by Tabatha Kiss
“I’m the oldest of three,” he says. “My mom had my little sister when I was fifteen, so I remember the details pretty well. The most important thing to realize is that yes, she’s pregnant, and yes, that thing is probably dominating most of her thoughts all the time, but she’s still a woman. She’s still a person. And, as I shockingly discovered one afternoon when I came home from school early and walked in on her and my dad at the wrong moment, she still has needs.”
I laugh. “Sounds traumatic.”
He shivers. “It’s burned in there, man. Anyway, the point is, I thought the same thing when I found out she was having another kid but, in the end, she was still my mom. That never changed.”
“I must say, Devin,” I grin. “That’s oddly poignant.”
“There’s more to this pitcher than a good arm,” he says, flexing his thick bicep. “I also have a heart of gold and balls of steel — as that hot, redheaded reporter will soon find out.”
“She’s all yours, buddy.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. You focus on your baby mama and her needs.”
“I will.”
He slaps my shoulder before standing up. “I’m going back to bed. You cool?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m cool.”
I sit alone, staring forward across the parking lot. My mind wanders from one place to the next, never quite slowing down long enough for me to feel better.
Daisy’s still a person. She’s still a woman. She has needs.
And I know next to nothing about her.
That should scare me, but a rush of excitement rattles my nerves. I adore what I do know about Daisy Hawthorne and I’m honestly eager to learn more. She’s worth taking a second look.
I can do that.
Chapter 13
Daisy
“You’re Daisy Hawthorne?”
I grin and extend my hand to her. “Yes,” I answer. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”
Trisha Wells slides her thick, pink sunglasses off and stares back at me with a raised brow. Her eyes dart from my face to my shoes and back again, sizing me up and I feel my cheeks burning beneath her gaze. Rose and I settled on a tasteful, professional outfit this morning. Black slacks, navy blue top with a casual jacket that can easily be removed if needed. And flats. Glorious, comfortable flats.
Finally, Trisha smiles and lays her hand in mine. “You are just as adorable as your name suggests you should be,” she says, shaking my hand.
“Thank you,” I say.
“How old are you?”
“Uh…” I think for a second. “Twenty-five.”
“You’re kidding.” She gawks at me. “What product do you use?”
“Whiskey, mostly.”
Trisha throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, honey…” She wipes her eyes with the tip of her pinky. “I like you.”
“Thanks.”
She spins on her stiletto heels and walks out of the motel lobby. I pause for a moment, slightly confused before I rush to follow her into the parking lot with my suitcase dragging behind me. She flicks her car keys from her purse and pops the trunk, throwing it open and stepping to the side like it’s some treasure chest or something.
“Here’s your gear, Daisy,” she says. “Don’t break it.”
I blink for a second, recognizing the logos from only my most insane, dream wish lists. I practically salivate at the DSLR camera, along with four different lenses to pick and choose from.
“I assume you know how to use them?” she asks, studying the shock in my face.
“Oh, of course,” I say, partially lying. I bend down and grab the camera case, along with the extra one beside it full of other gear and memory cards labeled property of SI in tiny, stamped letters.
“The article will mainly focus on Mr. Novak but feel free to catch some candids of the team when you can. If you must include me in a shot, only shoot from my left side, please.”
“No problem.”
“Well, go ahead and get that fired up. The team is boarding the bus.”
I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of the team as they slowly make their way out of the motel rooms with their duffel bag slung over their shoulders. Reality takes hold of me, rattling my bones, and I wonder just when it’ll all come crashing down. Part of me thinks I’m just going to wake up in that hospital bed with a splitting headache and none of this would have ever happened.
I see Hunter before Trisha does, walking out of his room with his head down, shadows falling over his face as the early-afternoon sun strikes his baseball cap.
“Oh, there he is!” she squeals. “Come on.”
I panic for a second, searching the camera exterior for an on-switch as I trail slowly behind her. Luckily, I find it and flick it on before we reach Hunter.
“Home Run Hunter!” Trisha slides out in front of him, forcing him to stop before crashing into her.
He throws on a smile for her and nods. “Ms. Wells.”
I raise the camera and adjust the focus on his chiseled face before snapping my very first picture of him.
Hunter reacts to the shutter sound and he spots me standing behind Trisha. He smiles at me, his lips spreading even wider than they did for Trisha. “Hey, Daisy.”
“Hey, Hunter,” I greet.
Trisha clears her throat and motions for me to move to her left side. I slide over, quickly remembering her “good” angle as I ready the camera again. “So, Hunter,” she says, hooking her arm around his. “Are you as eager to get started as I am?”
I pause, watching to see if Hunter will slip free of her but he just keeps walking with her pace. My finger clicks a few successive photos of the two of them, each one drawing his eyes my way. He fires a wink at me and I smile behind the camera.
“Yes, Ms. Wells,” he answers her.
“Oh, please, honey,” she coos. “Call me Trisha. We’re going to be very close by the end of this season. Might as well get on first name terms right now.”
