"Worse." I turn to face her. "He's a baseball player."
"Holy shit, Carrie!" Her mouth falls open as she grabs me by the shoulders. "Is he one of the Kings?"
"Maybe," I hedge, giving her a small smile.
"What?" she cries out, her eyes popping out of her head. "Dad's gonna flip!"
"He'll get over it." I shrug. "That's what tonight's all about—breaking the ice, making everyone comfortable with the idea."
"Which one is it?"
I shake my head.
But she persists. "Oh, c'mon. At least give me a hint."
I wink at her. "The cute one."
"C'mon. They're all cute," she wails, shoving my arm.
"The cute, single one," I taunt her.
"Oh Carrie, please tell me it's Jake Woodbury!" She starts jumping up and down. "I LOVE Jake Woodbury!"
I crinkle my nose at her. "You too?" When there's a knock on my bedroom door, I immediately feel silly for how childish we're acting. "Yes?" I call out, shushing Alex to be quiet.
"Miss Carrie, there's a young man waiting for you in the foyer," Rosita, the maid, says through the closed door.
Alex looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer.
"Thanks, Rosita. I'll be right down."
Alex's eyes light up. "Oh my God, Jake Woodbury's downstairs…in our house! I gotta see this!" she exclaims, charging out of my room and running past Rosita before I can stop her.
"Alex, get back here!" I yell, chasing after her.
But it's too late. She comes to a grinding halt at the top of the steps, staring down at the person waiting at the bottom.
"Oh…you're not Jake," Alex mutters disappointedly.
"Afraid not," Scott laughs up at her, and my heart melts when I see that he's holding flowers.
"Oh my God, you're…" Alex trails off, pointing her finger at him.
"Alex, what's the matter with you?" I scowl at her, taking the steps two at a time as she scurries along behind me. "That's not how you welcome a guest into our home."
"But, Carrie, that's…" she stammers, grabbing onto my sleeve.
"Scott Harper," he greets her, grinning from ear to ear as we reach the foyer. "Pleased to meet you, Alex."
Alex looks at me, then at Scott, then back at me. "Dad's gonna kill you."
Scott swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
Great. She was the one person I was counting on to be on my side, and if she's not happy about this, it doesn't bode well for the rest of the evening.
Scott taps Alex on the shoulder, getting her to turn back around. "So, how did running the mile go?"
"You know about that?" she asks, bewildered.
"I tend to pay attention to the people who are important to your sister," he replies smoothly, smiling at me when I cross the foyer to stand beside him.
And that was the absolute perfect thing for him to say, because Alex just swoons.
"Aww! That's so sweet." She tilts her head to the side, watching us together.
"So…" Scott nudges Alex with his arm. "Did you run the mile in record time or what?"
"Nah. I was at the back of the pack." She hangs her head but rallies in true Alex fashion. "Honestly, I was just glad I finished. As you can see, I'm not very athletic."
"You're just beautiful, right?" Scott winks at her, using the line I'm sure has charmed the pants off more girls than I care to think about.
I fully expect Alex to call him on it, but my outspoken little sister just clasps her hands in front of her, shifting her weight from side to side. She's all flustered, her righteous indignation over his bad-boy reputation flying right out the window now that he's flirting with her in person.
When she seems too overwhelmed to say anything, I step in. "Scott, stop it. You're making her blush."
"It's the truth, Care Bear." He turns to me, raising my hand to his lips. "Beauty definitely runs in the family."
"He calls you Care Bear?" Alex hugs her arms to her chest, sighing. "How cute is that?"
Now, I'm the one who's blushing. "Yeah, I kinda like it, too," I reply, lowering my head and grinning like an idiot.
"Are those flowers for me?" Alex asks, stepping forward to take the bouquet of daffodils Scott has tucked under his arm.
"Actually, they're for your mom," he replies. "Is she around?"
I cough nervously. "Umm, my parents are in the dining room, waiting for us."
"Awesome. Let's do this." Scott responds a little too enthusiastically.
I can tell he's striving to hide how nervous he is. I smile to myself when he gallantly extends an arm to each of us.
