"Sorry, man." I shake my head at him. "I don't throw down when it comes to brawling with a teammate. We've got a long season ahead of us, and I wouldn't wanna have to hurt you."
"More like you don't wanna jeopardize your damn hitting streak," he spits back. "I never pegged you for a pussy, Harper."
A lot of the guys snicker at that, but I ignore them.
"Like I said, I don't fight with teammates," I say, holding firm. "Never have, never will."
Reisenberg stalks over to me, getting right in my face. "You better hope that I don't catch you alone somewhere, asshole, 'cause I'd hate to have to mess up that pretty-boy face of yours. You ain't in New York anymore, Harper. No one's got your back out here."
He shoves me again, and I clench my fists, reminding myself not to take a swing at him. I don't like to fight, but I will if I have to. This isn't the time or the place. Not when I'm the new kid on the block and everyone's eyes are on me.
Once Reisenberg's gone, I pull some clothes on and mutter to Sanders, "What the fuck's his problem?"
"I don't know, man, but thanks," Sanders says as we head toward the locker room. "You didn't have to stick your neck out for me like that. Not with all you have goin' on."
"Hey, maybe I needed a little distraction." I grin at Sanders as we stroll through the door. "Call it a bonding exercise."
"Now that sounds like an activity I'd like to try."
I stop and look up to see a ferociously sexy blonde smiling at me. God, I'd know that sweet, sultry voice anywhere. I hear it in my daydreams, in my late-night fantasies, every friggin' place I go. But seeing her in person, standing in front of my locker, feels like I've died and gone to heaven.
"No fuckin' way!" I rush toward her. "Care Bear? What the hell are you doing here?"
She points at the logo on her new press badge. "You're looking at SportsTV's new baseball correspondent."
I lean against my locker, shielding her from view as the other guys start to whisper around us. "When did this happen? Why didn't you call me?"
"I found out for sure last night, and I wanted to surprise you. So I took the first flight out this morning." She beams up at me.
"So, you're gonna be traveling with the team and everything?" I ask.
"Yep," she says, her eyes shining with excitement. "As long as you keep that hitting streak of yours alive, consider me along for the ride."
"But what about your job with the Kings?" I question, not wanting to disrupt her career on account of mine.
"It'll still be there when I get back," Carrie assures me. "Gayle made sure of that."
I smile. "I think I really like the Kings' new GM."
"I'd like her even more if she could get you back on the team ASAP." Carrie casts a worried look at me. "What the heck was going on in that shower room a minute ago? I was this close to going in there and finding out for myself."
I flex my jaw, not wanting to appear weak in front of her, especially if she heard Reisenberg calling me a pussy. "Nothing I can't handle."
"I know that a lot of players have humongous egos and that some of them were bound to be jealous of the attention you've been getting, but give me a break. What the hell is Reisenberg's problem?" Carrie bristles, and it's kind of sexy to see her getting all fired up on my account. "If he ever bothers you again, I'll kick his ass myself. The last thing you need right now is having to deal with any of his crap."
"You know what he told me the other day?" I ask, and I love how she leans in closer, ready to listen attentively to what I have to say, 'cause boy, does it feel good.
I've missed having her to confide in about stuff, stuff I didn't want to burden her with over the phone. But now that she's here, I can't hide it from her anymore. She sees what's going on, all the shit I've been dealing with. That's why I'm so glad she's here with me now, all the way to the end. I don't think I'd stand a chance of making it to fifty-seven games without her.
"What did that scumbag say to you?" Carrie prompts, narrowing her eyes.
"He said that, even if I break the record, there'll be a big asterisk next to my name because I did it in two different leagues with two different teams. He was trying to make it seem like it won't matter as much or something." I look to her to see what she thinks because her opinion means more to me than anyone else's.
Carrie takes my hand, guiding me out of the clubhouse. "I think they should give you a gold star if you do," she says adamantly, making my pulse kick up a notch. "'Cause, baby, over here, you're facing pitchers you haven't even seen before. That's way harder to do, and you're doing it night after night because you're one phenomenal player, Scott Harper."
