Stealing Home

  I knew not every aspect of my job had guarantees and certainties, but I couldn’t take the pressure off of myself.

  The Sharks’ batter had just earned his second strike, and the guys in the dugout were holding their breaths, ready to celebrate. The next pitch Watson threw, the batter connected with, sending a whizzing line drive right between first and second.

  From the dugout, it looked like the right fielder would have to field it, but Archer blurred into motion, making a sharp turn to get to it before leaping into the air. The ball whacked into his mitt right before he went crashing to the ground, a billow of dust erupting around him.

  The game was over—the Shock had won.

  I wasn’t sure who went wilder: the crowd or the team. The players left in the dugout rushed the field while the crestfallen Sharks trudged off of it. The coaching staff was clapping each other’s backs while the medical staff was giving our usual sighs of relief that the game was over and every player who’d walked onto the field was able to walk off of it.

  That was when my gaze drifted toward first base, where Archer was being righted by a herd of his fellow players, shouting their Hell yeah’s and clapping him on the shoulder. No one else seemed to notice, but I did. The subtle flash of pain pull at his face when he started walking off the field with his teammates. The set of his jaw when he put weight on his right leg with each step.

  Shit. Slinging my bag over my body, I rushed out of the dugout and onto the field. The players passed me with celebration on their faces, nudging my shoulders as I passed them. No one seemed to notice that one of their players was in pain.

  When Archer saw me loping toward him, his eyes darted toward the dugout, where Coach was. I didn’t miss the relief that washed over his face with whatever he saw.

  Squeezing between him and Watson, my eyes locked on his.

  “I’m fine,” he said under his breath.

  “Liar,” I whispered back, moving to put my shoulder under his arm to help him off the field.

  “No, don’t.” He gave an almost indiscreet shake of his head. “Coach—I don’t want him to know.”

  “Afraid he’s going to yell at you?” The noise was so loud in the stadium, I had to put my mouth right outside his ear for him to hear me.

  Archer’s jaw set a little more. “I don’t care if he yells at me—I’m used to it. I don’t like the idea of him yelling at you though.”

  I huffed, matching his every step off the field with one of my own. “I can take it.”

  “I can’t.”

  If he thought Coach would have something to yell at me over, that meant he’d hurt his leg. Again. For all I knew, he’d pulled it all over again.

  “Don’t,” he said under his breath when I moved to support some of his weight again.

  “Dammit, Luke, this is my job.”

  “Exactly, and I want to make sure you still have one tomorrow.” He tipped his chin just enough as we moved toward Coach. He was watching us now.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Not bad.” When I started to exhale, he added, “Really.”

  “Is that why I can see beads of sweat forming on your forehead?”

  The faintest of smiles crept into place. “I just finished playing nine innings. Sweat usually comes with the game.”

  “Are those nine innings the same reason you look ready to crack a few molars from the way you’re grinding your jaw?”

  Coach was still watching us, his brow furrowed just enough to give away that he suspected something was up. Picking up on the same, Luke’s strides became stronger, his gait less uneven.

  “How bad? Really?” I asked.

  “Not bad. Just a little mad.”

  I guessed he was lying or at least under-exaggerating. I guessed that had he been anyone else, he would have been curled up in a ball on the ground, crying for a painkiller that would knock out a Thoroughbred.

  That was when his gaze wandered to the stands, centering on one of the front rows, where three girls were flailing their arms like they were trying to hail a cab in New York during rush hour. If he hadn’t told me he had three little sisters, I would have figured it out from one look at them. They were all mini girl versions of Luke: light brown hair, big expressive eyes, and the same wide smiles.

  “Fan club?” I asked when he returned the arm flailing motion.

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  His sisters were winding their way to the fence, waving him over, totally decked out with Shock gear from foam fingers to shoelaces.

  “Why don’t you go say hi, and I’ll get your ice bath ready?”

  Luke groaned, but it wasn’t very convincing with the smile on his face. “You want to come meet them?”

  My feet stopped moving. He paused when he noticed me stopped at the edge of the field. Since I still didn’t know how to define whatever we were, family introductions had been way off my radar. Introducing a person to one’s family meant things were serious enough to bring that person into your inner circle. Was that how Luke felt about us? Or was he just being polite?

  How did I feel about us?

  “I think they want to see their brother right now,” I said. “Not one of the team’s athletic trainers.”

  Luke’s shoulder lifted. “They’d definitely be interested in meeting the woman I’m seeing.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?’

  His eyes locked on mine. “Sometimes the only way to know if you’re ready is to take the leap.”

  “I’M SORRY I put you on the spot like that,” Luke said from the second-row seat of his SUV while I sat in the driver’s seat, feeling like I was driving a tank down the interstate.

  “You didn’t put me on the spot. There was just a lot coming at me at that particular moment in time.”

  “Like me suggesting I introduce you to my sisters.”

