Take Me Out Read online

  Take Me Out

  DAWN ROBERTSON

  Charlotte Windsor is a good girl, for the most part. Growing up with protective older brothers, the Boston Socialite has yet to spread her wings. When she meets tattooed bad boy, Bentley Young, she has no idea he is actually a reluctant real estate mogul. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, Bentley has chosen to live a simple life - surrounded by as many beautiful women as possible. He has no intention of settling down. But one chance baseball game will change both of their lives forever. Charlotte and Bentley fall hard for one another and the sparks fly. But a storm is headed their way – ex-lovers, arson, and heartbreak. The game of love is not always a sure thing, sometimes it goes into extra innings…

  *Content Warning: May contain adult content and explicit scenes. Intended for 18+ audience.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013

  Dawn Robertson

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Beau Coup Publishing http://beaucoupllc.com

  Cover and Technical Assistance by Added Touches http://addedtouches.com

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my family.

  For supporting me through the process of Take Me Out.

  My beautiful children, you are the light of my life.

  My father for always cheering me on.

  And my late sister Dawn, for being my guiding angel.

  Chapter 1

  Letting Loose!

  (Charlotte)

  I sat staring at the clock in my last class before a grueling week of final exams. Professor Anderson was going on about “taking the summer to explore the rich history our town could provide,” something we had all heard since entering the doors of Boston University our freshman year. It had become tiresome by my junior year, especially as a history major. I leaned over to Jake, my best guy friend and whispered “I’m so glad we’re hitting the town tonight” with a little nudge.

  Jake was that guy, all the girls loved but couldn’t have, but not because he was unavailable. We were all simply the wrong gender. He had the bone structure of Tom Brady and the body to go with it. The way he carried himself one would never believe he had a gay bone in his body, but if he had one too many drinks, the jig was up. When my best friend Shay was too busy studying, Jake was my other half.

  I met Jake my freshman year in American Literature class. The professor was a real bitch. Jake sat next to me and couldn’t make heads or tails of most of the material. The good Samaritan in me came to his rescue, becoming his study partner. Studying often turned into too many martinis. Many nights had been fueled by alcohol, but after almost four years of friendship, he’d turned into one of my best friends.

  “How in the hell did you get all those tickets?” Jake growled at me, grilling me like I was on the stand. I just smiled at him. He knew one call to my brother Jon and I could have any seat in Fenway Park for the night.

  Baseball was my passion. Ever since I was a little girl the only place I wanted to be was on top of the Green Monster. My father had coaxed me into playing softball at a young age and I became obsessed, playing every year through high school. The first time I sat up on top of the Green Monster was with my father and my heart skipped a beat as I felt passion like never before. I came alive.

  My days started with me staring at the park and often ended with listening to the crowd singing Sweet Caroline in the distance as I drifted off to sleep. It was my level of comfort.

  “Quit daydreaming and let’s get out of here!” Jake barked and snapped me back into reality. I was free ‘til Tuesday when final exams would consume my life, making my brain ooze directly out of my ear. “After you, sir,” I replied.

  “Wooooooooo! A toast! To freedom and Fenway!” I screamed as we all saluted each other with our brimming cups of ballpark beer.

  “I’ll drink to that!” Shay chimed in as others shouted in agreement with us. With a smile on her face, she was my date for the night. We did most things together and while she didn’t care for the game, she loved the big party the games turned into. She was definitely a people person.

  Tonight she looked impeccable. Her short black hair was gently styled into a side bang. She wore a perfect smile that lit up a room and her caramel mocha skin was completely flawless. Shay was the ideal best friend, in the sense that she was beyond loyal. She was going to be an extremely successful person one day. There was no way she would fail with her drive and hard-working nature.

  Shay had come to live with my family after her mother was killed in a car accident when we were young. Maybe ten, if I remember correctly, but it feels like she’s always been my adopted sister and best friend. We always joked that we were the same Ebony & Ivory that Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder sang about back in the 80’s. On occasion, we could actually get some Boston U sorority ditzies to believe it too. Those moments were priceless!

  We all made our way to our third-base-line seats as the stands started to pack in. It was damned near impossible to wade through the crowds without some guy trying to cop a cheap feel. I looked good tonight, although not as good as the busty blonde Jake had on his arm. I would never understand why he toted around these trophy wives in training while all he really wanted was a Justin Timberlake look-a-like in his life.

  I was sporting my favorite red, sparkly Red Sox cap with my long brown pony tail pulled through the back. I was wearing my favorite pair of worn skinny jeans and a white Red Sox tank top, perfect for the beautiful Boston evening. I liked keeping it casual. Lord knew when I was growing up my mother packed me into every pink, crinoline-adorned, ladylike dress she could get her hands on. Some days I wished I grew up in a family where appearances weren’t everything.

  My mother always put what other people thought before anything else, even caring for her own children. Love wasn’t absent from our house, but it certainly wasn’t coming from my mother.

