The Athletic Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers

by Lucy McConnell

  “Well, don’t leave her waiting.” She shooed him off, grinning.

  The door swung shut behind him and Harper continued to stare. “He’s the sweetest kid I’ve ever met. And if Ashley breaks Logan’s heart …” Harper yanked out the silverware drawer. “She’d better watch out.”

  Isaac slipped into the small space right next to Harper. He took out a spoon and gently shut the drawer. “Let’s not threaten innocent girls until the knife drawer is shut, okay?”

  Harper giggled. “If you insist.”

  “I do.” Isaac folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the counter. That was one of Harper’s favorite poses. With his fists tucked under his biceps they were positively huge, and his chest was bigger too. And he looked so rebel-without-a-cause hot.

  Sucking down the spoonful of half-flavored ice cream, she turned so they were side by side. She swirled her spoon across the top of her dessert as her mind ran over the bounce from missing her mom to feeling content again. Just knowing Isaac and Logan would be around tonight and in the morning and the next night too loosened the tightness in her chest she’d developed over the years as she pulled into herself.

  “Do you ever get lonely?” she asked Isaac. “I mean, after Logan’s mom left.” Her ears burned. She had no idea if that was an appropriate question to ask. “I mean, I hadn’t realized how alone I was in life.”

  He considered her for a moment. “Was?”

  Okay, mad confession time. “Until you two moved in, this place was quiet—like morgue.”

  He half grinned, pleasure twinkling in his tiger eyes.

  Harper ducked behind her hair, digging into the cup with renewed interest.

  Isaac bumped her with his shoulder. “I wasn’t lonely for people because I had Logan, and I was so worried about how her leaving would affect him that I didn’t focus on myself.”

  “Of course.” Her appetite evaporating, Harper set the cup on the counter, the spoon sticking straight up.

  “The nights were hard.” Isaac’s voice was low and intimate, like it had been in the hotel room when it was just the two of them, the darkness, and their conversation. “I missed pillow talk.”

  “Pillow talk?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never heard of pillow talk?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s the quiet conversation a couple has before they fall asleep.” He spread his arms, his left hand on the counter behind her. A thrill dashed over her skin.

  She turned her body towards his. “We had pillow talk then.”

  “Yes, we did.” He studied her, his eyes caressing her face.

  Her cheeks grew warm. She knew what they shared had been a closeness, a new way of communicating that she hadn’t had with any other man, but she didn’t know there was a name for it. Nor did she know it meant something to Isaac until this moment.

  “I’ve been wondering …” He fingered a stand of her hair.

  She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “Yes?”

  “If I weren’t the manager …”

  “Yes?” Harper placed her hand on his chest to steady herself.

  “And you weren’t the owner …”

  Harper had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she began to tremble because she wanted this to happen and she was afraid that if it did, everything would change. Isaac wanted to change the team and Harper needed it to stay the same—to honor her father.

  “Game Time! Game Time!” shouted Isaac’s phone over and over again, interrupting the moment.

  “My alarm.” He pulled it from his back pocket and silenced the noise. “We need to get to the stadium.”

  Logan came in. He looked at them once and then once again as if he were trying to figure out what was going on. Harper busied herself putting the tasteless ice cream back in the freezer and her spoon in the dishwasher. “I can be ready in five.”

  “Can I come?” Logan asked.

  “Sure,” Harper said at the same time Isaac said, “Weeeeell.”

  “He can hang with me. Do you want to invite Zander?”

  “Sure.” Logan sent off a text while Isaac drank half a cold water bottle. His gaze landed on Harper and smoldered there. She always did like a man with a sexy smolder.

  For heaven’s sake! Getting caught up in some hormone-induced affair with her pretend husband was not an option at the moment. Was it?

  “He’ll meet us there.”

  “Great.” She dashed from the room and away from Isaac’s overall draw.

