Bottom of the Ninth: Seattle Skookums Baseball (Game On in Seattle Book 6)

by Jami Davenport

  “This place looks great.”

  “Why thank you. The kids helped.” She pointed out the mismatched picture frames with crayon drawings.

  “It’s homey and comfortable.”

  She blushed, and he liked making her blush.

  The kids sat at a round table. The girls might be twins, but he didn’t have any problem telling them apart. Sophie never shut up, and Sadie never talked. Sophie ran to him, her blond hair streaming behind her, and screeched to a halt in front of him, holding up a piece of paper.

  “See?” she shouted enthusiastically. “Do you like it? If you like it, you can have it.”

  He bent down and took it from her. “It’s great.” He had no idea what it was other than a moose with a dog’s tail and bear’s burly body.

  “It’s yours.” She beamed at him, and he smiled back.

  “Thank you. I’m honored.” He looked down into the smiling face of the little girl and wondered if his priorities were skewed. He shrugged it off.

  Baseball was his mistress. He didn’t have room for anyone else in his life, nor did he want to make room.

  He walked over to the table behind Paisley, watching her cute butt in those tight jeans.

  Sadie stared up at him with luminous blue eyes filled with fear. He’d seen fear like that in a child’s eyes before, and he had a pretty good idea what caused it. If the bastard who put that fear there ever showed up in this town, Zeke would make sure they never found the body.

  He smiled at Sadie, and she ducked her head, leaning over her coloring book and shielding it from his eyes with her arms.

  “She’s shy,” Paisley explained, but Zeke knew there was more to it than that.

  His gaze landed next on the boy, who watched his every move with suspicion. Brayden’s expression brought back a flash of memory, as he recalled his oldest brother, Isaac, who’d watched their father with the same distrustful expression on his face.

  For a moment, Zeke’s world tilted and all he could see was Isaac’s young face looking so old. He leaned on the back of a chair to balance himself as he regained his equilibrium. He hadn’t been the only one in the family who’d suffered.

  Shit.

  He’d done his best to banish his family from his mind, but they sneaked back when he least expected it. He hated the thought of his brothers’ women nosing around his house. He didn’t have a clue how they’d found his home. Most likely through Bella. He’d met their sister Bella earlier in the year when he’d been staying in Fernando’s condo for a few weeks. Bella had just suffered a brutal attack and was afraid to leave the apartment to walk her dog. Her boyfriend played hockey and was gone a lot. Zeke ran into Bella at the elevator and had taken pity on her. For the next week, he’d walked the dog with her. They’d kept in touch ever since.

  During one of their conversations, he’d discovered the connection between them went further than Bella’s boyfriend and Zeke’s brother playing on the same hockey team. As if that weren’t enough, her twin sisters were the loves of his brothers’ lives. It was a small fucking world.

  Shaking off the bitterness, Zeke bent down to study Brayden’s picture. “So, Brayden, would you like tickets to tomorrow night’s game?”

  Instead of his face lighting up like most little boys, Brayden frowned, as if wondering what the catch was.

  “I have tickets for all of you. They’re great seats.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Paisley stepped forward and shot Brayden a look that clearly said be nice. Brayden’s eyes narrowed and his lower lip jutted out stubbornly.

  “I did have to do it. I’m—I’m sorry for being a jerk last night.” Zeke lowered his voice so only Paisley could hear.

  She smiled at him, lighting up his world by shining rays of sunlight into the shaded parts of his soul. He smiled back, unable to help himself despite his vows to the contrary.

  “We’d love to go, wouldn’t we, kids?”

  Sophie jumped up and down, clapping and cheering loudly. Sadie nodded without enthusiasm. Brayden frowned and concentrated on his drawing. What little boy showed more interest in a coloring book than an offer to go to a baseball game?

  “Well, uh, I guess I’ll be going.” Zeke shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted from one foot to the other, not wanting to leave, but knowing he didn’t dare stay.

  Paisley didn’t argue, but led him to the door. “Good night then.”

