by Mignon Mykel
“Remember that trip the six of us all took to New York?” She asked.
I cringed at the memory. Stephanie and Indigo had spent half an hour talking me off a bench in Central Park as I was overwhelmed with all the people moving.
In Pittsburgh, I loved the windy back roads with no traffic to navigate over Manhattan and being lost in a sea of people. “Yeah?”
“London’s even worse, which is why we’re getting a house in the country. When you come for the wedding, we can all stay together.”
Go to London. I worked at a superstore filling online orders. My savings from the inheritance had all gone to Jeremy. Phoenix, my sisters, and a few cousins all pooled together funds for me when I had to quit my financial job after giving birth, but that money was for Jeremy’s college and his future.
And, the superstore had insurance, which was good, as Jeremy was a kid and might need medical care. Doctor bills could wipe out every dime faster than a recession.
“I know none of us wanted to marry. I was the different one, but being in love is a good thing.”
Our mom had always tried to hide herself as the eternal wallflower who hated going outside, and once our father had died, she'd withered away like she needed the oxygen only our father provided. I’d not be that crazy.
“I want love…for Jeremy.”
I knew she wanted the best for me, and she’d hug me like that might make me change my mind as she said, “I love you, Sis.”
My son called up the stairs, “Mom, are you ready?”
This was his day. I told Stephanie that I had to go and rushed down the stairs. I’d call my sister back later.
He was dressed and pacing. Our shoe shelf was near the door. I grabbed my sneakers, the one extravagance I'd bought myself this year, and headed to our Rav 4 parked in our garage.
We were fine. I was lucky that my inheritance had been enough to fund Jeremy’s college, and being a single mom with my part-time gig meant I could be there for my boy and keep insurance.
I didn’t need to be my sisters, who all had fancy careers to complete their lives.
And I absolutely didn’t need a man. Jeremy was enough. So I needed to stop living in my head already. I checked his seat belt and closed his door.
Then, I took the driver’s seat and said to him, “I don’t know anything about baseball. You’re going to have to explain everything.”
He rolled his blue eyes. He wore his little league cap that read "Sea Horse" and a Pirates jersey. “I play shortstop, and you come to all my games.”
In seven years, he’d be a teenager and my son would do worse than give me that look of his that read "annoyed". I cringed as I imagined him as a rebellious teenager. His father had been wild and fun. I tapped the steering wheel as we headed the few miles into the city with the skyscraper horizon surrounded by the rivers to park at the stadium for the game.
Other families were walking through the parking lot, then heading inside, laughing and joking, and mentioning the hot dogs. The game had been a good idea.
I held my son’s hand. “Okay, we need to find these seats and you’ll have to explain the players and whose good or not and why.”
He pointed to the overhead sign and said the team names. “Today the Pirates play the Sooners. One of my favorite players will be here.”
“That sounds awesome.” When I played completely dumb and let him explain, I helped his self-esteem, so I asked, “And the Pirates are from here?”
He gave me a pointed look like my father would have made at me if I’d ever shown disloyalty to my hometown team. “Yeah, and the Sooners are from Tulsa.”
Well, that made sense. I’d never been to Oklahoma, but of course they’d be the Sooners. I used to like history, so I knew that name was the settlers’ moniker for going the night before the race to claim land and camping out near the flag sites before the race had started. Once racers had closed in, they'd put their flags up and had pretended they'd won.
I read on our ticket that we were in section 9, which Indigo, my sister, said was the closest tickets she could get last minute. It was right next to the Sooners' dugout. But it was fine. I maneuvered us around the crowd to find the seats.
“And they play the same way you do?”
Jeremy, with his short brown hair and long sides and bangs in some strange style, said, “They’re better. I can’t catch the ball that good. Can we get a hot dog?”
“Sure,” I said and noticed his nose was red from the sun already. My shoulders slumped. I should get him a hat for the sun. Today he could study the pros. At home, I had nothing more to help. Jeremy had wanted someone to toss the ball around with, but I couldn’t. I’d tried, but he’d given up on my catching and tossing skills once he'd realized they were worse than his.
I needed to figure out how to help him and who to ask. I walked toward the stand outside our numbered section and ordered a couple of hot dogs, sodas, and popcorn.
He carried his food and we filed in. Indigo had been right. We could smell the fresh grass. Hopefully, Jeremy saw whoever his favorite was from our vantage point.
Jeremy slipped into his seat and hugged the popcorn as he said, “Mom, these are great seats. We can see the dugout.”
I laughed and settled in, putting my drink in the seat holder. “I only get you the best, kid. You know that.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said as the seats around us filled in.
I checked my phone, which was empty of messages, but that was fine. No sisters or cousins in crisis that needed my ear today, as the second mom of the entire Steel clan. My first real responsibility in the world was next to me. I put it away and smelled the fresh popcorn and beer and listened to people around me mentioning some player named "Irons" with some amazing batting average as the one the Pirates needed to fear.
Everyone was smiling, including Jeremy, who looked enraptured with the field.