  When she’d fallen for Jackson, she’d had the same heady sense of twirling through space, head over heels, on a merry-go-round of attraction. Except, she could honestly say that she’d never experienced the intimacy she’d felt while pillow-talking with Isaac before. Of course, she’d never shared a room with Jackson—not that he hadn’t tried every trick in the book. Ha! Isaac had come up with one trick Jackson would never try—marriage.

  There were so many similarities between the two men. They were both baseball fanatics. Both took care of their bodies. Both had that bad boy image thing down. Except for Jackson, it wasn’t a show—he really was the bad boy type. But Isaac … Isaac was a good guy on the inside. He put Logan’s needs first. He was loyal—talking about making the Redrocks competitive for years to come when he only had a one-year contract. This could have easily been a short-term win for him, yet he really wanted to make a difference while he was here.

  And that was the problem.

  He was a good guy who looked at the Redrocks with an objective eye—one she hadn’t been able to achieve. She saw the team through grief-colored glasses that blurred issues. If she didn’t put some distance between her and Isaac, he might just get those glasses off, and then the protection the team provided would disappear. She didn’t know if she could handle that much grief. Taking it in small doses seemed like the smarter thing to do.

  21

  They lost their first game against Boston—a disappointing five runs. Isaac asked the new team psychologist, David Norris, to do a complete workup with each player between workouts and home games. They were in the midst of a three-day series and he wanted to get inside their heads. David was meeting with Brian Tuttle now. Isaac wanted to pace outside the doorway; instead, he went downstairs to check in with the physical therapy team.

  He walked in to find Elise rotating Jackson’s arm, her lips in a firm line and her eyes narrowed. “Not. Interested,” she said through barred teeth.

  “I’ll bet you know just how to make my body—”

  “Hi, Elise,” Isaac interrupted Jackson’s advances.

  Jackson gave him a lazy wave with his free hand. “Coach.”

  Isaac nodded his way. “What’d the doctor say about Jackson’s arm?” he asked Elise. Harper ordered weekly checkups as a strategic move and to appease the press.

  “Nothing showed up on the tests.” She pulled Jackson’s arm behind him, stretching the shoulder muscles.

  Isaac grunted. “Did Harper see the test results?”

  “I did,” Harper said behind him.

  He turned to see her standing in the doorway like a kid who didn’t know if she were invited to the party. Her eyes darted to Jackson and him and then to the floor. There was this wall or moat between her and Jackson. Isaac wasn’t sure how it got there.

  Elise let go of his arm. “He’s got full range of movement.”

  Jackson winked at her. “We could test that out after dinner tonight.”

  Elise’s eyes widened and she gave a panicked look to Isaac. “No thanks.”

  “When’s his next turn in the rotation?” Harper asked Isaac.

  “Not until we play San Diego, Thursday night.” They had two more games against Boston and a much-needed day off before they faced the California team.

  “You’re medically cleared to pitch in the series,” Harper said to Jackson.

  “Great news.” Jackson flashed his SPORTSNetwork smile. “I wouldn’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”

>   “By all means, go.” Elise made a show of holding her hands up in the air as if they were contaminated as she crossed to the sink. Pumping the soap dispenser multiple times, she used enough soap to create a bubble bath.

  Jackson went to leave, moving right into Harper’s personal space. “Miss me?”

  Harper met his suggestive gaze. “No,” she answered with conviction.

  “You will.” He swaggered away.

  Isaac hustled across the room, feeling the need to chase Jackson away from Harper. Though it wasn’t because Harper had cowed to him this time. The feeling was a burning jealousy—a primal need to keep a predator out of his home and away from those he cared about.

  Yes, he cared about Harper. She’d shown a kindness to him and Logan that went beyond the parameters of their contracts—baseball or marriage. Not only that, even though he’d bent their deal about Jackson, she’d followed through with her side and approved the salary for a team psychologist. Spending that money on his idea was a huge leap of faith for Harper—faith in him. He didn’t want to let her down. Which is why he’d checked up on Jackson. Not to say I told you so, but to show that he truly had the Redrocks’ best interest at heart.

