"Tough one today, Garrett," Tucker had said after the game. "You'll come back for the next one."
Garrett gave a short nod, but mostly stared at his knees as he sat in front of his locker. At least they were at home, because the only thing worse than losing a home game was losing on the road.
He also knew he'd said what needed to be said. You couldn't pump up a losing pitcher. They felt bad, and nothing you could say would make them feel better, so the less said, the better. It was best to just move along.
When he stepped outside the locker room, there was an onslaught of family members and friends waiting for the players. Wives and parents and girlfriends and the like. Which was good for them.
His parents lived on the family ranch in Texas. They came up on occasion when they could, and would often drive up for his games in Dallas and Houston. But he was an adult and certainly didn't need his mom and dad to attend all his games. His brothers had pro careers of their own, though they sometimes flew in for his games as well, and now that he played for St. Louis, Grant would show up for games, which was nice.
But Grant was doing a PR thing in New York this week, so he was out of town.
Not that he expected his brother to come to all of his games. As a baseball player, he played a lot of damn games, and Grant had a life.
Still, he wondered what it might be like to have a . . . someone. Someone he knew would be there when he walked out that door after every home game.
"Tucker."
He turned around at the sound of his name, smiling when he saw his agent, Victoria Baldwin. She was with Elizabeth Riley, who was also a sports agent, along with being married to the Rivers first baseman, Gavin Riley.
He walked over to them.
"Hey, Victoria. I didn't know you were at the game today. Hi, Liz."
Victoria shook his hand, while Liz kissed him on the cheek.
"Tough loss today," Liz said. "I know Gavin will hate it. And Garrett will, too."
"Yeah, Garrett's not happy. Are you here to see him, Victoria?"
She nodded. "We have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon, though I'm sure he's not going to be in any mood to talk business."
"He'll be fine. We shake off a loss pretty fast and look forward to the next game."
Victoria laid her hand on his arm. "Of course you do, because you're all superstars. That's why I represent you."
Liz laughed. "Only the best for us, right Tori?"
"Indeed. And speaking of my clients, do you mind, Liz? I'll take a few minutes with Tucker."
"Not at all. Good seeing you."
"You too, Liz."
Liz walked away and Victoria led Tucker over to a quiet spot away from the crowd. "Just checking in. I know we talk regularly, but I want to be sure you're happy here since signing with the Rivers, that things are going well."
"It's great. I've settled in, I like the team and management. Nothing to complain about."
She smiled. "That's what I like to hear. I knew this team would be a good fit for you."
"You were right. They have great talent and everyone gets along. Management is willing to spend the money to get the right players, and the coaches know what the hell they're doing. I couldn't have asked for a better fit."
Victoria nodded. "Plus, one of your brothers lives here in town."
"Well, you can't have everything." He cracked a grin.
She laughed. "You're so bad. There's Garrett now so I have to run. If you need anything, call me, okay?"
"You got it. Thanks, Victoria."
He watched her walk away. She was smart, had been in the business for a long time now, and she was an absolute shark in contract negotiations. He couldn't ask for a better agent.
He laid back and watched her scoop up Garrett and walk away with him, then he lingered awhile longer. Liz was there to greet Gavin, throwing her arms around him and giving him a long kiss and hug. Gavin had told him Liz used to be his agent, until the two of them got involved, and eventually married. Then they had to sever their professional relationship, but it sure looked like they had a great personal one. Gavin spotted him and waved as the two of them walked away, along with several of the other guys and their wives or girlfriends.
Nice.
He shook his head.
He had no idea why he was even thinking about all the other couples today. Not having a significant other had never bothered him before. He always worked his way past the crowds without a second thought.
So what made the idea of a . . . someone . . . pop into his head today?
He got into his car and started the engine. Was it because he'd never heard back from Aubry? Why did that bother him? He pulled out his phone. It had been two days, since he'd texted her. He punched in her number, figuring maybe this time he'd call.
She didn't answer, which meant she was probably at work.
Rather than heading home, he turned his car onto the highway in the direction of the hospital. He'd just stop in and see if she was there.
He was sure she'd be happy to see him.
IT HAD BEEN A GRUELING DAY ALREADY. SHE WAS nearing the end of her shift, and Aubry found herself watching the clock, counting down every minute.
Chen had ridden her ass about a case she'd worked this morning. A mother had brought in a child with a broken wrist. No matter what she'd done or said, the kid wouldn't stop screaming. It happened sometimes. The little girl was four, in pain, and utterly inconsolable. And the parent was nervous as hell about her little girl's broken wrist, so instead of being the rock her little girl needed, the mother had only added to the tension.
So Aubry had had a screaming child with a broken wrist, along with an extremely upset parent, and she was trying to set the arm when Chen had chosen that moment to walk in on her.
It wasn't her finest moment.
Of course, her normally gruff and not-at-all warm attending physician had somehow managed an utter personality transplant. He'd gone all smiley and sweet and calmed the highly emotional mother and got the little girl to stop crying. How he did that she had no idea, because half the time Dr. Chen made her want to cry. He was intimidating as hell, yet in the room he had the little girl laughing and the girl's mother in a state of absolute calm about the whole ordeal.