"Oh, darlin', I love it when you say things like that." I bury my nose in her hair. There's nobody around and it's too damn hard to keep my hands off her. "Why don't you say we get outta here and continue this conversation in private? Do you have a place to stay tonight?"
"I'm afraid SportsTV didn't expect me to arrive until tomorrow," she murmurs, snuggling into me.
"What about your luggage?" I ask, kissing the top of her head.
"I had the cabbie take it to your parents' house after he dropped me off at the stadium," Carrie says, glancing up at me with a smile on her face.
"That's pretty presumptuous of you, Miss McKenzie." I tickle her ribs, and she squirms away from me.
"Well," she says, placing her hands on my chest, "I guess I should mention that my sister was in the cab too."
My eyebrows shoot up. "Alex is here?"
"There was no way she was staying behind in New York—not when she could see Bob," Carrie chuckles.
"But where are y'all gonna sleep?" I inquire, wanting her to fall asleep in my arms more than anything.
"Us girls will be hunkering down in the living room, I'm afraid," she says, her mouth quirking up.
"God, I really hate living at home," I sigh.
"Stop. It'll be fun, like a big slumber party," Carrie giggles, trying to look on the bright side. "Besides, it could be the only night we get to spend together."
"Oh, no. You're not starting with that 'on the job' bullshit again, are you?" I question her, frowning.
"Yeah, I'm afraid so," she replies, and I exhale sharply, already getting frustrated. "Scott, I know that you wanted to go public about us, but SportsTV already told me that there aren't going to be any more photos of me kissing your bat. This is the big time now, and they expect me to toe the line and conduct myself accordingly. They like the onscreen chemistry we have, but they don't want us to participate in any more gimmicks or publicity stunts. Starting tomorrow, we're required to maintain a professional distance from each other, which unfortunately means no sleeping together until this is all over."
"Fuck!" I cry, pinching the back of my neck. "And we're certainly not gonna have any privacy tonight."
"We'll make the best of it. At least I'm here, right?" She smiles, reaching for my hand. "And not on the other side of the country."
"Just seeing your beautiful face makes me happy," I reply, smiling back at her and swinging her hand in mine.
Her phone goes off and she stops to check it, quickly scrolling through a text.
"It's Alex. She's wondering where we are. Bob just ordered pizza." Carrie chuckles, meeting my gaze. "Our little siblings are getting antsy."
"I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to Bobby as 'little.' I'll have to bust him about that, for sure," I laugh, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.
"Don't you dare," Carrie scolds me, slapping me in the stomach. "I want to stay on Bob's good side after putting my foot in my mouth the last time."
I squeeze her arm, letting her know that it's okay. "All right," I concede. "Let's go. I'm starving."
For a lot more than food… And now that she's here, I intend to get my fill of her delectable body one way or the other.
***
"See, this locks in over your knee and slides into place here," Alex says, helping Bobby put on a set of prosthetic legs in our parents' li
ving room.
"I wouldn't call what I have left a knee. It's more like a stump," Bobby corrects her, and I want to smack him across the back of the head from where I'm sitting with Carrie on the couch.
But Alex handles him like a pro. "Well, I'm the one who just graduated with a degree in physical therapy, so I think I know my body parts."
"I can't believe she's getting him to do this," I whisper into Carrie's ear.
"Why?" She looks into my eyes. "He's been that resistant to learning how to walk again?"
"Oh yeah," I respond, taking a pull of my beer, feeling my brother's anxiety from across the room. "I think this is the first time I've ever seen him wearing artificial legs."
"You're kidding?" Carrie sits up, watching them more closely.
"Nope." I shake my head. "Alex has worked wonders."
Artificial legs aren't "one size fits all." They have to be custom made. But when Alex asked me for the number of Bobby's current therapist, I knew something was up. She texted me after she had the therapist send her Bobby's measurements from the computer scan he had done. They're super expensive, but she insisted on paying for them herself. To top it off, she was somehow able to put a rush on the order and bring them with her from New York for a proper fitting.