  I sagged in relief when he pointed at the upcoming exit sign. In addition to feeling like a bus in comparison to my small sedan, Luke’s SUV wasn’t a smooth ride. My body would probably still be vibrating tomorrow morning. “Like me realizing I made a bad call letting you play tonight.”

  “You didn’t make a bad call.”

  As he said it, I heard him adjust the bag of ice I’d forced him to keep on his leg. I’d also insisted he keep it elevated for the next twenty-four hours, which was why I was in my current condition—barreling a tank off the interstate while Luke Archer sat behind me with a reinjured groin muscle.

  “Is that why you didn’t want to say anything to Coach about it?” I asked.

  Our eyes connected in the rear view mirror.

  “I didn’t want to say anything to him because there was nothing to report.”

  “And that’s the reason you have a bag of ice on your crotch and are laid out in the backseat, right?”

  He leaned forward, bracing his hands between the passenger and driver’s seats. He smelled fresh from the shower, his still-wet hair curling around the rim of his ball cap.

  Getting distracted by the way Luke smelled was not a great idea if I placed a priority on getting him to a destination safe and in one piece.

  “No, you are the reason I have a bag of frozen water on my crotch.” His fingers curled into my headrest caressed my cheek. “I’d much rather have something else between them right now.”

  “Like a vise?”

  Archer chuckled, pointing me down the right road when we came to the end of the off-ramp. “Hey, Allie?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me play. For taking a chance on me. For being you.” His hand dropped to my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  “Is that all?”

  “No, not all, but it sums up a good chunk of my thanks.” He pointed down the next road, and I coaxed the tank into a turn.

  “In that case, you’re welcome.” I tried not to get distracted by him in the rearview mirror. Or the way I could feel him leaning toward me. Or
the way his hand was still lingering on my shoulder. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

  “I’d be disappointed if you asked me one that wasn’t weird.”

  I lifted my brow at him in the rearview mirror. “The condom thing.” I swallowed. “Pulling out last time . . . what’s the deal? I’ve never met a guy so concerned with birth control.”

  Luke didn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable with the topic when I checked the mirror.

  “Do you not trust me—what I said about being covered? Do you just really like latex? Are you scared of having a kid?” My eyes stayed on the road after that. I felt all kinds of awkward bringing this up, but it had been on my mind ever since that first night. I appreciated him being so responsible, but there was a difference between conscientious and paranoid.

  “No, none of that. I trust you—I wouldn’t be with you like that if I didn’t. I don’t have some latex fetish, and I’m not scared of having a kid.” Luke was quiet for a minute, so I checked the mirror—he was staring out the side window with a pensive expression. “I’m scared of getting a woman pregnant who isn’t sure she wants me in her life.”

  My eyebrows came together. “But that isn’t me. That wouldn’t be me if that happened.”

  Luke pointed at a tall building up ahead, so I moved into the right lane. “But until I knew that, I had to be careful. You may think you know a person, but you need to know you know a person.”

  When I looked at him in the mirror, this time he glanced away. Whatever was playing out in his eyes, he didn’t want me to see.

  “Why?” I asked.

  His jaw set as I pulled up in front of his apartment building.

  “Another time,” he said at last, shifting in the backseat. “I’d invite you up but . . .”

  “You have three younger sisters at your place?” Putting the tank in park, I twisted around in my seat. His expression was clearing from the topic we’d just touched on, but it was obvious there was a story there. Maybe one day he’d feel comfortable enough to tell me. Maybe he never would. After the way Ben treated me, I knew what it felt like to have scars you wanted to keep hidden.

  “Actually . . . I figured you’d say no,” he said, gesturing toward the front doors to his building.

  “Oh.”

  “Am I wrong?” Bracing his elbows against the headrests of the front seats, he leaned forward.

  “No, you’re right,” I said, trying to ignore that his face wasn’t even a foot away from mine. “I’m sure your sisters want you all to themselves right now.”

  He gave me a minute to change my mind—clearly trying to change it for me with the way he was looking at me—then shrugged. “Okay. Thanks for the ride.”

  As he crawled across the backseat to open the door, something hit me. “I just realized something,” I said, blinking. “I have no idea how I’m going to get back to my car to get home.”

  Archer’s smile told me this had crossed his mind a while ago. “Just realized that, eh? I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. Must have been distracted by something.” Waggling his brows, he added, “Or someone.”

  “The man stretched out on the backseat should not be flattering himself right now.”

  He chuckled like my state of transportation impairment was amusement at its best. “Take my car home,” he said, motioning at the steering wheel. “We can go get your car together tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to drive this tank another length of curb.”

  His mouth fell open. “Are you insulting my wheels?”

  “Yeah, I think I am.” Even in park, the thing was rumbling like we were four-wheeling up some logging road. “Besides, why are you driving something that probably rolled off the manufacturing line when we were in middle school?”

