Billionaires Dollar Series

“Of course you do,” Cole says, arm still around my chair. “You love the game.”

I laugh, propping my legs up. “Okay, okay, I get it. I know nothing.”

“We’ll teach you,” Timmy offers generously. “It’s starting!”

And so it is. We stand for the national anthem, and then I watch, nearly as entranced as the two boys, as the batter hits with the sound of a whip. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a baseball game, even longer in such an enthusiastic crowd. It’s exhilarating.

Timmy cheers and high-fives with Cole, occasionally giving me one, too. Next to me, Cole is outwardly relaxed with a beer in hand, but his eyes don’t leave the pitch. He wasn’t joking when he said he was a fan. He hasn’t shaved today, either, and his five-o’clock shadow is pronounced. It looks good on him.

He looks at me, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re here to watch the game, not me.”

“But you’re so much more interesting than a ball.”

He chuckles. “Is that a compliment, Holland?”

“Yes. Don’t get used to it.”

“No risk.” He tightens his arm around me and looks back at the game. On impulse, I lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t turn his head, but his lips curve into a smile.

Timmy is ecstatic at the first break between innings, so excited that he hasn’t taken a bite out of his pretzel. He discusses moves with Cole, who indulges my nephew in every part of the game he wants to dissect. And to my delight, both of them seem to be enjoying themselves.

Someone clears their throat next to us. “Didn’t know you’d be here today, Cole.”

A tall man leans against the entrance to our terrace, a rogue grin on his face. His hair is dark ink and cropped short, eyes taking in Cole, Timmy and me with dark amusement.

“Nick.” Cole nods, a look in his eye that’s impossible to interpret. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here today, either.”

The man snorts. “Glad we’ve established that. Hello,” he says to me, extending a hand.

“I’m Skye,” I say, as we shake.

“Nicholas Park.”

The name rings a faint bell. He sees it in my eyes, because his smile widens. “Yeah, that one.”

Wow. Arrogant, much?

Cole clears his throat, as if he was thinking the same thing. “Nick runs a venture capital firm.”

Timmy takes a step closer to me, watching this display of masculinity with bright eyes. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Just came by to say hi. I won’t bother you guys, out on a family outing.” Nick’s eyes are shining with sly amusement.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“Thanks,” Cole says. “I’d invite you to stay, but then again, I don’t really want you to.”

My exhale is audible-Timmy is staring at Cole with an open mouth-but Nick just throws his head back and laughs. “Of course you don’t. And you know what, I was considering going easy on you next time we play. But now I won’t.”

Cole snorts. “As if. Well, good luck trying.”

Nick’s gaze shifts to me and Timmy. “Pleasure meeting the two of you,” he says, and then he’s off, striding down the steps to his own VIP seating.

That’s when the name registers. Nicholas Park, Seattle’s most hated billionaire. Destroyer of companies. Hedge fund manager extraordinaire. Not a builder, like Cole. No, Nick deals with destruction.

“Wow.”

Cole reaches for another beer. “Sorry about that.”

“That,” Timmy declares, “was awesome. You just said…”

“I only said that because we’re friends,” Cole says. “And because Nick isn’t offended by anything.”

“Still, though. Awesome.” The hero worship is clear in Timmy’s eyes.

Cole reaches out to punch him lightly on the shoulder. “Game’s starting.”

It is, but I only spend one-third of my time watching it. One-third I’m looking at Timmy, happy at his happiness, and the other third is to sneak glances at Cole beside me.

Here, at the baseball game, he seems so ordinary. We seem ordinary, like this is something we do all the time. He’s relaxed and smiling. Still too attractive by far-there is nothing ordinary about his broad shoulders or square jaw-and yet it’s dangerously easy to pretend that we’re more than we are. Dangerously easy to forget the bookstore, the demolition plans, the expiration date on our casual relationship. I push the thoughts away, like I have so many times before with him. Live in the present.

By the seventh-inning break our team is in the lead, and you can tell. All around us, people are cheering and laughing, toasting with beer bottles, waving foam hands around.

The between-inning entertainment begins and up on the Jumbotron excited fans cheer, captured by the panning camera.

“You really go here all the time?” Timmy asks, finally reaching for his pretzel.

“Fairly often, yeah,” Cole says. “More often in the past, though. When I didn’t work so much.”

“What do you work with?”

“I’m in construction. Buildings, you know,” he says, as if his job was that simple. His gaze flickers to me-challenging me to add what we’re both thinking. And occasionally tearing them down.

“Coooool,” Timmy says, and then shoots me a look, like I might be offended. “Skye is really cool, too.”

Cole’s smile is crooked. “I think so, yeah.”

“She always lets me eat candy when I’ve finished my homework.”

I hold up a finger. “One piece, after math homework.”

“Whenever I stay at her place, I get to watch TV late, too. We watch a lot of nature shows.”

Cole chuckles at that. All my bad habits are being exposed here, apparently. “Anyway, are you Skye’s boyfriend?”

I open my mouth, but no response comes to mind. I’d told him before that we were friends. Apparently, I hadn’t been convincing enough.

Cole shakes his head. “No, but we’re very good friends.”

Timmy cocks his head. “Most friends don’t kiss, though. At least not any of mine.”