I tapped his side and said, “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
The team in the dugout beside us started coming out.
Jeremy said, “That’s Rodriguez. He’s the pitcher for the Sooners.”
We could see them lining up to go on the field and I said without looking, “I see.”
The next man on the huge Jumbotron had that chiseled chin I’d never forget. Jeremy had inherited it.
"That’s Michael Irons," Jeremy added the name I’d wondered about for years.
Adrenaline coursed through me as I glanced toward the field and saw the player in question.
The player who’d rocked my world.
Irons spit out whatever was in his mouth and waved to the crowd as I asked with an almost breathless voice, “Who?”
“He’s the shortstop and has the best batting average in the league.”
Shortstop. MVP. Weekend fling. Father of my son. My heart trembled,
I grabbed my soda from its holder and said, “Jeremy, we need to go.”
His gaze narrowed, and he didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
“Get up.”
I pushed at him. If he saw me, I’d find out in a second if he even remembered our moment. I’d had my memories and his son. We needed to leave. Now.
He didn’t move from his seat. “Mom, we just got here.”
My skin had chills as I grabbed my son’s arm. “I’ll explain later. Please run.”
He stood, shook his head at me, and put his hands in his pockets. “Mom, we’re here, and you promised to take me to a game. Your phone didn’t ring, so nothing happened to anyone.”
A warmness stirred in my belly as someone came behind me, probably for their seats next to us as I tugged my son and said, “I’ll get better tickets tomorrow.”
“Mom, turn around,” Jeremy said as his eyes widened.
My skin had goosebumps it hadn’t had in a long time. “Why?”
He pointed and said like he couldn’t quite breathe, “It’s Michael Irons, the shortstop.”
I turned around and stared into the stormy blue eyes o
f Michael, Jeremy’s father.
“I never thought I’d see you again.”
I’d stopped looking for any signs of my vacation romance years ago.
I never should have stopped. His hand wrung the hat he held in his hands as he asked, “Georgiana? I never got your last name?”
That was it?
I’d played this scenario over a thousand times in my head, but I stilled and just said, “Michael, hi.”
Jeremy now took my hand. “Mom, do you know Michael?”
Not once had I imagined the muscular man in my bed had been a baseball player. I probably should have guessed he was an athlete, as he was still all muscles, but somehow even sexier than my memory.
Maybe it was the skintight pants.
My face felt hot as I said, “No. I mean, yes. Kind of. We met years ago, on vacation, before I had you.”
Michael stared at Jeremy and then at me. He widened his stance. He knew.
He saw a mini version of himself, square jaw, blue eyes, pointed nose. “You checked out of the hotel early.”
My entire body felt tight, like I was going to rocket my own flight out of here from the energy in my veins. “I…My father died. Then my mom soon after. I was a mess and my life was in turmoil for a while.”
He took my hand in his. “You didn’t leave a way to find you.”
“Michael Irons!” Jeremy said fast. “You’ve got the best batting average and record of catches in the league.”
Of course. The one thing our son craved to be better at was the one thing his father was clearly good at. He took out his phone from his back pocket and shoved it in my face as the stadium-filled crowd around us became clearer.
Michael quickly said, “Look, give me your address and phone number. I have to work, but after the game, we need to talk. Clearly.”
Talk. Right. Of course. I’d played out finding him and telling him about his son for years now, but it generally was me in a sexy dress strutting over to him and then he’d kissed me in my dreams of this moment. Now, real-life was different, and my fingers trembled.
Still, I typed down my information and handed him back his phone as Michael asked, “Can we stay at the game, Mom?”
Jeremy’s lips thinned.
I wish I knew what he thought, but I asked with my head down, “How long do games last?”
Michael answered in a deep voice that had once made me swoon, “A few hours usually, and I’d like us all to go out to dinner after.”
Jeremy’s bounce and jumping beside me meant he wanted to. I had no argument. My son had wanted to know his father. Searching out who he was online had been impossible when I’d been so busy looking up cures for my mom that never panned out. And when she’d died, I’d been in my third trimester, more worried about what to do to prepare for a baby than anything else.
I nodded at Jeremy and wished things had been different as I said, “Then we’ll stay.”
Michael put his Sooners cap back on. “I’ll see you both right after we win.”
“Boo.” The red-headed, overweight man behind us screamed. He had the Pirates logo painted on his cheeks.
I slumped onto the bench and Michael strutted away with that hard, muscular ass I’d once squeezed. He spoke with someone on the team and then they both stared at us.
My jitters were still inside me as I stabbed the ice with my straw in my soda.
Another man, skinnier, wearing a uniform like Michael but much younger than him, ran toward us as the team went onto the field to play. “The team wants to offer the two of you family seats.”
I grabbed Jeremy’s arm like someone might steal him from me. Family with Michael sounded permanent.
I trembled a little and squared my jaw when I said, “We’re fine here.”
The young man then backed away and said, “Well, at the top of the ninth, I’ll come to find you both.”