  Being the only biological daughter in a sea of boys had been hard, but it helped me to hold my own as I got older. I grew up with three older brothers, all of whom were huge baseball fans. Baseball games were a weekly family thing. They were overprotective. And after all the shit I’d gotten into in high school, even my good behavior in college couldn’t satisfy them.

  I was too caught up in my own daydream to notice the two guys who sat down in front of us. One was the typical tall, dark, preppy, handsome type I’d dated multiple times before. Guys like him just bored me to pieces. Tales of pre-law or pre-med classes always made me want to snore over my sparse, fancy dinners which never filled me up. But my father liked them for appearance purposes. I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t to earn my dad’s approval.

  There was something about the other guy that almost made me snap my neck staring. Shay immediately noticed my curiosity, giving me an elbow to the ribs. “Don’t hurt yourself there Charlie,” she whispered.

  He was statuesque. I was five-feet tall and he was at least a foot taller than I was, if not more. He had visible muscles under a sea of colorful tattoos. But what stuck out most to me was his blatant I don’t give a fuck attitude. “Am I going to have to pick your jaw up off the ground girl? Get your shit together before homeboy notices!” Shay looked at me like I was a ghost.

  Before I could break my gaze, he turned around and we were locked in an elementary school staring contest. His deep blue eyes paralyzed me. My stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, my panties slowly became wet and I felt as though I was losing my damn mind! No man had ever had the impact on me this mystery man had in jus
t one moment. I felt like a preteen at one of those parties where they played Seven Minutes in Heaven. Did he know who I was? Damn near everyone in Boston did!

  “I need to pee,” I said, standing up and tugging Shay in the direction of the bathroom. Since when did my sanctuary of Fenway Park become so uncomfortable? This was going to be a long night and the only way I knew to comfort myself was to have a full cup of beer at all times.

  “Anything for you Charlie!”

  As we made our way to the bathroom, I felt like all the blood had rushed out of my body and I was floating on a cloud. My legs felt like Jell-O and I tripped a couple of times. What the fuck is happening to me? When I finally snapped out of it, I leaned into Shay, who was examining me like I was a patient of hers. “Do you think he knows who I am?”

  “Who doesn’t know who you are?” She laughed at me.

  “A girl can hope, right?” I giggled back like the school-girl I had become. Immediately the mood lightened, which is exactly what I needed tonight.

  My friends called me Charlie but my real name is Charlotte Ann Windsor. My mother was a local historian and my father a world-class pediatric surgeon who pioneered dozens of modern pediatric procedures at Boston’s famous Children’s Hospital. Both were philanthropists in the local community, and pillars of high society. It was something I could walk away from tomorrow and never look back. It was a shadow I hated because of the unwanted attention it brought. I learned to deal with the scrutiny, especially during my out-of-control teen years when my every misstep became all of Boston’s business.

  “More beer, Shay?” I asked.

  “You bet your ass! Tonight we celebrate!” Shay replied with gusto.

  “Celebrate what?” I was confused as hell. What the hell was there to celebrate? The upcoming week of tedious testing? Or the fact that we had three days left before the hell began?

  “Your new found toy, girl, go get ‘im!” I couldn’t help but laugh at Shay. She was always so optimistic, acting like I was some kind of outspoken, confident broad.

  We giggled in the beer line, making tipsy asses of ourselves. The guy in front of us turned around annoyed at the bitches having way too much fun behind him. And there he was again, Mr. Tattoo, staring at me with a flustered look on his face. He must have gotten ahead of them when they were in the restroom

  I wanted to ignore him, but he made retreat impossible when he turned and spoke. “Bentley Young,” he said as he leaned in to shake my hand, “we can’t seem to stay away from each other this evening.”

  I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I was surprised I didn’t hit the ground in that moment. Desperately trying not to squeal like a teenage girl, I held in my excitement. A shove from Shay snapped me out of my trip to Mars and I put my hand out to meet his.

  “Charlotte, but my friends call me Charlie.”

  As he touched me, there was something between us -- like Fourth of July fireworks. I thought I was going to ignite right then and there. His touch engulfed me in want. As all the lustful feelings flowed through me like electricity, he pulled away. I could tell he was intrigued by the look on his face. He had the same feeling flowing through him; I just knew it. I could see the want in his eyes, so big and blue and full of emotion.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you Charlie. I hope to see more of you.” Bentley strolled off into the crowds as the announcers started getting the fans riled up for the game. There was no feeling like a Red Sox/Yankees game at Fenway Park. It was really the best game you could go to as a fan. The oldest rivalry in baseball had only strengthened over the years.

  Shay gazed at me with laughter in her eyes. I was never a flirt. Ever. I had never seen the point. Bentley brought it out in me though. Right then Shay burst out into song, “Bad boys, bad boys, what’cha gonna do?” She finished the familiar song with gusto.

  I spit my beer out everywhere laughing, while strangers stared at the scene we were making. She certainly was a word doctor if I had ever met one. We rushed back to our seats before the first pitch, I didn’t want to miss it and secretly I really wanted to check out the other scenery.