"Ladies, lead the way."
"Mmmm, you smell incredible," Alex remarks, embarrassing the hell out of me. "Are you wearing Tom Ford for Men?"
I motion for Alex to give Scott some space, but she ignores me.
"Yeah. I got it for my brother for Christmas to up his game with the ladies, but the cocky bastard shoved the bottle right back in my face, telling me he didn't need it," Scott laughs. "How'd you know?"
"Because Alex practically lives at Bergdorf's," I reply, not wanting to bring up how my sister has proven time and time again that the men's fragrance department is the perfect place to meet hot, single guys.
"Part-time job?" Scott asks innocently enough.
"Yeah. Good one, Scott," Alex chuckles, rolling her eyes at him.
Scott looks to me for help, but I just purse my lips, none too pleased with my sister right now. Scott quickly recovers though, glancing up at the chandelier above our heads. "These are some impressive digs you've got here, Care Bear."
"Thanks," I reply, unable to meet his eye, aware of what we're about to walk into.
We reach the dining room and Reginald, our butler, steps aside to open the door for us. "Good evening, Miss McKenzie, Alex…Sir."
Scott reaches out to shake his hand. "Hey, man. Nice to meet you. But you don't have to call me sir. Scott's fine."
Reginald extends his gloved fingertips to him, looking abashed and glancing at me for assistance. "Shall I start bringing out the first course, miss?"
"Please do, Reginald. That'd be great." I reassure him.
"Very well." Reginald bows to me before moving briskly toward the kitchen.
"Wow. It's so formal around here." Scott whistles under his breath. "Do you do this every night?"
"I'm usually never around," I relate as Alex goes in ahead of us, giving us a minute. "During the season, I'm usually in some stadium, chowing down in the press box between innings."
"Like the rest of us regular folk," he jokes.
"You're well off too, Scott," I remind him. "I don't think either of us qualifies as regular folk."
"But I don't have a butler…or a maid to wash my sports bras," he teases.
"Does that bother you?" I ask, holding my breath.
"No. I'm just seeing a whole different side of you. That's all," he says, looking deeply into my eyes.
"And?"
"I'm a tad intimidated."
"You?"
He lowers his arm, and I immediately miss the warmth of his skin against mine, but what he says next really sends a chill down my spine.
"I gotta say the only time I've ever felt like this was when I met Arnold Heimlich for the first time. I guess meeting the team owner is a little like meeting the parents."
I swallow hard. "That's…comforting."
"Don't worry," he says, misreading the cause of my anxiety. "I won't embarrass you. I'm not a rookie fresh outta the minors. I've spent some time around New York's upper crust at charity events and team fundraisers and stuff like that. Maybe I even bumped into your parents a time or two."
"You probably did," I manage to eke out.
"Yeah. You mentioned your dad was in sports management. What does he do, exactly? Is he an agent or something?"
"Not quite."
I need to end this now. The anticipation is killing me. Without ceremony, I grab his hand and drag him into the room
with me. He nearly trips over his feet, not having anticipated my sudden move.
"Carrie, there you are!" my mother exclaims. "We were wondering where you—"
"Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend…Scott Harper," I blurt out, and a thundercloud passes over my dad's face once he realizes who I'm with.
"Wow. Did it get weird in here all of a sudden or is it just me?" Alex pipes up, trying her best to lighten the mood.
"Carrie, why didn't you tell me…" Scott starts, looking at me like I've led him into a trap.
"That my mom's Diane Heimlich and I'm Arnold's granddaughter?" I lower my eyes. "I guess it never came up."
"Like hell it didn't," he says angrily.
"She didn't tell us about you, either. Probably because she knew we wouldn't approve." My dad's voice cuts through the confusion like a knife, telling me in no uncertain terms how this is going to end.
But all his condescension does is spark my anger.
"I'd like to remind everyone that I am twenty-four years old," I seethe, gripping the back of my chair for support. "I have the right to choose who I want to date."
"Not under these circumstances," Dad says, cutting me off. "Carrie, what the heck has gotten into you?"