  “He shouldn’t say things like that—” Isaac waved back and forth between Harper and Elise. “—to either of you.” Jackson’s leering suggestive behavior grated. Especially the way he took familiarity with Harper.

  Elise ducked. “I promise, Mr. Wolfe, I didn’t encourage him. I can’t imagine what you think after last time with Blake and now Jackson saying—” She bit her lip.

  “I don’t think anything bad about you,” Isaac assured her.

  “I’ll send someone from human resources to talk to him.” Harper grinned mischievously. “If he bothers you again, please let one of us know.”

  “I will.” Elise nodded.

  “Thanks for all you do.” Isaac waved goodbye as he followed Harper into the hallway. His fingertips went to the small of her back. He loved the way it curved in slightly. “Human Resources?” he asked.

  “By the end of the day, he’ll have mandatory classes for proper workplace behavior.” Her eyes danced. “I can’t have him harassing our female employees.” She glanced over her shoulder. “No matter how beautiful they are.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Isaac looked her over, making sure she knew he meant her and not Elise.

  Harper flushed.

  “Are we riding home together tonight?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you bring your motorcycle?”

  “I did.” He put his hand on her waist, pulling her slightly closer. “I thought you liked Harleys.”

  “I did. I do. It’s just …”

  Harper always thought things through—from multiple angles. He’d hoped that by catching her off guard she’d give an honest response. Isaac leaned in. “It’s just a ride home.”

  “If only that were true,” she said quietly. “I’m in a skirt.”

  He leaned back to take in her beautiful legs and her just-right-tight pencil skirt. A skirt that would hike up to reveal a whole lot more of those gorgeous legs if she sat behind him on the bike. “I don’t mind.”

  “I bet you don’t.” She laughed. “Maybe another time.”

  Gently squeezing her waist, he let go, feeling a little swagger in his step.

  22

  The bright stadium lights made the outfield grass the perfect shade of green. Bugs swarmed the bulbs but thankfully left the fans alone. Although they might as well swarm the stands and get people moving for as exciting as this game was. An older gentleman had fallen asleep five rows up behind home plate. That will look great on television.

  The announcer in Isaac’s head started up again: Well, folks, we’ve got several dismal innings to get through before this one is over I’d tell you to buckle in, but the Redrocks aren’t going anywhere. Not with the way Jackson Kimber is pitching tonight. He’s throwing just fine, but the time between pitches is unbearable. The best news is that the Redrocks have been able to hold ‘em at 0-0. Probably because they’ve gone to sleep.

  Isaac took his ball cap off, scratched his head, and put it back on. Jackson was baiting him to walk out the mound again or pull him from the game. He wasn’t going to play that game because he’d seen how Jackson worked that one. It was time to come up with something else. His mind turned the situation over.

  “Popcorn. Get your popcorn!” yelled a vendor that sounded a lot like Logan.

  Isaac tuned him out and focused on the game. The batter hit a pop fly to left field that graced the fence before landing in Tuttle’s glove.

  “Two down!” shouted the shortstop, Dustin Colt.

  Jackson caught the ball and scratched his cheek. He took several signs from the catcher, shaking his head at each. Stepping away from the board, he turned the ball over in his hand. Stepping back up, he shook off another signal. The catcher shifted his weight. Isaac glared. If anyone on the team suffered during a long game, it was the catcher, who spent all nine innings in a squat.

  “Popcorn!”

  Isaac turned to see who it was that could sound so much like his kid. The voice cut right through his ability to concentrate.

  It wasn’t just some guy that sounded like Logan; it was Logan, walking up and down the VIP section with a box of popcorn bags slung around his neck and a toothy grin on his face. “Get your popcorn!”

  Jackson threw a wild fastball.

  “What the …?” Isaac stared at Logan.

  “Are you going to pull him?” asked Coach Shipley.