  “What took you ladies so long?” Jake asked suspiciously as we shuffled back into our seats. He knew from the moment he saw our mischievous grins that we were up to no good. He was obviously dying to be included. But the less people who knew about my crush, the better.

  As the innings progressed and the Sox started raking in the runs, the crowd became livelier. Mr. Tattoo would turn around and flirt a little, making small talk. Sometimes he’d add his panty-wetting grin as an embellishment. He had no idea how effective it really was. I wanted him.

  By the time the seventh inning stretch came, to say we were drunk was an understatement.

  In keeping with Fenway tradition, the music started and we all chimed in on cue, “SWEEEEEEEEET CAROLINNNNNEEEEE BOM BOM BOM!”

  At that moment, Bentley jumped over the seats, grabbed my hands and pulled me to dance. ‘Can this really be happening?’ I thought. While still managing to enjoy the music and dance like idiots, I noticed that each of my friends was looking on with a measure of concern. But this moment and inside the moment, Bentley and I were perfect together.

  “GOOD TIMES NEVER FELT SO GOOD! SOO GOOD! SOO GOOD! SOO GOOD!”

  After the short-lived dance, the tough-looking, mysterious man dropped to his knee serenading me for all to see. Though my face lit up red out of embarrassment, I had never been serenaded before and enjoyed every minute of it.

  The ballpark photographers all clamored over to take a picture of the scene Bentley had created on the third baseline, clicking away in hopes of selling some souvenirs.

  When the song ended, he took my hand and placed a small kiss on it, dropped it and headed towards the exit, as though he had planned his early musical exit all along. His touch completely clouded my senses. The rush he caused in me was strongly euphoric, to the extent of which I had never experienced in my entire life. I wanted to touch him back but I was too frozen in shock to go after him.

  The onlookers which packed the rows around us had mixed responses to the display. Some stood with their mouths hanging open, while others whispered with their respective neighbors and some cracked jokes about my new boyfriend. The fact was they knew I never get serious about anyone. I had dated around through college, but had never taken a serious boyfriend. I wasn’t planning on doing so until I was done with college in a year. I had too much riding on my last year of college, including a full-time, real world job.

  I was never going to see him again and a flood of disappointment washed over me. But it didn’t matter, he was gone. That realization flooded me with both disappointment and longing. This beautiful man, who had just sent such a raw desire through me, was gone. Even more than before, I felt I didn’t just want his touch, but that I needed it. I was helpless against the power of my timidity and the strength of the rules which I’d given myself.

  “I think I am going to head out for one last beer before the game ends.” I headed in the general direction of my new fetish.

  Jake threw in his two cents. “Uh huh, like you need another beer. Good luck finding him. He’s long gone!”

  I let out a laugh and hurried away. Making my way down the tunnel my head spun back and forth in search of Bentley. After a few minutes, I gave up. On the way back from my disappointing search, I stopped for a beer. As I reached the section entry, I heard a voice behind me, “You were just going to let me walk away like that?” My heart soared. I turned around to find my new obsession standing so close to me that I could smell him. The mixture of cologne and beer was heavenly.

  He took me in his arms, right there in the tunnel for anyone to see, putting his arm around my waist tightly, the other on my face softly. As he brushed his knuckles down my cheek, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. His lips were warm and inviting. He tasted delicious, of mint mixed with beer. I melted in his arms. The way he made me feel in that moment was so foreign. He might as well have str
ipped me naked and taken me against the wall with the sensations that were going through my body. The kiss was unlike anything I had felt before. After his romantic gesture he let me go and backed away repeating his question.

  “Ugh... What the hell? I don’t know where your mouth has been!” I stuttered out. I couldn’t speak worth a shit. What the hell was wrong with me? His spell was potent, so much so that I couldn’t speak. I stuttered out something incoherent. Even I have no idea what I said.

  He let out a little chuckle at my bitchy demeanor.

  I was just stuck and confused. Why in hell was I letting this guy touch me and kiss me? The only explanation was that I had officially lost my damn mind. I had tried for years to control my damn behavior and now I was ruining all my hard work by losing control in public?

  “I’ll take your response as a good thing,” he said, grinning.

  As he walked away from me I was finally able to breathe again. When he put his arms around me, he’d made me feel naked. I watched him head for the entrance to our seating section, my clothing feeling suddenly constrictive. “I don’t need a guy in my life right now anyway!” I mumbled as I walked back to my seat.

  As I rounded the corner there was Shay and Jake chatting it up with Bentley. They’re conspiring with the enemy! When they noticed me they pretended like they weren’t doing anything wrong. There was no way I was letting Shay get away with it.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit to myself that Bentley had made an impression on me, he was the only thing on my mind.

  The game ended and Shay and I stumbled back to our apartment only a couple of blocks away. When I hit my bed I knew I had overdone it with the alcohol for the night and I was out in seconds.

  All weekend brought dreams of Bentley. Dirty dreams: like the kind you have after falling asleep watching Cinemax and you wake up to the cheesy porn remakes with horrible plot lines. Saturday and Sunday nights I woke up turned on, soaking wet and in need of a cold shower. What am I, a horny teenage boy?