"Dad, just hear me out," I plead, moving toward him.
"The guy on the Kings with the most notorious reputation?" He hurls his napkin from his lap onto the table. "Are you kidding me?"
Scott tries to interject. "Mr. McKenzie, I know I'm probably not your first choice when it comes to dating your daughter, but—"
Shit. I knew this was going to happen. Scott has no clue that my father's always right. There's no use arguing with him.
"Scott." I reach for his arm, needing to feel him next to me, letting him know we're in this together. "You don't have to defend yourself to him."
"Oh yes, he does!" My father lashes out. "I held my tongue when it came to those photos of you kissing his bat, but I'm not going to stand for this. Carrie, I don't want you anywhere near this guy. Do you understand me?"
"Charles, simmer down," Mom whispers, looking embarrassed.
Scott sees an opportunity and takes it. "Umm…these flowers are for you, ma'am," he says, leaning over the table to give them to her.
"They're lovely," she remarks, holding them to her face. "Thank you, Scott."
Mom doesn't seem as mortified as Dad. Maybe she was a little taken aback at first, but she's not being outwardly rude to Scott. Not the way Dad is.
I round on my father. "Dad, just so you know, getting together for dinner was Scott's idea. He wanted to meet you and do this right. He just didn't know what he was getting himself into. He had no idea who my family was. Honest."
"Let's just sit down before the soup gets cold," Mom urges as Reginald sets a bowl down in front of her.
But Scott hesitates, making my heart constrict.
"Please don't leave," I whisper to him, begging him to give this a try. "I promise I'll explain everything later."
He sits down, but he doesn't look too happy about it.
"So, Scott, you have quite the hitting streak going there," Mom says to him once we take our places at the table. "I know my father's very excited about it."
"He…he is?" Scott sputters, clearly shocked that my grandfather's taking such an interest in him.
"You bet he is!" Mom enthuses, giving Scott a big smile. "I know he's not well enough to visit the clubhouse as much as he used to. His stroke really limited his mobility, and he detests being seen in a wheelchair, but I'm sure he'd love to be there every night to watch you play."
"That's nice to hear, Mrs. McKenzie," Scott replies, holding my mother's gaze and smiling back at her.
"Please call me Diane. Besides, we've already met on a few occasions, haven't we?"
I look up in surprise. I didn't know that.
"Yep," Scott confirms. "I believe the last time I saw you was on a float during the ticker tape parade after we won the World Series."
"Wasn't that wonderful?" Mom gushes. "I think that win was my favorite, what with Sasha Roberts being the first female player and all."
Scott takes a sip of water, raising his glass to her. "Hopefully, we'll get back there again this year."
"I hope so," Mom replies, clinking her glass to his. "I know we're well on our way if you keep hitting the ball the way you are."
"Yeah, but it's still early," Scott says, scrunching up his face.
"Scott Harper, modest? Who would've thought?" Dad interrupts, glaring at him from across the table.
"But after all that happened in spring training, I think the pundits thought you'd crack under the stress of it all, but you've persevered and risen above the scandal," Mom remarks, quickly coming to his defense. "That's what my father likes to see in his players. You never know what New York's going to throw at you. You have to be ready and stay the course, and you've done just that."
"Oh, c'mon, Diane," Dad groans. "You're saying you're proud of him? Give me a break. He gave the team a lot of unnecessary headaches, ones I had to deal with."
"I'm sorry for that, sir. I never intended to make your life difficult," Scott says, trying to be the bigger man and own up to his mistakes.
"Well, you did, Harper," Dad retorts, demonstrating that he's not the kind of guy who thinks people can change. "My wife may be part-owner of the team, but I'm a senior vice president, and I have been for nearly thirty years now. What you did tarnished the brand we've worked so hard to establish. You might think it's cool that you were caught posing naked with a bunch of famous women, but we're a family team, and you made a lot of fans uncomfortable with your antics."
"You're right, sir. I did, and I apologize."
"But the damage is done. If those photos become your legacy now, what do you intend to do about it?" Dad gripes.