  “I’m pulling someone!” Isaac felt for his phone before remembering that he’d left it in his locker. No one was allowed a phone in the dugout—league rules. They didn’t want players tweeting during the game. Which left him without a way to get in touch with Harper. All he could do was watch helplessly as his fifteen-year-old hustled the stands.

  Folding his arms, he glared at the game.

  “Well?” prodded Shipley.

  “Let him dig his own grave.” Isaac jerked his chin towards Jackson. The batter got off a line drive between first and second. Dustin made a diving catch and came up with the ball and a chest full of grass stains. Grinning, he held his glove over his head as he jogged in.

  The players filed past Isaac. He patted some on the back, nodded to others. Told them good job. Until Jackson paused at the top of the steps, towering over Isaac. He thrust out his jaw as if daring Isaac to put up a fuss.

  Isaac gave him a pitied shake of the head. “Even the super agent Ronny McDow can’t sell a player in a slump.”

  “I’m not in a slump.”

  “Then prove it. All I see, all the scouts see, is a guy who’s struggling out there. They don’t care why.”

  Jackson stomped down the stairs. “I thought you cared about the team.”

  Isaac ignored his comment. For Jackson, it wasn’t about the team. It never was nor would it be. For Jackson, it was all about Jackson.

  For Isaac, it was about getting through this game so he could get Logan out of that T-shirt and hat and back in the VIP booth where he belonged.

  * * *

  Isaac took the stairs to the third floor. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his uniform after post-game interviews, and he may or may not have dropped the term “slump” in reference to Jackson’s performance tonight. If pressure from the national media didn’t make Jackson perform, then he wasn’t sure what would.

  As upset as he was about how the game went—Redrocks won by one run with a final score of 0-1—he was ten times as upset about seeing Logan running up and down the stairs with a fist full of cash. He hadn’t worked his tail off so that his kid could sell popcorn and sodas.

  Harper’s door was open. He walked in to find Logan lounging in one of her chairs and Harper behind the desk. They were grinning like two thieves who’d pulled off a heist.

  “My son is not going to hustle the stands.” Isaac slammed the door shut behind him.

  Harper’s smile faded. “
I checked the labor laws—”

  “It’s not about the law.” He ground his teeth together.

  “It’s honest work, Isaac. Everybody’s got to start somewhere.”

  Logan hung his head. “Dad, I just wanted to make some money.”

  “For what?” Isaac threw his hands out. “I make more than enough for both of us.”

  Logan got to his feet. “So I don’t have to ask you all the time. You go on and on about how I’ll be a man one day and have to survive out there. I’m ready for a taste of that.”

  Isaac spread his fingers and clawed at his hair. Logan was the oldest soul in existence. Yes, he was probably ready for more responsibility, but that didn’t mean that Isaac was ready. He bit back the desire to say, You’re ready when I say you’re ready. Instead, he settled for, “Absolutely not.”

  “Are you embarrassed?” Harper asked incredulously. She pulled her way around the desk to stand next to Logan, who was still seated but just barely. “No one would know he’s your son. He doesn’t even wear a nametag.” Harper put her hand on Logan’s shoulder, keeping him in the seat.

  Isaac scoffed. “They’d find out.”

  “If they did find out, they’d be impressed to see you making your kids work for things in life. Both Seth and I washed dishes at the country club the summer between our freshman and sophomore years of high school. The next year we bussed tables, and the year after that we worked in the clubhouse. Seth hauled clubs for guys who work for him now. It’s good, honest work.”

  She had a point. Darn it! “Or, they’d think the team was suffering financially and you had to press your teenaged stepson into working.”

  “Right, like that story would happen. Poor, poor billionaires.”

  “It’s my job to provide for him.” Isaac slammed his hand to his chest. “He has the whole rest of his life to be an adult—let him be a kid for as long as possible.”

  Logan slowly got to his feet. “Thanks, Harper, for sticking up for me.”

  “Logan?” Her tone begged him to not give in.