dessert came around and we started to wind down the evening.

  “Am I allowed to say something honest this early?” Nick said, but I knew full well he’d ask the question no matter what I said.

  “Of course.”

  He cleared his throat, put his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. God, that put me in a fucking tizzy. It wasn’t fair how a man that handsome could get a woman to just act a certain way around him.

  “As an athlete, you meet a lot of people. Sometimes, those people say they want to grow up to be pro athletes, but you look at them, and you think ‘you won’t make it.’ Similarly, a lot of people in dating say they want to be in a relationship or married, but there’s nothing about them that makes you think they will.”

  He smirked. Again, the way he made me tingle…

  “You, on the other hand, I say this in the nicest way possible, I can’t believe you’re single. Unless you have some surprises.”

  He laughed at his own joke, but I felt like this was the spot to drop any charades of me being a normal, perfect woman. We’d had a good dinner, but now, at least, if Nick wanted nothing to do with me, we could part at the ideal point in the meal.

  “You do have some surprises,” he said, his smile gradually fading.

  “Nick, if you’re going to say something honest, then I’m going to return the favor,” I said. Here goes nothing. Better to cut something off like this sooner rather than later. “I’m a single mother. The dad is out of the picture, long story, but the reason I have such drive and focus is that I have a three-year-old boy that is my world. My parents help me raise him, but he comes first in everything. And you need to know that I am not some perfect woman; I am a single mother who is devoted fully and entirely to making her son happy. Full stop. Nothing else matters.”

  I couldn’t exactly say that I went on a ton of first dates, but the ones I did go on, this was usually where the buck and everything else stopped. The one guy who had gone on a second date with me had said he was fine with it, but I knew from his reaction he was lying. I waited for Nick to have a similar reaction and mentally prepared myself for the worst.

  But instead, Nick just shrugged, and his nonchalance with my revelation seemed quite genuine.

  “That sounds great,” he said. “I guess it’s just proof you’re a great mother already.”

  “What?” I said, unsure that he was actually saying what I thought he was saying. “You…”

  “Of course I want kids of my own,” he said. “Don’t worry; we’ll get to that.”

  From just about any other guy, that would have sounded downright creepy, maybe a little disturbing, certainly not attractive. And yet, Nick just had this psychological grip on me without ever having laid a hand on me…

  “But I think it’s a terrible decision to mentally exclude women from the list of potential suitors just because they have a kid. Obviously, it could be a deal-breaker, but you being a high-level professional could be a deal-breaker too. I try to keep an open mind about things.”

  This guy is way too good to be true. There has to be another shoe that drops somewhere in here. But so far, the only thing dropping was my jaw in disbelief.

  “Well, we’ll see if you still say that on the next date,” I said.

  Nick’s smile widened, and I could only facepalm in reaction to the slip-up I had just had. I guessed we were going to go on a second date. I wasn’t sure that I was really “ready” for it, but if I kept waiting until I thought I was ready, Ryan was probably going to get married before I even went on a third date.

  “I guess we
will,” he said.

  The waiter came with the bill right after, and Nick paid it without looking at the bill. I wasn’t of the mind that his money made him more attractive, but it definitely didn’t hurt to see that a fancy dinner for two at a luxurious steakhouse in downtown Sacramento didn’t even cause him to bat an eyelash.

  “Can I walk you out?” he said.

  “Of course,” I said. “Seeing as how you didn’t walk me in.”

  Nick looked slightly taken aback, but I found myself putting my hand on his to comfort him. My entire arm both grew goosebumps and felt a warm tingle shoot through it. My body didn’t even know how to handle this man.

  He stood, offered his arm, and I took it. He led me down the stairs and stopped at the entrance.

  “So, I will see you again, is that right?” he said.

  “I think so,” I said with a smile that finally, genuinely signaled that I felt fully relaxed. “You have my number, strangely enough, for professional reasons.”

  “But consider it now personal.”

  I smiled, and a silence fell that could only mean one thing.

  We were about to kiss.

  But…

  For all of the warming up that we had done…

  He leaned forward…

  For all of the wonderful parts of the date that had happened…

  He closed his eyes…

  I still wanted to take things slow.

  I could smell him…

  I had to take things slow.

  I brushed my cheek to the side just as his lips would have touched mine. He instead wound up planting a kiss on my cheek as I gave him a hug.

  “I’ll see you around, Nick Ferrari,” I said with a smile that I hoped didn’t disappoint him too badly.

  I didn’t think I needed to worry. He looked like he saw it more as a challenge than a rejection. If anything, maybe I’d done something good for us—he was probably too used to girls just accepting whatever he did. He could use a little chase.

  I started to walk away, got to the street, and looked back.

  “Where are you going?” Nick said, still standing in the same spot.

  “To the parking deck?” I said as if there was no reason for Nick to not also be in the deck.

  “Oh,” he said as if something obvious had just dawned on him.

  And then a Tesla pulled around, the valet got out, and Nick made his way to the driver’s seat.

  “You want a ride?”

  Did I? Yes.

  “I’m good.”

  But just because I wanted it didn’t mean that I thought it was smart. I knew if I got in that car, I wasn’t leaving without a kiss. And for everything going on in my life and for all my baggage, I had to make Nick wait; I had to make sure I wasn’t setting myself up for a downfall again.

  But you know what?

  As far as first dates went, it was really hard to surpass what had just happened.

  Even if it had started with the most middle-school move ever.

  Chapter 7: Nick

  “She’s everything I thought she would be, and then some.”

  “Ohhh! Tell me more.”

  I literally could not wipe the grin off of my face. The entire drive back to my home, I felt like the kid that had woken up on Christmas day, won the lottery, and won over the crush of his dreams all in the span of a couple of hours. And now, recounting it to my sister Layla over the phone, it really did feel like a dream come true.

