Chapter 9 #2
“So organized, Baseball Daddy. I bet you’re one of those people who knows where their birth certificate is, aren’t you?”
“You don’t? Miller, that’s something you should definitely know the location of.”
This woman, who is about to be responsible for my child for the next two months, can’t even locate one extremely important piece of paper.
Max likes her. She’s Monty’s daughter.
“I’m going to need you to say something reassuring right now because I’m about to leave a human in your hands and I’m not having much faith.”
“I’m fun.”
I can feel one side of my mouth tugging upward. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“I’m also very good at poker.”
“Well, thankfully my fifteen-month-old doesn’t have much money to his name.”
She slides her palms against the counter. “And I look good in your kitchen.”
I attempt to hold back, but fuck it, I like sparring with this woman. “That you do.”
There’s no question there. Miller looks damn good in my kitchen when I allow myself to look.
“Does your boyfriend know what a flirt you are?”
“Oh, come on, Kai. You’re better than that. Be direct. Ask me if I’m single.” There’s a sly smile on her lips, a smile that screams she likes flirting with me as much as I do her.
There’s something about Miller, something so fierce about her personality, that my gut knows loyalty is deeply ingrained in her. So, no, she wouldn’t be flirting with me if she had a boyfriend.
“No need to ask. I’ve already got my answer.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
I miss letting loose and flirting with a beautiful woman, remembering how easy life used to be, and Miller makes it pretty easy to get caught up in pretending I still have the freedom to be that man.
But I fucking don’t. There’s a kid in the next room reminding me of that.
I clear my throat, not answering her question. “Call security at the front gate when the groceries get here. They’ll come and drop them off.”
She looks around the room. “It’s fancy out here, Baseball Daddy.”
“It’s safe.”
“Glad to know I don’t have to worry about anything dangerous getting in.”
She might not have to worry, but I do. Because with Miller Montgomery, my coach’s daughter, standing in my kitchen looking like that , I’m afraid something very dangerous has already gotten in.
These seats are the fucking worst.
Before I signed my contract last year, I should’ve amended that the bullpen needed more comfortable chairs. Eight and a half innings and my ass is numb as I wait and watch for my team to pull out the W at home.
Isaiah is playing his ass off. His defense is tight and locked in.
He hit a two-run homer in the fourth and another double in the seventh, bringing in a run and giving the Warriors a comfortable lead.
I was going to invite him over after the game to have one of those beers that may or may not still be in my fridge, but with how well he’s doing, Mr. Popular is about to get a whole lot of attention he’s not going to want to pass up.
It’s not that I’m not a team player, but I hate bullpen days. Besides my forty pitches thrown to get my arm loose and active between my starts this week, I don’t do anything here other than watch.
We sit somewhere off the foul line for the entirety of the game when I could be sitting at home, spending time with my son. This is where it gets hard for me. On my starting nights, I can justify the time away, but nights like these, I wish Max were here too.
With my hat in my hands, I absentmindedly run my thumb over Max’s picture. It’s a habit, but also a good reminder when work becomes too much, none of it really matters. He does.
I love the game, I really do, but I love my son a whole lot more and I don’t know how to find that balance.
Maybe if his mom hadn’t left him the way she did I’d be handling all of this a whole lot better. I’d be more hands-off perhaps. But most of the time I feel like I need to overcompensate, to be both parents and just hope that Max doesn’t notice the gaps.
“Ace.” One of our relief pitchers pats me on the back. “I like this no-work thing. You think you can go another eight innings on your next start?”
Chuckling, I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I’ll try my best.”
Taking a seat next to me, he offers me a bit of his chew, but I decline, holding up my seeds instead.
“Your brother is going to be insufferable after tonight.”
“God,” I exhale. “Tell me about it.”
And right on cue, post-game in the training room with the music blaring, my little brother waltzes in like the arrogant fucker that he is.
Isaiah slowly unbuttons his uniform to the song, the jersey with his number nineteen falling to his still cleated feet. “I’m here, baby!”
Lying back on a training table as I get my shoulder rubbed out, I watch, trying my best not to laugh. But it’s pretty difficult not to when he’s got the whole room on his side, cheering him on as he strips down to the music, high from our win and his personal game.
“Rhodes, you’re on my table tonight,” Kennedy, one of the trainers, says. “I’m rubbing you down.”
