Her head was high, her eyes blazing with confidence. How could her parents not see how amazing she was? So strong and brave. Tag knew the kind of fortitude it took to stand up to the people you loved—the people who were supposed to love you no matter what—when they said you weren’t good enough. If he’d had half her courage as a kid, maybe his life would’ve been different.
Tag reached out for M. J.’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and turned to face Mr. and Mrs. Rooney. “I love M. J. just the way she is. In fact, I love her because she is the way she is.”
He felt heat from her stare on the right side of his face. It crawled over his cheek until it engulfed his head. He’d said he loved her out loud in a way that really couldn’t be misconstrued.
Sweat beaded Tag’s brow and he felt the tingle in his palms. His natural instinct was to shrink back, avoid the discomfort, and let go of M. J.’s hand. Instead he took a deep breath and squeezed it tighter.
He wasn’t going to run from this relationship.
Chapter Sixteen
M. J. had never been so happy to know Tag lived in the suburbs a short drive away from her parents. She just wanted to be alone with him, to thank him, to talk to him.
As she sat beside him in the car, listening to a radio broadcast of an away baseball game, she went over the evening in her head. He’d kept up conversation with her parents when she couldn’t manage to do the same. He’d complimented her football playing . . . and her legs. She looked out the passenger side window to hide her smile. Of course, he’d done more than compliment her with those words—he’d defended her, too. That felt good. Really good. Almost as good as hearing the L-word on his lips.
I love M. J. just the way she is.
But maybe she was reading too much into it. He hadn’t expressed a similar sentiment since. In fact, he was uncharacteristically quiet. Though dinner with her parents could have that effect on people. They’d pretty much shut down after she spoke her mind, leading to a hasty dessert and early exit. It didn’t matter. She really was done trying to please them, and Tag had helped her see that it was time to say that.
She looked at him, so handsome, and so much stronger than he knew. Slipping a hand behind his neck, she moved closer until her lips were just below his ear.
“Thank you,” she said, placing a kiss on his cologne-scented cheek.
He reached up and cupped her face, holding her there. “For what?”
“For everything you did to keep me from losing my mind.”
“Anytime.” He turned his head just enough to meet her lips.
When she resettled in her seat, her heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the chaste kiss. How long had she known him? She used games played to keep track of the time. The season started in early April. She fell right around then, because she was cleared in time for the home opener. It was May, late May. Seven weeks? Was that enough time to see your future alongside someone else’s?
They’d had enough time to develop a friendship and start a physical relationship, to break apart and come back together again. They’d had enough time to know things were easier—better—when they were together. When he was down, she propped him up, and he did the same for her. When they were both up, her life was fuller than it had ever been. That was what partnerships were about—not changing someone to fit a preferred mold, not leaving them behind when they didn’t. Love.
She squeezed her hands together in her lap. What if she did love him? What happened next? There were little things, technicalities that tripped up relationships all the time. Seemingly compatible couples fought over careers. They separated over things like religions . . . or kids. She looked out the window again.
She was so far ahead of this game she feared she was about to blow it before the snap, but still, she opened her mouth and the words tumbled out. “Can I ask you something?”
Tag smiled at her, but it was a shaky smile. “I think I know what you’re going to ask me.”
“You do?” Her face heated.
“Yep, but go ahead.”
She took a deep breath. “Do you ever think about having kids?”
His eyebrows rose, like she’d surprised him with the question. Her heartbeat stuttered.
“Sometimes,” he said, his brows lowering to a more speculative position. The car slowed as he pulled into his driveway and the garage door lifted. He looked at her with the same considering expression on his face, but it was like he was staring straight through her. “Especially after seeing Jordon’s son.” He blinked, and his gaze flitted over her face. “After everything I’ve been through, I think I’d be a good dad.”
If he stood up for his kids the way he stood up for her, definitely. “I think you would be, too.”
“How about you? Do you want kids?”
He was smiling again, that lopsided grin that drew her to him in the first place, the look that said he somehow knew something enjoyable that she didn’t.
“I do. Someday.” That day was far, far away, and she was crazy for even bringing this topic up, like it was the crux of a job interview. What was she going to do, grill him about religion next?
She looked straight ahead as he pulled into the garage. “Being with my parents makes me think of those things,” she said, hoping to reasonably justify the conversation with something other than love and marriage. Two things she hadn’t been sure she’d ever wanted . . . until Tag.
A mountain bike hung on the back wall alongside golf clubs and a snow shovel. Her palms continued their manic squeezing. This was not the sort of life she imagined. Luxury cars, suburban neighborhoods, and a neat freak. Her version went more like: economy cars, warehouse districts, and a rescue cat who wouldn’t mind being left home alone every other weekend.
Tag opened her car door and offered his hand.
Could she be happy here? Was he happy here?
“Do you think you’ll always live in the suburbs?” she asked.
His grin was positively lethal, deepening the V-shape of his jaw and sparkling in his eyes. “Miss Rooney, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were entertaining thoughts of settling down with me.” The same brows that rose with surprise a moment ago were bobbing with amusement.
She shoved him playfully. There was no use hiding it now. “What if I am?”