  “Well, she’s sweet but tough, just like I thought she was. She was engaging and charming and funny but pushed back on me at a couple of spots.”

  “Does she have any sisters? We need to get Brett someone that’ll push back on him a little bit.”

  I laughed, feeling only the slightest bit awkward that I hadn’t learned that fact about her. But she’d already agreed to a second date; such information would come to light in due time.

  “Not that I’m aware of. She’s beautiful, just my type. Hard working, works at a marketing firm here—”

  “Oh, I bet that’s how you met her,” Layla said, sounding like she had just cracked the code on some great mystery. “You probably got invited to some gig, you sweet-talked her, and now you’re head over heels. Are you sure marketing firm isn’t code for some sideline reporter for ESPN that I’m going to learn about on TMZ?”

  “Hah, no,” I said. I valued my privacy too much to engage in something like that. “She works for a regular firm that does event planning. Not national sports broadcasts.”

  There was a brief silence at the other end of the line.

  “Layla?”

  “I just…huh, you must really be serious,” she said. “Well, I’m happy for you, Nick, I really am. Don’t forget that tomorrow night, we have dinner with the whole family at the estate.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Well, you better not, considering they tried to schedule this event around the fact that you’re probably leaving for spring training soon. So, if you forget, you’re going to have a bunch of very angry old Italian men.”

  I think I would rather have created a public relations controversy with a bad tweet than I would have had to face that.

  “I won’t, don’t worry. I’ll see you then, Layla.”

  I hung up seconds later, still with a smile of disbelief on my face. And I didn’t even kiss her, that’s the craziest part. Like she didn’t want to be kissed so quickly. But I’m sure next date…

  Why did she not want to be kissed so quickly, though?

  Ah, who cared? It made it more fun. It was nice having a little bit of a chase; I hadn’t had one like that since probably high school. And maybe she did have legitimate reasons beyond some young woman’s idea of playing hard to get; maybe, with her being a single mother, she had to exercise extreme caution.

  And speaking of extreme caution, tomorrow’s dinner was going to be interesting. I knew Layla wouldn’t keep her mouth shut about my date, but in some ways, I wanted to leverage that to my advantage; I wanted Brett and Leo—if he showed up—to see I was doing my part to find a woman, and if nothing else, it would get grandma off my back.

  But if they knew that Izzy had had sex outside of marriage before, let alone having a kid…

  I got home, turned off my Tesla, leaned my head back against the seat, and smiled. Such questions, while not insignificant, didn’t need to be answered right here, right now. They could wait—but reminiscing about the date as I prepared for tomorrow could not.

  * * *

  After a morning workout that I found myself struggling through due to a lack of sleep—the reason why was obvious—after a phone meeting with my agent, after some light fielding and batting practice, and after a soft, easy interview with one of the team’s PR people for a fluff piece, I finally had time to be Nick Ferrari, the Ferrari grandchild, and not Nick Ferrari, the professional athlete. Of course, not really clear which is tougher.

  I showed up to the estate, not too far from Ferrari Wines, dressed as impeccably as I had the night before. I never minded getting dressed up, but I knew some in the family had their reservations about not being able to kick back around their own clan. The family butler, Walter, opened the front door to me. I thanked Walter and could already hear the clang and chatter.

  “Hey!”

  I looked over to the side. Brett was just emerging from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together as if he’d just dried them off.

  “What’s up, lover boy?” he said.

  I chuckled. I still felt in good spirits, despite running on less sleep than normal.

  “Are you still riding the high from last night?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “One date, and you’ve already gotten whipped harder than Jesus.”

  “May want to avoid saying that joke around—”

  “I know, I know, remember I’m the family sommelier, not Leo. I know how to act around people.”

  I grimaced. That was a bit of a low blow to the youngest
Ferrari, but I couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it with the way he acted from time to time.

  “Just, do us a favor and don’t show us up with your dating, OK? You know how grandma and grandpa are with that. They think Leo has fallen behind the eight-ball, for God’s sake.”

  “I will,” I said as we reached the main atrium. “But it’s not me you have to worry—”

  “Layla’s already blurted everything out,” Brett said with a sigh that in no way was exaggerated. “I’m just telling you, don’t harp on it, OK? Talk about getting ready for a new season and how you’ll handle free agency. That’s like talking about alien spaceships to them; they’ll be fascinated.”

  Brett firmly patted my shoulder as my mother loudly announced my presence, running over to me and giving me a hug.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said, a little sheepish at how dramatic and attention-giving she could be.

  “Nick, dear, you look so handsome. Come, come; let’s talk to your grandparents.”

  I followed my mother, not really having any choice in the matter, and came to them in their usual spots. Grandpa Alf—we just called him Grandpa; anything else felt like not addressing a man of the military as “sir”—sat at a small table that would have had room for no more than two people. Though the table and the chair that he sat in did not look especially stately or luxurious, the way it allowed him to survey the entire room and have people funnel to him gave it a certain appeal, a certain level of authority that went beyond its simple look. Grandpa moved around quite well for someone his age; though he certainly looked like a man in his eighties, he had the wit and the mobility of someone fifteen years younger.

  Grandma Mary, meanwhile, sat in an accent chair, always with her arm crossed, always with a glass of wine in her hand, always watching with a wistful smile on her face. She looked both like the queen observing her subjects and a simple grandmother, content and happy merely with the sight of people running around. I could never quite figure her out; I loved her no matter what and rarely had actual problems with her, but half the time, I thought she was even more conservative and traditional than my grandfather, and half the time, I thought she secretly was far more open-minded than even my parents were, but just did a good job of hiding it. She moved a little more slowly than grandpa and was more content just to observe than to engage, but when she did, she could have the same vigor as my grandfather.