Alex looks up and notices us staring at them. "What are you two whispering about over there?"
"I don't know." Carrie shrugs. "Maybe about where your eyes went when you said 'body parts.'"
Bobby's eyes snap immediately to Alex's face.
"Carrie, shut up!" Alex cries out, a blushing rising on her cheeks, which makes me laugh. "Mr. and Mrs. Harper are right down the hall."
"They've gone to bed and closed the door. We're fine," I assure her.
"But we should keep it down all the same—after they were kind enough to let us stay in their home and all," Alex replies, staring down at her shoes.
But Bobby is quick to make his intentions known. "I don't know about you, big brother, but I'm crashing out here tonight."
"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," I say, leaning Carrie back against me, stroking her arm.
He tears his eyes away from Alex to give me a pointed look. "But I get the couch."
"Who said you get first dibs?" I whine, pointing the end of my beer bottle at him.
"Because I'm the cripple," he says, giving me a mischievous grin.
"And I'm the one in the middle of a hitting streak," I argue.
"Nah, he's got you there, Scott," Carrie jumps in, patting my chest. "War hero trumps pampered baseball player any day."
"Who says I'm pampered?" I bristle when they all start to laugh.
"I do," Carrie giggles, kissing my cheek. "'Cause I'm going to be the one working out the kinks in your back tomorrow after sleeping on the floor all night with you."
"As long as you'll be curled up next to me, I think I can take it." I put the bottle on the side table and gather her in my arms, settling us deeper into the couch while we still have it all to ourselves.
"Are you okay, Bob?"
Alex's voice pierces through my contentment, and all I see is Bobby trying to wobble forward on the set of parallel bars Alex set up. I brace myself, ready to jump up and help him, but he steadies himself just in time, holding on to the hand rails.
"Yeah. Just a little unsteady when I try to move," Bobby replies, huffing and puffing. "My balance is all outta whack."
"It'll come back to you, but it's probably best if you try walking around with a tripod for a while when you're ready. That usually helps," Alex suggests, following after him, her hand gripping the back of his shirt.
And something about that just tugs at my heart.
"So if you're as good at this as I think you are," Bobby says to Alex, standing upright but still trying to catch his breath, "why didn't you go into the family business and tend to the overpriced muscles of jerks like my brother?"
"Hey! When did I become such a cheap target?" I call out, getting a kick out of watching him try to flirt with a girl again. His balance isn't the only thing that's a little rusty.
But Bobby's quick to smack me down. "Because you're 'Mr. Perfect' now, the guy who can do no wrong. Just doing my part to keep you humble, bro."
"I'll back you up on that, Bob. It's going to require a team effort," Carrie chimes in, and I lift up the bottom of her shirt, attacking her stomach. "Scott! Scott, stop! You know how ticklish I am there."
"So, why didn't you go and work for your family, Alex?" Bobby ignores us, using his arm strength to hold himself up and focus on her.
"Oh, umm…"
I still hear Alex's hesitation, even with Carrie laughing in my ear.
"I did a brief stint with Liam, the Kings' trainer, last year. He's awesome at what he does, and his assistant, Wendell, is just as good. I didn't wanna get in the way of that."
"You're telling me your grandfather wouldn't make room on the staff if you told him you wanted to work for him?" Bobby asks, incredulous.
"But I didn't want him to," Alex responds.
I can tell by Bobby's stance that he just went from being into this girl to being head over heels for her.
Alex tucks her hair behind her ears, and I feel Carrie sigh against me when Bobby balances himself with one hand and reaches out to brush away a strand that she missed.
Alex stutters, "I'm kind of…I'm kind of like Carrie in that way. She went to Philly to jumpstart her career, and now, I wanna do the same thing. I'm done with accepting handouts."
"Do you think a change of scenery might help?" Bobby presses Alex, making my mouth turn up.
"Maybe," Alex hedges. "Like where?"
"I dunno. Somewhere around here?" Bobby responds so nonchalantly that I have to laugh.