“Then that would be excellent.” His mouth met hers in a silky brush that tickled her skin and curled her toes. “And to answer your other question: wherever you lead, I will follow.”
Her insides melted. “You have no idea the kind of power you are giving me.”
“Oh, yes I do.” Tag gripped her hand and led her up the stairs.
The light over the stove was on, illuminating their way into the kitchen. It struck M. J. as such a sweet, old-fashioned thing to do. This man without the usual hang-ups about gender roles and expectations was still traditional enough to leave a light on like her grandmother used to do. Simple and sweet. He defied logic, and she loved that about him. She loved all of him.
“I love you,” she said, facing him. The words were straight and to the point, and just how she liked her tequila—without a chaser. No stipulations, no restrictions, no suggestion that she would love him more if he could only just change this one little thing.
Tag closed the gap between them, sliding arms around her waist, pressing her body against his, sighing against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck.
“You said it at dinner, and I, well . . . maybe that was just for my parents’ benefit,” she said, wanting desperately to project some strength and independence in this moment of incredible vulnerability.
“What if I do, and it wasn’t?” he whispered, licking the curve of her ear.
“Then that.” she said with a shudder, “would be excellent.”
It didn’t erase any bumps in the road ahead. After all, she still had a championship to win. But knowing the feeling was mutual sure did make for a magical night.
In fact, she doubted anything could top it.
>
• • •
Love was a strange sort of thing, one that made Tag send mushy text messages in between patients and hide in Jordon’s guest room bath just to have a private conversation with M. J. while he was away. Being apart for a few days was difficult after seeing her almost every day for two weeks, but it was the right thing to do—for both of them. This article and photo shoot were the ultimate show of solidarity with his brothers, and M. J. needed alone time to prepare for the championship game looming over next weekend.
Besides, he’d be back in Cleveland tomorrow.
When Tag finally rejoined the group on the sprawling deck behind Jordon and Maggie’s Lake Norman home, he missed M. J. even more. She would’ve loved this scenery. Beyond the gently sloping, lush, green yard, a couple jet skis carved the shiny water. The sun blazed, turning everything it touched into a sparkling version of itself, including Jordon’s new speedboat.
“I don’t understand how you can buy a boat like that and never take it out,” Grey teased.
“You’re more than welcome to take her out. I don’t mind sharing.” Jordon grinned.
“We are talking about the boat, aren’t we?” Grey winced when Maggie backhanded him in the gut from her seated position.
“Hey! I thought you were a pacifist,” he complained as he rubbed his stomach—with a damn-near fully operational right hand.
Tag smiled and leaned forward, snagging a grape from the tray in the middle of the table.
“How’s M. J.?” Nel asked, never taking her eyes off the sleeping baby in her arms. One of Braydon’s chubby legs rested in her palm, and she stroked his skin with her thumb. Every once in a while, Tag caught her stealing a wistful look at Grey. Babies had that effect on people.
“She’s good,” he said, entertaining a few mental images of M. J. in Nel’s place. Only they turned comical when the woman in his head tucked the baby against her side in a classic football hold. “She’s practicing hard through the bye week and focusing on the next game. It’s the ‘biggest game of her mother-freaking career’—a direct quote.” He chuckled.
“We’ll be there,” Nel said, which was reasonable since the game was in Pittsburgh, but it was an incredibly nice gesture all the same.
“Thank you.”
Before Tag could add how much it would mean to M. J., Grey elbowed Jordon who was standing alongside him, leaning on the deck railing. “You guys should come in,” he said. “Just an overnight trip if that’s all you can swing.”
“I would like to see her play,” Jordon said. “But I have to be in Guatemala the Monday following, which reminds me . . . ” He pointed at Tag. “I need to talk to you about this pitcher I’m going to see. The kid has some genetic malformity. I don’t have all the details, but longevity of the arm could be an issue. Anyhow, that’s neither here nor there. Maybe I could work it so I was flying out of Pittsburgh straight to Guatemala.” He rested his gorilla-like hands on Maggie’s lithe shoulders. “What would you say to that?”
She tilted her head until she was looking at him. “I’m flexible.”
“Baby, I know you are.” He kissed her amid Grey’s gagging sounds.
Tag laughed.
“Then it’s settled,” Nel said. “We are the official M. J. Rooney cheering section. Ooh! And I’ll ask my family to come so we’re extra loud.”
“M. J. will love that,” Tag said.
Truth be told, he loved it, too—the support, the camaraderie, the connection. Being a part of the Kemmons family wasn’t a curse after all. It filled in the holes of his life and completed him—like M. J. did.
Tag breathed deeply as he settled back in his chair and stared at the postcard-worthy lake scene. The empty chair beside him took on symbolic meaning.
“If they win this game, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
Maggie squealed, waking the baby and scaring the crap out of Tag, whose heart rate was already high.
Nel passed Braydon to Maggie and landed in the empty seat beside Tag. “I love this idea. Did you buy the ring?”
Tag roughed a hand over his face. “No. I just thought of it actually.”
“It’s so romantic,” Maggie cooed. “How do you think you’ll do it?”