“Okay, Trisha…”
I linger behind them, snapping a few shots of the bus and other players before joining up with them.
“By the way,” I hear her say, “everything you say to me is on the record unless you tell me otherwise beforehand.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.
She leans in a little closer and I lose track of her voice as it drifts into his ear. Finally, he steps out of her grasp and offers her a kind smile as he moves away to load his bag into the side with the rest of the team’s luggage.
“Daisy!”
I twitch at her sudden bark. Trisha flags me closer and I pick up my pace to catch up. “Yeah?”
“How well do you know him?” she asks me, peeking at me over her pink frames.
“Uh…” I chuckle. “Somewhere between not very well and kind of. Why?”
“Just hoping you can fill in blanks for me, if needed. These guys tend to get a little hushed when it comes to the good details — the kind of things readers really want to know about.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say.
“You’re in the big leagues now, honey,” she says, spinning around to climb onto the bus. “It’s expected.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously. I could fire you.”
I nod as she disappears up the stairs.
“How are you feeling?”
My lips curl at the sound of his voice and I raise my camera as I turn around, snapping an awkward close-up as he hovers over me. “A little better,” I say, letting the camera hang from my neck. “My head still hurts a bit, but I’ve got some doctor-approved, baby-safe, painkillers to help knock it out.”
Hunter nods, his eyes flicking down for a brief instant, no doubt jarred at the casual way I threw baby-safe in there. Honestly, it kind of stuns me, too. “Good,” he says.
“So…” I scan the windows above us for Trisha but she’s chatting up the coach at the back of the bus. “She’s certainly got her eye on you.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” he chuckles. “I’m not interested, though.”
“Really?” I ask, trying not to seem too excited.
He lowers his voice. “She reminds me of my mom.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, she’s from Georgia, so she’s got that southern belle accent going on, too. She also used to dye her hair like that…”
I laugh. “Good news for me, I guess.”
He pauses, once again dropping his eyes to look the entire length of me. “I meant what I said last night, Daisy. I’m in.”
I smile, feeling that rush of warmth from my fingers to my toes. I clear my throat. “Speaking of mothers… you haven’t told yours about any of this yet, right?”
“Me? No.”
“Good,” I nod. “I’ve only told my sister. Begged her to secrecy and she’s not one to blab, so…”
“I haven’t told anybody,” he says. “Well, except Devin.”
“Devin?”
“I’m Devin.”
I flinch and look up to see a man with his head sticking out the window, staring down at us with a wide, clown-like grin and slick, black hair.
Hunter rolls his eyes. “Daisy, Devin. Devin, Daisy.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Daisy Hawthorne,” Devin says, holding his hand over his heart. “You have my word.”
“Um…” My eyes flick between them. “Thank you.”
His head retreats back inside and he slides the window closed, leaving us alone again and I blink at Hunter.
He shrugs. “He’s cool. Don’t worry.”
“Okay…” He leans over and grabs my suitcase, sliding it into the back with the rest of them. “Thanks.”
“Shall we?”
“We shall…”
I turn to board the bus, falling in line behind Hunter and the rest of the team. As we step up, a few of them let out cheers and offer high-fives to Hunter as he passes them by. I take the opportunity to snap a few photos of him from the back, catching the looks of admiration and loyalty from his teammates. He’s obviously well-respected among them and who could blame them?
“Yoo-hoo!” Trisha calls out. “Hunter! You’re back here with me, honey.”
Those looks of admiration turn to winks of approval from the remaining players but I try not to let that get to me. Hunter told me he was in. He looked me in the eyes and said it to my face. I don’t have to worry about Trisha Wells digging her perfectly-painted claws into him but my gut still twists a bit as he slides into the seat beside her.
I take the aisle seat across from him, quickly realizing that I’ve settled in next to Devin.
“Cocoa butter,” he says, flashing a quick wink at me.
I pause. “I’m sorry?”
“For the stretch marks. My mother swore by the stuff. Gotta keep things moisturized.”
“Oh…” I force a smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stand up again to stick the camera cases in the overhead compartment but immediately feel a presence over my shoulder.
Hunter slides his fingers into the handles and smiles. “I got it.”
I let go and watch him reach overhead, easily packing them away for me as I sit back down.
I’ll probably have to get used to this kind of thing. Hunter’s critique of me last night was pretty spot-on. I’ve spent my entire adult life taking care of myself, turning down help and turning my nose up at anybody who offered. Something tells me Hunter Novak isn’t going to put up with that. He’s far too chivalrous.
“So!” Trisha grins at Hunter as he sits back down. “I want to spend a few days getting to know you, Hunter. Just a little bit of off-the-record chatter. My best exposés are always the ones I felt like I had a real connection with the subject.”
“Sounds good,” he says, shifting in his seat as she leans a bit too close.
I stare at the two of them with my camera in hand, taking a quick photo here and there as the bus starts moving.