  “Because we have a lot of history.” He patted the passenger seat affectionately. “I drove this baby to college my freshman year. It’s gotten me through a lot of good times. You don’t just abandon it because people expect you to drive a Range Rover with twenty-inch rims.” He made a face like he’d rather be caught driving a hot pink Barbie car. “Besides, in this, I’m incognito. As you’ve just proven, no one expects me to be driving a 2003 Tahoe.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised a guy who made bank drove a car with a trade-in value of probably five grand, but it still made me shake my head. “Point made.”

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow morning then? Around eight?” His hand dropped on the back door handle.

  “To drop off your car?”

  His shoulders lifted. “And to go shopping. Remember? Me and the girls. At the mall all day.”

  I exhaled. “I don’t know, Luke.”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, if you expect me to follow-through on my promise to keep my leg elevated all day, that means I’ll be in a wheelchair, which means shopping will be spatially challenging.”

  I made a face at him. “Spatially challenging?”

  “Have you ever been in those teen girl stores?” He waited like he was expecting an answer. I didn’t think my abundance of team polos and khakis required an answer to that. “I can barely fit as a bi-ped. Definitely won’t be able to as a four-wheeler with an appendage hanging out.”

  “Speaking of appendages . . .”

  His smile twisted as his eyes dropped to his crotch. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “How is your leg?” I said around a sigh. Luke had a one-track mind that was always heading in the same direction—between my legs.

  “Better than my dick right now,” he muttered, looking so dejected I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

  As he started shoving the door open, sliding down the seat to leave, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. One I hoped I wouldn’t regret.

  “Luke?” When he glanced back over his shoulder, I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  All signs of dejection disappeared instantly. “Really?”

  Instead of overthinking it, I listened to what my heart was telling me. “Really.”

  FROM THE SOUNDS I could hear coming from the other side of the door, it sounded like an entire mob of sorority sisters had taken over Luke’s apartment. Some over-played, under-talented band’s song was blaring, a couple of girls’ voices joining in during the chorus. The sound of a blow dryer could be made out in the background, and I just heard someone close to panic levels shrieking about their missing tube of mascara.

  It even smelled like a sorority house—or walking past the threshold of a Bath and Body Works and getting plowed over by the array of scents blasting out.

  Thinking of Luke inside with three teenage girls who sounded and smelled as though they were fully embracing their teenage state of being made me smile. He came across as such a guy’s guy on and off the field, so hanging with him and his sisters today should be an enlightening experience.

  That was part of the reason I’d agreed to it—I wanted to see him in a different element. I wanted to see how he was and who he was with his family. Was the man I knew the same one he was with those he loved the most? If not, who was the real Luke Archer—the one I knew or the one I was about to get a glimpse of?

  The other reason I’d agreed was because I knew I would miss him. It was too early on in a relationship to be missing someone, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be around him on our days off. It wasn’t just the intimacy I wanted—it was his presence. The energy he exuded, his easy smiles, and the way one look from him could make me feel things in every part of my body.

  Managing to maneuver the tank into a parking space in the garage this morning after slogging it back to my place last night, I made my way up to his apartment. A doorman buzzing residents or visitors in was about as fancy as the building got. Never would anyone look at it and think one of the top players in the game of baseball lived here. I loved that he did though. I loved that he drove a decade-old vehicle and lived in the kind of place that appealed to the middle-class of the city. I loved that for
Luke, playing was about the sport—not the money and fame that came with it.

  When the song changed to one that made me cringe, I heard Luke’s moan of protest from the other side of the door. Good to know neither of us would force the other to listen to this atrocity.

  I’d stalled long enough, so I knocked on the door. Luke had mentioned leaving around nine, and it was only a few minutes to. Plus, I had to get him situated in his mode of transportation for the day.

  When the door flew open, the first thing the girl’s eyes drifted to was the wheelchair in front of me. Then she busted up.

  “Please say that’s for Luke,” she greeted, stepping aside and waving me in.

  “It’s for Luke.”

  “And all is right in the universe again.” She was the female version of Luke—striking eyes, long caramel-colored hair, and an easy smile. She had a small gold necklace on with her name hanging from it. For a girl who’d just had her heart broken, she looked like it was already healed. To be young again.

  “Where is the gimp?”

  “Probably hiding in his closet with a pillow wrapped around his head.” She closed the door behind me and padded into the living room.

  It looked like a sorority house too. Nail polish bottles were scattered over the end tables, pillows were strewn around like a pillow fight had just gone down, and articles of clothing were hanging and scattered across every stationary surface, including the television.

  “Cameron!” she shouted down a hall. “Turn it down! Luke’s trainer is here!” She waited until the volume dialed down. “Sorry, I’m Alex, and you must be Allie.” Her eyes dropped to the wheelchair.

  Luke and I had agreed via a quick text this morning to keep our relationship quiet with the girls. To them, I was an athletic trainer for his team and nothing more. That was it. Not because I was worried about them blasting it out there for everyone to know, but because bringing a person into their family circle was a big deal. I didn’t want Luke to introduce me to his sisters as the woman he was seeing until I’d caught up to what was going on between us. Until I could qualify what it was and determine if there was a few-weeks expiration date.