“Great,” I said and then slumped into my seat.
Jeremy stood and the second I heard the national anthem, I jumped up.
At the end of the singing, and someone in a wheelchair tossing a ceremonial pitch, we took our seats and the game began.
My son asked, “Mom, how do you know Michael Irons?”
Clearly, I was a liar. And a bad one. Maybe I should have at least looked at his baseball cards once or twice, but that wasn’t my interest. I bet I probably had seen his face in passing, but I'd never connected the dots. I’d been more into ensuring Jeremy had what he needed for school, clothes, and ate to stay healthy.
A head rush came from having to explain everything to a six-year-old and then to a sexy grown man right after.
I slumped my head down and didn’t care who was hitting what ball on the field and said to Jeremy, “I… we met at a hotel. I didn’t know he was a professional baseball player.”
Jeremy sounded like my father when he asked, “Where was this hotel?”
I'd been a financial analyst when I’d met Michael. I had gone on an adults-only vacation with some friends who I was no longer close to.
“The Bahamas. The resort was nice.”
Jeremy’s lips thinned and his bright blue eyes didn’t blink. “And you bumped into Michael then?”
“I’d been swimming in the pool when he came and joined me.”
Life had been so easy then. He’d joined me, bought me a drink, and whispered naughty ideas in my ear. My face heated when I remembered how many times his cock had made me writhe in pleasure. I hadn’t wanted anyone else since.
“Jeremy, remember when you asked me who your father was, and I told you I didn’t know?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah.”
I'd read books about this on the off chance the situation arose on how to explain why I was a single mom.
“I didn’t know what happened to Michael or his last name. I thought it was better to assume I’d…we’d never see him again.”
After a long pause, Jeremy’s face brightened and said, “Michael Irons is my father?”
I lowered my voice. “Don’t say that out loud.”
His face lit up as if he just saw the gifts under the tree. “Maybe he can teach me to be a better shortstop like him.”
Maybe. He might be married, have children of his own, a girlfriend. And I didn’t exactly believe I’d ever marry. What if I transitioned into my mother, who’d accepted whatever my father had said without her own opinion?
A shadow came over me and there wasn't a cloud in the sky as I said, “We can’t assume he’ll even want to see us again.”
“Why not? He wants to see us.”
Out of the mouth of babes. Just because his sperm found my egg once, it did not mean he wanted a lifetime commitment. And I wasn’t exactly good wife material.
“Because he doesn’t know about us.”
Jeremy shrugged and ate some of his popcorn. “This game is better than I dreamed, Mom.”
Or the worst day of my life.
I closed my eyes and wished I’d have looked up more about my son’s interest in professional baseball, figured out Michael’s last name, and called the hotel for Michael’s name, or any number of crazy things I could have done but didn’t.
“That’s good for one of us.”
When Michael walked away from us, I’d be left to pick up the pieces of my son’s broken heart. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it, but I had no choice. I needed to see him, too.
How could I ever imagine the man who rocked my world years ago would turn out to be a baseball player? All I remembered was sitting at a pool bar where he whispered naughty things in my ear and convinced me to go to his room with him. Get Rocking Player for now free on all stores.
About Victoria Pinder
USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Pinder grew up in Irish Catholic Boston then moved to Miami. Eventually, found that writing is her passion. She always wrote stories to entertain herself. Her parents are practical minded people demanding a job, but when she sat down to see what she enjoyed doing, writing became obvi
ous.
Visit my website and download a free novel
www.victoriapinder.com
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Also by Victoria Pinder
Returning for Valentine’s (FREE if you go to my website)
The House of Morgan
Secret Crush
Secret Baby
Secret Bet
Secret Wish
Secret Dad
Secret Heir
Secret Tryst
Secret Date
Secret Romeo
Secret Caress
Secret Match
Secret Bridesmaid
Secret Admirer
Secret Cowboy
Secret Mistress
Secret Cinderella
The House of Morgan Boxed Set 1-3
The House of Morgan Boxed Set 4-6
The House of Morgan Boxed Set 7-9
The House of Morgan Boxed Set 10-12
The House of Morgan Boxed Set 13-15
Princes of Avce
Forbidden Crown
Forbidden Prince
Forbidden Royal
Forbidden Duke
Forbidden Earl
Forbidden Monsieur
Forbidden Marquis
Forbidden Count
Forbidden King
Forbidden Bastard
Forbidden Noble
Forbidden Lord
Princes of Avce 1-3
Princes of Avce 4-6
Princes of Avce 7-9
Steel Series
Legendary Rock Star
Rocking Player
Ruthless Financier
Wicked Cowboy
Powerful Prince
Cocky M.D.
The Hawke Fortune
Tempting Gabe
Tempting James
Tempting Conner
Tempting Harry
Tempting Navid
Hawke Series
Married to the Billionaire
Irresistibly Lost
Irresistibly Found
Irresistibly Charming
Irresistibly Tough
Irresistibly Played
Irresistibly Rugged
Irresistibly Strong