Homestands (Chicago Wind #1) by Sally Bradley Page A

back and ran a hand through his hair, his mouth tight in a frustrated smile. The muscles along his jaw clenched. “Fine.” He nodded her way, then picked up the box as if it were full of cotton candy and tucked it beneath an arm. “After everything I did, I understand why you’d want nothing to do with me.” He blew out a breath, fingering a frayed corner of the box. “But someday, Meg, we have to talk. We don’t have a choice.”
    No choice?
    He opened the door, said goodbye, and left.
    No, he was wrong. She might share Terrell with him and listen to their baseball conversations, but never again would she relive the death throes of her marriage.
    Somehow she would move on.

Chapter Twenty
    So Monday night had not gone as planned. Fine. This morning would be different.
    Outside Meg’s house, Mike slammed his Range Rover door and locked the vehicle. He started up her sidewalk, bag of fresh cinnamon rolls in hand.
    His refusal to see or speak to Brooke had convinced Shauni that he was committed to making up with Meg, and Shauni had spent a full morning brainstorming with him on how to rebuild the connection between them. Recreating good memories was one idea, and cinnamon rolls dated back to their first month of marriage. They’d sat in bed the morning after he returned from a road trip and caught up with each other while they ate their gooey rolls.
    What he wouldn’t give to do that again.
    He halted at the sight of two cars parked in her driveway. It figured she’d have people over just when he thought he’d catch her alone. What would Shauni tell him to do?
    Probably to think like a woman.
    He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the birds chirp in Meg’s bushes and the dog across the street yap away.
    Nothing entered his mind.
    Of course not. If he could think like a woman, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He sighed and continued up her sidewalk. All he could think about were the dozen fans he’d fought off at the restaurant just to get these rolls. Meg was going to eat them, and she was going to enjoy them. Clients, friends, whatever—he didn’t have a day to lose because in less than two weeks he’d leave for another road trip. By then, he needed to be back in her good graces.
    He rang her doorbell. One of the Wind’s charities, a childhood cancer foundation, was hosting a black-tie fundraiser next Friday. He’d already bought two tickets, one for himself and one for Meg. He pictured her in an evening dress, silver earrings dangling with that thick, golden hair piled on her head. He’d introduce her to his teammates and to local celebrities—actors and musicians—who came to the event. After the dinner, they’d spend the rest of the night enjoying downtown Chicago at its best, and by the time the city began to stir—
    First, he had to find some alone time with her.
    Without warning, her door swung open. Meg stood there, lips downturned, eyes narrowed.
    Yeah, good thing he couldn’t think like a woman. He looked around her, but the house seemed silent and empty. “Hi,” he said. “You got a minute?”
    She tilted her head, lips squished together as she debated. “I can spare that.”
    Just like always, giving him crumbs. He held up the brown bag, forcing a smile he didn’t feel anymore. “I’ve had a taste for cinnamon rolls. Thought you might like to share them with me.”
    Her mouth twitched, but she stepped back enough to let him enter. “I guess I can take a short break.”
    “Don’t worry. I’ve got to leave for the stadium in an hour.” She could go back to her precious job then.
    She led the way to the kitchen.
    Mike glanced in the living room and family room and, when he entered the kitchen, the formal dining room. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.
    “What are you looking for?” Meg asked, pulling two plates from an upper cabinet.
    “I thought you had a client here. The cars.”
    “Oh.”
    She stepped around him, seeming to take care not to brush against