I groan, clutching my stomach. "Oh, God, bro, you did not just go there."
"Fuck off, asswipe," Bobby growls back at me. "I'm talking to Alex."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't know she's 'your woman' now. My bad," I rib him relentlessly.
"Scott, shush," Carrie says, covering my mouth with her hand. "You're embarrassing them."
"Well, would you, Alex?" Bobby pushes.
I chuckle against Carrie's hand.
"Would I what? Move here?" Alex asks, her eyes wide.
"Yeah." Bobby shrugs even though it takes quite a bit of effort. "San Diego is seventy degrees and sunny all year round. There's no better place in the world."
I pull Carrie's hand away, unable to keep quiet any longer. "And just think, Alex. My brother'll be following you around wherever you go. How can you say no to that?"
"Yeah, umm…" Alex pauses, unsure of what to say. "I'll be sure to consider it."
"Okay, cool," Bobby says quickly, turning away from her. "Hey, Scott, I have another sleeping bag out back in the shed. Wanna help me grab it?"
"Jesus, I just got comfortable, Bobby," I groan, not wanting to move with Carrie's body nestled so perfectly against mine. "I thought you were gonna sleep on the couch?"
"I was just fooling around. I'm not that much of a jerk," Bobby responds, throwing himself back into his wheelchair and gesturing toward the girl he thought he was going to be cuddling up with tonight. "It's all yours, Alex."
"Are you sure?" she asks, scrunching up her face.
"Yeah, take it. I'm fine. This is nothing compared to some nights I spent roughing it in Afghanistan," Bobby replies, giving her the whole macho routine while unfastening his legs and tossing them aside.
"Why don't you just tell me where it is?" I get up, stretching out the muscles in my back. "You don't have to go wheeling yourself out there."
"Nah. You'll never find it by yourself." Bobby pushes his wheelchair toward the door, opening it for me. "It's probably buried under some junk of mine."
I walk behind his chair until we're out of earshot of the house. "Okay, so, why'd you wanna get me out here alone?" I stare down at him, crossing my arms in front of me. "Are you pissed that I was teasing you in front of Alex?"
"No, I'm scared that I just fre
aked her out," Bobby mutters. "Did you see her face when I mentioned to her about moving out here?"
"She wasn't expecting it, man," I say, giving him some brotherly advice. "I mean, you're moving kinda fast, don't you think? You just met each other, and now, you're practically asking her to uproot her whole life. I was freaking out just listening to you."
"But I want her to be my therapist, Scott." Bobby hangs his head. "I don't think I can do it with anyone else."
"You just started going back to therapy. Give it a chance." I reach out and smack his arm, getting him to look at me.
"But those girls at the rehab clinic aren't like Alex." He gives me a plaintive look. "They all feel sorry for me. I can see it in their eyes, and I hate it. Alex doesn't pity me. She treats me like everyone else. She's the only girl who's done that since I got back."
"So explain that to her!" I exclaim, wishing he wouldn't make this so difficult when it's not. "I'm sure she'd love to stick around and help you get back on your feet if she knew how much it meant to you. It's not like she has any plans for the immediate future. Carrie said she's still trying to figure out what to do with her life."
"Aren't we all?" he moans.
"You can even have her stay at the bungalow if you want." I throw my hands up. "I don't care."
"I'd rather stay out there with her, if you know what I mean." He looks at me like a man lost in the desert who's finally discovered the means to quench his thirst.
"Ease into it, bro. She's young. She hasn't been around like you have," I warn him, well aware of his wild past and the way he used to sleep around before he got hurt. I'm not one to talk, but this is Carrie's little sister we're talking about here.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby snarls back at me. "That I'm too damaged for a girl like her?"
"Just get your shit together before you go starting anything with her. That's all I'm saying." I rub my forehead, hating that I sound just like Jake, lecturing him.
But Bobby smirks up at me. "Too late for that."
"All right, you like her. Really like her. But how have you been feeling lately?" I ask, voicing my concerns. "I know I've been in and out a lot since I came home, but you seem better—at least, to me."
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