“He doesn’t know. He just thought of it,” Jordon said, chuckling. “Sorry, man, but now you’re stuck, because these two will hound you until you do it.”
Tag managed a weak smile. “I have no idea how I’m going to do it. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Babe, help the man,” Nel said, her eyes sparkling at the man who walked up behind her. “Grey is the master of romantic gestures.”
“Master . . . ” Jordon mused. “Does that mean he uses whips and chains?”
“Hush,” Maggie said.
“You know what I mean, Jordon,” Nel shot him a pointed look and then turned her attention back to Tag, laying a hand on his forearm. “Grey proposed on the day that we met with the real estate attorney to add me to the deed of the house. After everything was final, he placed a ring of keys in my hand, and told me the decorative keychain was special, and it was . . . really elaborate, all sparkly and colorful, and hanging in the very middle was this.” She flashed her left hand at Tag, showing off an impressive diamond. “And then . . . ” She gripped his arm, “he said, ‘You have my heart. You have my home. Now, have my ring.’”
Maggie sighed.
Nel smiled as she wiped a tear from her eye and reached behind her to grab hold of Grey’s hand.
“Sap,” Jordon teased.
Tag nodded. “I don’t know if I can pull off something that smooth.”
“Bro, it’s easy,” Grey said, puffing out his chest a bit. “You give the ring to the referee and have him hand it to her at the coin toss.”
“And then she loses the game because she’s in emotional shock. Nice,” Jordon said.
A heavy ball of nerves settled in Tag’s stomach, but his heart thudded a normal beat. “Agreed. And keep in mind, she could always say no.”
Nel gasped. “Why would she do that?”
“We haven’t been together that long. Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”
Conspiratorial glances tossed around the table.
“Dude, you are asking the wrong bunch that question,” Grey said.
“Do you love her?” Maggie asked.
Grey and Jordon groaned.
“Are we going to need a couch for this?” Grey asked. “Or can he just lie down on the deck?”
“Smart ass,” Maggie said, but she was smiling. “Answer the question, Tag.”
“Yes, I love her.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but Jordon beat her to the next question. “Does she love you?” He smiled at his wife. “See, I’m learning from watching you.” She smacked a quick kiss to his lips, cradling their child between them.
Tag wanted a moment like that with M. J. more than he wanted his next breath.
“Does she?” Nel asked, repeating Jordon’s question.
“She does,” Tag said, remembering her beautiful face when she blurted the words in his kitchen. At the memory alone his body swelled with so much joy he thought he might explode.
“Then she’s not going to say no,” Nel said.
Heads nodded around the table, making the sentiment unanimous.
“So, bro . . . go big or go home,” Grey said.
“At least let her finish the game,” Jordon added.
“That could work!” Nel sat up so fast the back of her chair shook. “What if you proposed after the game?”
Tag imagined himself standing outside the locker room door with a ring in hand. It seemed cheesy somehow. Probably because in his mind he was flanked by his family, which was appropriate, considering they were active participants in the planning.
He smiled at the crew around the table, waiting for his response. “Okay.” He put up his hands to halt the cheers. “If she wins, I’ll propose after the game. I’ll have the ring with me, and I’ll figure out how I’m goi
ng to do it and what I’m going to say between now and then, but if they lose, I’m going to wait for a happier day, so you’ll have to be prepared to keep quiet a little longer.”
And he’d have to be prepared to be a nervous wreck until the day she said yes.
Chapter Seventeen
M. J. pushed in her earphone buds and settled her head in the crook between her seat back and the bus window. She didn’t feel like talking. Championship pursuits were a great conversation killer.
The classic rock music drowned out thought—most of it. As she stared at the edge of the parking lot where the asphalt met the trees, X’s and O’s aligned in playbook formation. It was no surprise. She saw this stuff in her sleep. With any luck, that was exactly what would be happening for the next two hours while the bus made its way to Pittsburgh. Then she’d wake up ready for team and media meetings.
A bony object dug into her shoulder, and she turned to see Tanya, waving a piece of paper in one hand and gesturing for M. J. to take her earphones out with the other.
“Yeah?” M. J. asked, pulling one bud from her ear.
“Can you get Doc to sign this?”
M. J. took the rolled piece of paper fluttering in front of her face and locked eyes with a gorgeous Tag, stethoscope hanging loosely around the neckline of his white coat. Beside him on the right, stood Grey in full uniform, leaning on the end of a baseball bat. On the other side of Tag stood Jordon decked out in an impressive business suit. Neither one of the men smiled. The crisp, white background made them leap off the page, along with the title in rich, red, block letters: The Kemmons Connection: How One Family Is Taking Major League Baseball by Storm.
The breath caught in her throat, forcing her to press her lips together so she didn’t make some embarrassing sound.
“Kinda cool, huh?” Tanya sat in the empty seat beside M. J.
The bus jerked to start, and still M. J. stared at the piece of printer paper in her hand. “It’s not due on stands for a few days. Where’d you get this?”
“Online. I was messing around in the gym office before I headed over here. They had it up as a subscription teaser. Didn’t you get a sneak peak from Doc?”
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