Aubry finally managed to set the arm and cast it without the kid screaming the entire time. And after they got the cast on the girl and the instructions relayed to the now-calm mother, Chen talked to her in the hallway.
"You didn't handle that well."
She lifted her chin. "I was handling it."
"Not from what I saw. You were tense and nervous."
"I've set broken bones before, Dr. Chen. I can assure you I knew exactly what I was doing."
"Being a doctor is about a lot more than just the medical aspect of patient care, Dr. Ross. What you had in there were two people in severe emotional distress, one of them a child. And while the procedure might seem minor to you, to them it was traumatic. Your first priority was to calm both the patient and her mother. The medical procedure could have waited, since it wasn't life threatening."
No shit, Sherlock. She didn't need him to point out the obvious to her. But he was her attending, and whatever he had to say, she needed to listen. "I understand, Dr. Chen. I'll do it better next time."
"See that you do."
He walked away, leaving her standing in the hallway feeling like a total failure.
She knew her job, and she'd always thought of herself as completely empathetic to her patients' needs, especially children. How had she so totally screwed that up today?
She headed back to the main station to update charts. It was change of shift, so she gave status reports to the incoming residents on patients who hadn't yet been discharged.
"You have a visitor."
She was charting notes and looked up at Marie. "A visitor?"
"Yes. Your hot baseball guy is in the waiting room."
She cocked a brow. "Tucker?"
"Yes. He's b
een here about an hour. I told him you were busy, but he said he'd wait."
Interesting. So he ignored her for several days, then just showed up here, expecting her to drop everything and see him?
She was not in the mood for this--for him. Not after the kind of day she'd had. She should make him sit out there until he got bored or tired of waiting. That would send a message to him, wouldn't it?
"So, do you want me to bring him back?" Marie asked.
"No. I'm due for a break, so I'll take care of it. Thanks, Marie."
She wandered out to the waiting room, which, fortunately, wasn't too crowded at the moment. She searched the room and found him in the corner, slouched in the chair, sound asleep. She walked over and kicked his tennis shoe.
He opened his eyes and sat up straight in the chair. "Oh, hey, Aubry."
"Tucker."
He stood, yawned. "I came by to see you."
"So I heard."
"Are you busy?"
He was kidding, right? "I'm working."
"When do you get off?"
"Not for a while."
He shoved his hand in his pocket. "Oh. I thought maybe we could grab something to eat."
"Seriously?" Since they were quickly gaining an audience of eavesdroppers, she motioned him through the doors and into a hallway. "You don't call me for days, then show up here and expect that I'll be available?"
"Hey. I texted you two days ago."
"Oh, right. A text message. At eleven-thirty at night. I'm not some chick you banged that has nothing better to do than wait for you to call, Tucker. I have a life. A career. And no, I don't have time for dinner. In fact, I don't have time for you. So you can walk through those doors and take yourself home. We're done."
She turned and walked away, assuming he'd leave.
"Hey. It works both ways, you know."
He'd caught up with her. She stopped and looked around, hoping like hell Dr. Chen had already left for the day.
"Excuse me?"
"These are modern times, Aubry. You could have called me, too. And I was in Denver for three days for a road series."
She shrugged. "Why would I call you?"
"Because you like me? Because we had fun the other night?" His lips curved.
She tipped her finger at his chest. "And you could have done the same. Besides, you said you'd call. So I assumed you would." No way was she going to allow him to put this on her.
"I had practice. I was busy. And I texted. But you didn't reply."
This conversation was going nowhere. "Because I was working."
"You could have replied the next day."
She rolled her eyes. "This conversation is ridiculous."
"I agree. What time do you get off work tonight?"
"I'm off in an hour and a half. Unless something big happens. Then I might have to stay."
"Great. I'll be back in an hour and a half, and we'll go get something to eat. Then we can talk some more. Or argue more if you'd like."
"I don't--"
But he'd pulled her against him and brushed his lips against hers. "I like arguing with you, Aubry. Let's do that some more. But while we're eating. I'm hungry. See you soon."
He turned around and walked through the doors before she had a chance to tell him no.
Damn that man. He was infuriating. To think he'd assume she'd go out to dinner with him--do anything with him, was outrageous. When he came back, she'd tell him.
But he was right about one thing.
She was hungry, too. She'd barely had time to eat an energy bar today.
So maybe she'd have dinner with him. She'd let him buy, too, just for aggravating her. And then she'd tell him they weren't going to see each other anymore.
After dinner.
TUCKER WAS BACK AT THE HOSPITAL AN HOUR AND A half later, waiting at the door for Aubry. He'd gone home, taken a shower and changed clothes so he felt a lot more awake.
Better able to do battle with Aubry.
She was in a feisty mood. And okay, maybe she had a right to be mad at him. He wasn't the best with communication. He'd obviously dropped the ball on his follow-up with her. From her point of view, she probably thought he didn't give a shit, when the opposite was true.
He'd make it up to her over dinner.