  He looked down at her beautiful face raised to his and wished he could kiss her. Over her shoulder, the three kids watched them. Sophie’s hands were clasped to her chest with a huge grin on her face. Sadie eyed them through lowered lashes. Brayden glared, his arms crossed belligerently over his chest.

  With a resigned sigh, Zeke escaped out the door and back to his lonely existence.

  * * * *

  The next evening, Paisley dressed the kids in the Skookums’ green and blue. She donned a Skookums T-shirt she’d splurged on earlier, and off they went to the game. Sophie chattered nonstop in the backseat of the minivan Zeke had recently purchased, and even Brayden and Sadie couldn’t resist her enthusiasm. Soon they were debating the merits of hot dogs, hamburgers, or popcorn as the best snack at a game.

  Paisley suppressed a smile. None of them had ever been to a major league ball game before. She was as excited as the kids were. The sun shone in the sky, warming the temperatures to the high sixties, the perfect weather for baseball. Feeling important, she pulled into VIP parking and flashed her pass.

  A few minutes later, they were walking into the ballpark.

  After finding their seats, Paisley purchased a hot dog for each of them. They settled in, and she finally had time to focus on something other than three rambunctious children at their first baseball game.

  Brayden gripped his battered baseball mitt in his small hands and squinted into the sun, waiting for a baseball to come his way, while Sophie waved and shouted at the mascot, a guy in a Sasquatch suit. Sitting between Sophie and Paisley, Sadie took it all in with wide eyes and leaned close to Paisley, clutching her arm.

  “It’s fine, honey. We’re perfectly safe here.”

  Sadie frowned and nibbled on her hot dog.

  Paisley sighed and put an arm around the timid little girl, feeling completely inept in the role of substitute mother, but she did the best she could. The kids were better off with her.

  Her gaze swept the field to where the players were warming up. Zeke stood near first base, throwing the ball back and forth to the other infielders with laser-sharp accuracy. He was good, really, really good, and he looked so hot in a uniform that hugged his nice ass and showed off his broad shoulders. He turned slightly and scanned the stands. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. When he nodded and smiled, she knew he’d seen them.

  Zeke turned back to the field. Only then did Paisley realize she was grinning like a fool. Brayden stared up at her with a too-knowing gaze for one so young. She looked straight ahead, refusing to let an eight-year-old make her feel guilty. She didn’t answer to Brayden. She was the adult here, not him.

  “Paisley?” said a familiar voice. Paisley turned to see the twins, Emma and Avery, standing in the aisle; behind them were two muscular, gorgeous men. Instantly Paisley knew who they were. Zeke’s brothers. She shifted her gaze to first base, but Zeke had his back to them, concentrating on fielding a ball thrown in from center.

  “Uh, hi.”

  Both men studied her, and she couldn’t stop staring. They were definitely related to Zeke—same strong chins, straight noses, and athletic builds.

  “This is my fiancé, Isaac, and his brother Tanner, Emma’s husband.”

  “Hi.” Paisley glanced nervously at the field again. Zeke still hadn’t noticed them.

  “Isaac and Tanner, this is Paisley. She works for Zeke as his live-in assistant.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Tanner said, and shook her hand. He looked down at the kids and ruffled Brayden’s tousled hair. “Hey, little man, what’s up?” Tann
er held out his fist to Brayden.

  Brayden grinned and bumped his knuckles to Tanner’s, not displaying one ounce of the surly attitude he displayed toward Zeke.

  Isaac stood back, more aloof than his obviously gregarious brother. He smiled a lukewarm smile and nodded. He didn’t appear to be one who warmed up easily to strangers.

  “The game’s about to start,” Isaac reminded them. “We need to get to our seats. We’re blocking everyone’s view.”

  They filed to their seats in the first row, and Paisley started breathing again, relieved Zeke was blissfully oblivious of this new set of spectators.

  Halfway through the second inning, Zeke ran backward to snag a fly ball near their seats. He brought it over, motioning to Brayden to come get it. Brayden forgot to be a little shit and scrambled down the steps to grab the ball from Zeke, all smiles. Zeke grinned back. His gaze swung to Paisley, and he tipped his hat to her. His gaze lowered, and she saw the exact moment he spotted his brothers, their first-row seats no more than ten feet from where he stood.