"Forge a new legacy."
"How, exactly?"
"I'm gonna break DiMaggio's record," Scott replies matter-of-factly.
But his belief in himself only causes Dad to laugh bitterly. "You really are all ego, aren't you?"
"I'm serious, sir. With your daughter by my side"—Scott pauses, reaching for my hand—"I can do anything."
"You don't have what it takes, Harper," Dad snaps, clearly not liking how Scott is touching me.
I wince, having a good idea of the kind of tirade he's about to unleash, and I hold on to Scott's hand as tight as I can.
"Harper, what are you going to do when you get to the twentieth game and it's the eighth inning and you still don't have a hit? I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to choke. You're going to try to showboat your way out of a jam by swinging for the fences instead of going for a bloop single or running out a bunt. Because that's the kind of guy you are. You're all flash and no substance. You're not like Chase or Brooks or Jilly…or even Sasha. You shouldn't even be mentioned in the same breath as Joe DiMaggio."
"Charles, that's enough!" Mom cries out.
"C'mon, Diane. He's not fooling anybody!" Dad shouts back. "Your father didn't even want to sign him, or don't you remember? He likes hard-nosed players who bust their asses to get a hit and make the tough plays look easy. Guys who play the game the right way, who are dedicated."
"I'm dedicated," Scott affirms, his eyes steely, daring my father to contradict him.
But Dad's heard enough. "I can't sit here and listen to this," he says, getting up from the table.
"Where are you going?" Mom questions him, her voice deadly calm.
"Back to the office. I'll grab something on the way." He huffs as though Scott's the one who's driving him away from his own dinner table.
"Mr. McKenzie, let me finish," Scott implores, standing up.
"I think you've said just about enough, Harper," Dad snarls, jabbing a finger into Scott's chest. "And if a naked photo of you and my daughter turns up somewhere, God help you. No team in baseball will touch you—not if I have anything to say about it."
He storms out as the rest of us stare awkwa
rdly at each other. I push my chair back and hesitantly run my hand up and down Scott's arm, not sure what to do. But like she always does, Mom knows how to ease the tension my father created.
"Don't mind him, Scott." She waves her hand in the air like she can't be bothered by her husband's theatrics. "He's just upset."
"More like a raging control freak," I mutter sarcastically.
"Carrie," Mom warns me, not wanting to get into it now.
When Scott still doesn't say anything, I know I need to get him out of here. This was a terrible mistake. I should have told him about my family ahead of time before inviting him over. I blink rapidly, realizing that it's too late now. The damage is done.
"Mom, I think we're going to go, too," I say, pulling Scott with me toward the door.
"Oh, don't leave, Scott," Alex moans.
"We'll hang out again soon, Alex. I promise," he reassures her, giving me hope that all is not lost.
I follow up on his suggestion. "Yeah, Alex. When you're done with school, maybe you can come with me to more of the games."
Mom crosses the room to give us a hug goodbye. "Please don't let my husband get to you, Scott. He's very territorial when it comes to protecting his daughters."
"I understand, and please know that I would never do anything to hurt Carrie," he replies earnestly, making my heart leap.
"I know that, Scott," Mom replies, taking his face in her hands. "But it's good to hear you say it."
"Goodnight, ma'am," he says softly, patting her shoulder.
"Bye, Scott!" Alex yells as he gives her a wave, leading me out the door.
"This was such a bad idea," I groan, wishing I could undo the last fifteen minutes of my life.
"Well, you didn't exactly give me a heads-up before we walked in there," Scott levels at me, loosening his tie.
"Would you have changed your mind if I had?" I ask, turning to look at him.
"No, but…" He groans, struggling under the weight of it all.
My dad threw the book at him. He threatened Scott, questioned his integrity, called him a sub-par player. He used every means at his disposal to cut him down to size. Where do I even start to try to make up for that?
I take a deep breath. "Well, it's all out in the open now. At least everyone knows where they stand."
"Until your father trades my ass to another team in order to keep me away from you."
Perfect Game Page 13