“Let’s get the most obvious, cliché question out of the way first,” Trisha says. “Boxers or briefs?”
I chortle. “Briefs.”
Trisha stares in my direction with a raised brow, looking a little impatient at the sudden interruption. I glance between them, sinking back into my seat as Hunter laughs with his eyes.
“Just a wild guess,” I say, raising the camera again to hide behind it.
“Yeah, actually,” Hunter says. “I’m a briefs kind of guy.”
“Excellent,” Trisha says, throwing her attention at him again. “Are you single?”
He pauses with his mouth slightly open, resisting the urge to look at me as he thinks it through. “Uhh…”
“Oh, here we go!” She rubs her palms together. “You sound… unsure. Did you leave some heartbroken, young thing behind here when you joined the New Jersey team?”
“Oh, no…” he chuckles. “I didn’t leave her behind. In fact, you could probably say that I left a little piece of myself behind with her…”
I smile as I snap another photo.
“Well, she obviously hasn’t been too much of a distraction for you,” Trisha notes. “I doubt you’d be so good at baseball if you were constantly thinking about her instead.”
I pause, studying Hunter to see how he answers.
“I think about her a lot, actually,” he says.
“Is she the one that got away?”
“Not necessarily,” he says, finally glancing at me but he doesn’t let it linger for too long. “She’s… the one that’s hard to forget. I’ll say that much.”
Blood rushes to my face. I can’t help but wonder if that’s true or if he’s just playing up the angle for Trisha’s benefit.
Trisha chews on her lip for a moment, thinking hard. “You grew up in Hartford, right?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
“Well, did you get a chance to see her while you were in town for the last few games?”
“I did,” he nods. “She showed up at the stadium and we had a good… chat.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me in on the details of that little chat, would you?”
He smiles. “No.”
Trisha leans closer to him and runs a finger up his arm. “Oh, no problem, honey. I’ve got the rest of the season to pry that out of you and, believe me, what Trisha Wells wants, she usually gets.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he says, clearing his throat. He looks in my direction, his eyes bouncing between me and Devin behind me.
“Hey, Trisha!” Devin says, leaning forward. “You know, I’ve been on the road with the guy for a while now. I’d be happy to sit down with you sometime soon and tell some good stories — maybe over a cup of coffee or some breakfast.”
Trisha looks right through him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she says dryly.
“Excellent.” He winks at her and sits back in his seat.
The interruption seems to have been enough to distract her interest. Trisha takes out of her phone and scrolls through emails while Hunter enjoys the peaceful silence for a few minutes. Eventually, he takes out his own phone and I feel mine vibrate in my pocket.
Take a walk with me tonight?
I glance around, careful for spying eyes as Hunter looks at me for an answer. His eyes flash with expectation and devious playfulness. Even my senses tingle a bit at the idea of having a secret conversation under everyone’s noses.
I send a text back to him.
You asking me on a date?
I peek at him again and his lips curl as he nods at me.
My fingers move discretely, tapping another reply.
Sure. But no sex.
He reads it and throws on a pouty face.
I raise an amused brow and send another text.
We should take things slow.
Hunter nods again as his thumbs tap at his screen.
Agreed. I’ll pick you up at nine.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and smile at him across
the aisle.
Chapter 14
Hunter
I knock on her door and wait.
I shouldn’t be nervous but I am. I shouldn’t be thinking about the fact that she’s pregnant with my kid but I am. There’s a whole lot about this situation that just shouldn’t be but there’s nothing I can do about that right now. The only thing I can do — that either of us can do — is take a deep breath and start from the beginning, like we both agreed.
The door opens and Daisy smiles at me.
“Hey,” she says. “Come on in.”
I step inside, quickly glancing over my shoulder for witnesses before closing the door behind me. “Ready to go?” I ask.
“Yes,” she answers, stepping into a pair of shoes lying on the floor near the bed.
I look around the room and I chuckle at the state of it. Clothes of every color lie draped over the chairs or tossed on the floor by the mirror in the bathroom.
“What?” she snaps, staring daggers at me as she slips on her jacket.
“We’ve only been here a few hours.”
“So?”
“How do you trash a motel room in a few hours?”
“Oh, please,” she laughs, “this is nothing. You should see my apartment.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” She throws her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
We step out and she locks the door behind us. We head down the balcony and round the corner towards the stairs but a head of long, red hair in front of my door stops us in our tracks.
Daisy hops back. “Oh, shhh—”
She grabs my hand and yanks me with her. We disappear behind the corner before Trisha notices we’re here. Daisy covers her mouth to silence her chuckles and I lay a finger over my lips as I peek around with one eye.
Trisha knocks on my door, posing elegantly with her cleavage arranged in just the right way. After a few seconds of impatience, she knocks again, this time louder and faster. Finally, she rolls her big, painted eyes and marches away, stomping down the stairs to her own room on the first floor.
“Wow…” Daisy mutters. “She wants it.”