  His smile fell, to be replaced by a scowl. He stalked back to first base, and the game went to shit for him after that.

  Paisley didn’t have a clue why he harbored such dislike of his brothers, but obviously the feeling wasn’t mutual. Her heart went out to Zeke. He had to be living a lonely life with an estranged family and few friends.

  Paisley understood. She knew all about lonely.

  * * * *

  Zeke played the crappiest game of his major league career, and he was pissed as hell at himself. He’d let his bastard brothers’ appearance get under his skin. He’d succumbed to the pressure of knowing they were watching him and caved like an unstable bank in a flash flood.

  The manager pulled him from the game in the seventh inning after his third strikeout. Zeke slumped onto the dugout bench and pulled his cap lower over his eyes, glaring at anyone who ventured within a few feet. Most of the guys avoided him. Except Fernando. His buddy was immune to Zeke’s death glares.

  “What’s stuck up your ass?” Fernando sat next to him and stared at the field, but Zeke knew him well enough to know he wasn’t as intently focused on the game as he was on Zeke.

  “My fucking brothers are here.”

  “They are?”

  “Yeah, in the first fucking row right off first base.”

  “And you let them affect your game?”

  Zeke opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t their fault. It was his fault for letting them get under his skin. He was all kinds of an idiot.

  After the Skookums managed to eke out a win, no thanks to him, he took to the showers, got dressed, and went in search of Paisley. She and the kids would be waiting for him in the parking lot. He’d promised to buy them pizza. His brothers might’ve ruined the game for him, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let them ruin his night. He’d actually been looking forward to a normal night out, almost like a fake family.

  Exiting the locker room, Zeke froze. The bastards couldn’t be content with ruining his game. Hell no, they had to ambush him outside the locker room where all the world would be watching, including the press, his teammates, and his coaches.

  Ever conscious of his image and his carefully constructed family history, Zeke noted several reporters circling like vultures. Whatever his reaction, it’d be on Twitter and YouTube within a minute.

  So he did what he always did—put on a performance. Zeke forced a welcoming smile on his face and walked up to his brothers, sticking out his hand. They smiled back, though their smiles were tentative and suspicious.

  “Isaac, Tanner. Good to see you. Wish I’d played a better game.”

  Tanner glanced at the small but ever-growing group of reporters. “Good to see you, Zeke.”

  “We’ve been looking forward to having you in Seattle,” Isaac said with sincerity, which put Zeke back on his heels.

  Turning his back to the press, Zeke hardened his gaze, letting them know how he really felt. He leaned in closer and so did his brothers.

  “If you pull another stunt like this, I’m going to get a protection order. Understand?”

  Tanner frowned and Isaac’s jaw locked.

  “We’re sorry, Zeke. I know that doesn’t erase the past, but we’re brothers, and we need one another.” Isaac’s usually hard features softened with regret and something else—something Zeke didn’t want to see because it made rejecting them twice as hard.

  “I’ve moved on, but I’ll never forgive you—either of you,” Zeke growled through a tightly clenched jaw. Turning on his heel, he took a step toward freedom. “Nice to see you guys. Let’s do this again sometime.”

  He waved and left them standing there staring after him. They both looked as lost as they had on the night they’d gathered on a rain-slicked road and watched a mangled car winched up a steep bank after their sister and Isaac’s girlfriend had been carted away in body bags.

  Zeke should’ve been wound up as hell, but he wasn’t. He felt drained, as if his emotions were a sponge and his brothers had just wrung every last drop out of him, leaving him as vacant as a burned-out warehouse.

  Determined to salvage the evening and not take this surprise visit out on Paisley and the kids, he pushed out the door into the clear evening. He spotted them immediately, as the minivan he’d bought and lent to her was one of the few left in the lot.