He told the main desk person he was there, and asked if she'd relay the information to Aubry. She did, and came back a few minutes later to tell him Aubry would be right out, so he took a seat in the waiting room to watch whatever was on TV. An old comedy rerun. He could live with that.
Fifteen minutes later, Aubry walked out. She'd changed out of her scrubs into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black button-down shirt. Her hair was soft and silky, making him itch to run his hands through it. She'd even put on makeup and lip gloss, which immediately made him think about kissing her.
She might be mad at him, but the fact that she'd taken the time to look that good meant something to him.
He stood and headed over to her. "You look amazing."
"Thanks. A patient threw up on me. I needed to take a shower."
He laughed. "You still look incredible. Sorry about the throw up."
"Why? You weren't the one who did it."
He shook his head and took her arm. "I hope it didn't ruin your appetite."
"Not at all. I'm starving."
"Me, too. Let's go. Can we just take my car? I'll drive you back here after."
She paused. "That doesn't seem to make sense from a logistical standpoint. Where are we going?"
"Not far."
She considered it for a few seconds, then nodded. "Okay."
She got into his car. He turned to face her. "First, I'm sorry. You were right. It was on me to call and I dropped the ball. And that makes me an asshole. I'm not that kind of guy. When I say I'm going to follow through, I do. I apologize for that."
He watched her expression. It had been tight as they'd walked out to the car. Now, her shoulders sagged and she exhaled. "Well. Dammit, Tucker. I was all set to argue with you. I had a good mad going on, too."
"Uh, sorry again? You're welcome to stay mad. I don't mind a good argument."
She laughed. "No, really, that's okay. Apology--both of them--accepted. Now where are we eating?"
"How do you feel about Italian?"
"I feel really good about it. Right now I'd eat fast food I'm so hungry."
He wrinkled his nose. "I eat plenty of that. And no, thanks. We're eating good food tonight."
He drove them to Il Bel Lago, a restaurant he'd heard about but hadn't eaten at yet. He turned off the engine. "I heard the food here is really good."
"Sounds great to me."
They walked inside and Tucker gave his name to the hostess, who told him it would be a few minutes.
"We'll wait in the bar," he said.
The bar was dark and modern. They took a seat at one of the tables, and a waitress came by to get their drink orders.
"I'll have Chianti," Aubry said.
"Beer for me," Tucker said, then looked over at Aubry. "How was your day?"
"Intense. Rough. Yours?"
"We had an afternoon game. We lost."
"I'm sorry. Did you pitch?"
He shook his head. "No. Garrett Scott did. But it's still tough to lose a game. Even harder when I'm not the one in control."
"You like to be in control."
His lips curved. "I'd pitch every game if they let me."
Their waitress brought their drinks.
"Thanks," Tucker said to the waitress.
"You're welcome. Sorry about the loss today."
Obviously she recognized him. "Thank you. We'll get 'em next time."
After the waitress walked away, Aubry took a sip of her wine, then said, "That must happen a lot."
"What?"
"People recognizing you. Talking to you about baseball."
He shrugged. "Not as often as you might think."
"I don't know." She leaned back in her chair, cradl
ing her wineglass between both hands. "St. Louis is a big baseball city. They know their players."
"And here I thought you didn't care about baseball."
"Oh, I don't. Actually, I prefer football."
He frowned. "You're joking, right?"
"I am not."
He shook his head. "Great. Just great."
"What's wrong with football?"
"Oh, nothing. Other than the fact that the Cassidys are well known for being a football dynasty."
"Is that right?" Then her eyes widened and she leaned forward. "Wait. Wait. I remember meeting Grant and Barrett when they brought you into the ER, but for some reason I didn't recognize him at the time. Grant's the Traders' quarterback, right?"
"Yes."
"Wow. I don't know why I didn't make that connection. How fascinating. And Barrett plays football, too?"
"Oh, it's worse than that. Barrett's actually my twin. He plays for the Tampa Bay Hawks. And I have another brother, Flynn, who plays for the San Francisco Sabers. My dad is Easton Cassidy, former quarterback for Green Bay and now a Hall of Famer."
She laughed. "You have got to be kidding me. You do have a big football family."
"Tell me about it."
"So why are you the only one who plays baseball?"
Not the first time he'd heard that question. "Because I like baseball."
"You never wanted to play football like the rest of your family?"
"Nope."
"So you're not playing baseball because you couldn't cut it in football or anything?"
Not the first time he'd heard that question, either. "Uh, no. I played both when I was a kid, and decided I liked baseball better. You could ask your dad--or the Rivers coach. I'm a damn good pitcher."
She laid her glass on the table and raised her hands in the air. "I believe you. And obviously you're with the Rivers now because you're good. The general manager and my dad don't put people on the team if they're not good at what they do. I just find it curious that out of this family dynasty of football players, you're the only one who chose baseball."
"You're not the first person who thinks it was because I couldn't cut it as a football player."
Their hostess came and directed them to their table. The restaurant was separate from the bar, and the decor was different as well. Well lit, yet more intimate, not as loud as the bar. They were settled into a cozy booth in the corner, providing them some privacy.
"Enjoy your meal, Mr. Cassidy," the hostess said with a bright smile.