Isaiah stops mid-dance, his eyes going wide with excitement because well, he’s in love with Kennedy.
“Kenny... are you serious?” He follows her to her table like a love sick puppy dog.
“Yep. Strip down and hop up.”
My brother’s attention darts to me, his mouth hanging open but smiling at the same time. Kennedy rarely volunteers to work on Isaiah because the kid can be a colossal pain in the ass.
Looking at me, he points to her then to himself as if she has no idea how obsessed he is with her.
I can’t help but laugh at him from across the room, but then my doctor’s thumb digs into my rotator cuff and wipes my smile right off my face.
“Is this part of my reward for having a good game?” Isaiah asks Kennedy as he strips down to nothing, his cup clattering to the floor. “Just how much are we talking here with this rub down?”
“Jesus, Rhodes.” Kennedy turns away from him as quickly as possible, covering her eyes. “Leave your goddamn compression shorts on. This isn’t that kind of massage.” She peeks over to me. “Ace, what the hell is wrong with your brother?”
“I wish I knew, Ken.”
Isaiah uses both hands to quickly cover his dick while standing bare-ass naked next to Kennedy’s training table. “Well, you said to strip down and I got excited.”
I motion to what he’s covering. “Clearly.”
The entire room falls into a fit of laughter. Isaiah pulls his shorts back on and hops onto the table with his stomach down and his calves exposed.
“I just thought,” he continues. “Finally, my Kenny is going to realize I’m the guy for her. After all these years and all this tension, it only took a two-run homer for her to open her eyes.”
Kennedy’s voice has no inflection. “There’s no tension.”
Isaiah smirks, looking over his shoulder at her. “Baby, there’s tension. You could cut it with a knife. You’ll see one day, Kenny. You’re gonna want a real man, and I’m a real man.”
Kennedy’s elbow digs into Isaiah’s right calf.
“Oh, holy fuck!” he screams, biting into the padded table to muffle the sound. He lets out a strangled whimper, his voice cracking. “Kenny! Kenny!”
“That’s it, baby. Let it out like a real man.”
The entire room is in hysterics as my egotistical brother melts into the table, squirming to get away from her. “You like hurting me?” he asks, sitting up and getting out of her reach. “Little do you know I like pain. Some might even call me a masochist in the bedroom.”
Kennedy is trying her hardest to hold back her smile.
They’ve worked together for three years and my brother has tried his best to get her in his bed.
It hasn’t worked. Though, the girl used to have a diamond on her left ring finger, and this season she doesn’t, so who knows, maybe that’s reignited his determination.
“If you like pain so much, get back on this table.” She pats the cushion.
“Kenny, you’ve had a long day. I’m good. I don’t want you working too hard.”
She laughs, shaking her head and walking away. “Wimp.”
My doctor continues to stretch out my throwing arm as I speak to my brother. “You’re going to drive her to quit one day.”
“Nah,” Isaiah says, his voice growing louder as he walks to my table, looking down at me. “She’s in love with me. She has absolutely no idea, but she is. And clearly, I’m in love with her.”
“Clearly. Since you flaunt a new girl in your bed every night while staying in the same hotels as her.”
Isaiah pops his shoulders. “We have an understanding.”
I chuckle.
“I’m surprised you stayed for PT. I figured you’d be rushing home to get Max away from the hot nanny.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to work on loosening the reins per Miller’s request.”
“We’re taking requests from Miller now? Interesting.”
“She’s not so bad, I guess.”
Isaiah’s brows shoot up, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “She’s not so bad, huh? Who are you and where’s my overbearing big brother?”
I use my free hand to flip him my middle finger.
“You know, I was thinking, maybe I should come over tonight. Make sure Miller is okay. If she doesn’t like your house, she can stay at mine.”
Kennedy walks by, shaking her head.
“As a friend,” Isaiah quickly adds for her to hear. “As a friend, Kenny!”
“You’re an idiot and she’s not staying at my house.”
“But Max’s nannies have always lived in your house.”
“And Max’s other nannies didn’t have a dad they could crash with who lives thirty minutes away.”
They also didn’t look like Miller, talk like Miller, or have me wanting to flirt back with them every time they open their damn mouth.
Additionally, they didn’t have my throwing hand putting in extra work while in the shower because flashes of her thick thighs and green eyes won’t leave my fucking daydreams.