  Paisley smiled tentatively at him. Sophie let out a screech of welcome and ran toward him, wrapping her arms around his legs as she peppered him with rapid-fire questions, never pausing long enough for him to answer. He managed to extract her enough to walk the rest of the way to the car. She skipped along beside him, chattering away. It was hard to be in a bad mood around Sophie. She took such great joy in just living her life.

  Brayden held the baseball in his glove and gifted Zeke with a lopsided smile. “Thanks for the ball.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Would you sign it?”

  “Yup. You know where to find me.” Zeke turned to Sadie, who clung to Paisley’s hand. For reasons he didn’t understand, she held a soft spot in his brittle heart. He crouched down to her level. “Are you ready for some pizza, cutie?”

  She nodded, blushed, and ducked her head.

  Zeke patted her shoulder and straightened; he tried to ignore how she flinched when he touched her. “Well, do you want to follow me? I’m not being caught dead in a minivan, and we won’t all fit comfortably in my Jag.”

  “I don’t need a car seat anymore,” Brayden informed him.

  Zeke grinned at him. “I know, but the girls do, which leaves you sandwiched between them in the backseat if we take my PACE. Do you want to go with me? Your aunt and the girls can follow.”

  Brayden nodded with enthusiasm much like Sophie’s. “Can I, Auntie Paze?”

  “Sure you can.” Paisley’s grateful smile rewarded Zeke’s spur-of-the-moment offer.

  Paisley opened a back door and helped Sadie into her car seat. She bent down, and his throat tightened at the sight of her ass outlined in a pair of tight jeans. They weren’t designer jeans, but they didn’t need to be on her. They looked fantastic.

  Brayden tugged on his shirt. “Are you going to go?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He’d been caught gawking. Hopefully, the kid wouldn’t understand what a douche he was.

  As soon as he started his engine, he realized he wasn’t so lucky.

  “Do you like Paisley?” Brayden studied him with those ancient eyes, the same eyes Zeke and his brothers had.

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  “I mean like her, like her.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, like girlfriend and boyfriend.”

  He decided he liked it better when Brayden was sullen and uncommunicative. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  Brayden rubbed his chin. “Are you gay? ’Cause if you are, that’s okay.”

  Zeke concealed his surprise. He wondered if the kid even understood what gay was. “Uh, no.”

&n
bsp; “They say you are.”

  “Well, I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t have a problem with telling you.”

  “Okay.” He folded his little hands over the baseball and glove in his lap. Zeke noted how worn and tattered the glove was, not to mention too big for the boy.

  “Do you play?”

  Brayden shook his head. “My dad wouldn’t let me play sports. Too much money and too much time.”

  “Ahhh.” This was the total opposite of Zeke’s dad, who lived vicariously through each son’s athletic prowess, because other than drinking, the man didn’t have a life.

  Zeke wondered which would’ve been worse: not being allowed to play and being stuck at home all the time with an abusive parent, or escaping to the ballpark every day all the while knowing what would come later because nothing was ever good enough for the old man, and his punishment didn’t require a crime.

  To him, the answer was a no-brainer. Staying home would’ve been descending to the lower depths of hell instead of living on the lobby level of hell’s hotel and being sent to the basement occasionally.

  “I’m sure Paisley won’t have a problem with it.”

  He shrugged, his little face all wrinkled with worry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know how to play.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you help me?” Brayden stared straight ahead, but his hands gripped the mitt and ball even tighter.

  “Uh, sure. I’d be glad to do that.” One of Zeke’s cardinal rules was “don’t get attached.” He’d done a lot of work with children’s hospitals and the Make-A-Wish Foundation. He always kept it superficial. He never became anything more than surface friends with the kids he met. He might exchange a few emails or do a few good deeds, but his participation was merely to further his nice-guy image and to atone for his past sins.

  After all, he’d done something far worse than Isaac, and the world would never know, especially his brothers.

  Seeing those two dredged up buried memories. Guilt crept up from the murky depths and lodged in his heart, bringing with it his father’s voice repeating over and over what a loser he was, how worthless he was, what a failure he was, and his all-time favorite, how it was all his fault his father was an alcoholic and his mother was dead.