Chapter 3 #2
Knowing I have a confrontation ahead of me, I click open the first email and get busy replying.
Despite the rain yesterday, no humidity clings to the air. Thank goodness.
It’s a perfect spring day. My hair looks amazing to boot, putting me in a great mood. Bonus: I’m not sweating through the thin tee I put on before coming out to the field today.
April is such a perfect weather month in Texas. Though I know summer is just around the corner to torture me again, I’ll enjoy seventy-degree temps while I can.
I wave to Coach Barth when I come out of the tunnel into the sunlight of the field and climb the stairs to a different section of the stands to mix it up today.
As I settle onto the metal bench and set my bag beside me, the players switch positions.
Just my luck, the third baseman is my direct line of sight, which means I’m in his as well.
Annoyance wriggles through my good mood, souring it.
No, don’t let him win. Maybe he was having a bad day.
Or perhaps he gets hit up by fans all the time.
I imagine that could be quite tiresome some days.
Or maybe, Cricket, he’s just an asshole baseball player.
It’s probably the latter despite wanting to try to justify his behavior yesterday.
I glance at the large manila envelope holding the contract, unsure when to approach him to sign. I figure after practice would be best, judging by the nice day that remains, as it won’t be called off like yesterday due to rain.
After watching a few plays, I grin. The team out of Rockwall isn’t going to know what hit them.
With current minor league players and a former major leaguer, the Armadillos are looking the best they ever have.
My spy in Rockwall texted me that they also scored a Major League player, but that doesn’t shake my confidence. I believe in our ’Dillos.
I wish my parents did. Why spend the money to own a team if you don’t care about the game or the players? At least, Savvy and I enjoy it.
I grab my bottle of water and take a drink. The lack of breeze causes the sun to beat down stronger, but I start to wonder if it’s the heat rolling off Greene. I’d put my glasses on to verify, but I don’t need to. I can feel his eyes on me. It’s equally unnerving and intriguing.
Footsteps running across the metal floors on my aisle pull my gaze to the source.
I open my arms just as Jacob runs into them.
I kiss his head, tucking mine against him and savoring his sweet little hugs.
“Hi,” I whisper, leaning back to see the blue eyes that matter most to me in this world. “How’s my little guy?”
“We got to milk a goat, Mommy.”
“You did?” Lowering my head so our eyes are level, I ask, “How was that?”
“Weird.” I laugh, though he was being serious. I get it. I was always more of a winery girl than a farm gal. He hops onto the seat next to me. “Who’s playing?”
“This is the all-star team and some of our Armadillo players. They’re going to play a game to raise money for the two local high schools. Isn’t that neat?”
He nods a few times, his attention glued ahead when Savvy finally reaches us. “This kid can run. As soon as he reached the stadium, he took off as if he knew exactly where you were.” She sits next to me and blows out a breath. “How are they looking today?”
“Incredible.”
“And did you get the contract signed?”
“Not yet, but I’ll get it done after practice.” As if on cue, Coach Barth claps his hands to bring everyone in for the day.
“Looks like this is your chance.” The players file off the field into the dugout, which will take them to the locker room. “Go get ’em, tiger!”
Dread suddenly fills my gut, which makes me more resolved than ever not to let that man win this round. “Thanks.”
When I take Jacob’s hand, he says, “Savvy said I could run the bases.”
She adds, “I did promise him, and I don’t mind waiting at the car afterward for you.”
I kiss his head again. “Be good for Savvy, okay?”
“Okay.”
This little boy is my world and all that really matters. So paperwork schmaperwork. I’m not afraid of confronting a Greene and feel more emboldened to do it. If I can raise Jacob on my own, run a winery, and manage operations of a regional baseball team, I can deal with a former pro ball player.
I march down the stairs and wait inside the tunnel for Mr. Greene with the allegedly gorgeous blue eyes. A few of the players walk by, saying hi as they pass.
It’s been a while, so I check to make sure his truck is still parked out front.
Is he the last to leave or what? Since I’ll never forget the sight of it coming toward me yesterday, it’s hard to miss.
When I turn back, I run into that wall of muscle that’s quickly becoming too familiar, considering we’ve never actually met.
“Are you stalking me?”
“You wish.” I shove off him, backing up just enough to get caught in his gaze. Oh . . . My heart stops with a hard thud in my chest.
Jaco Beach.
Costa Rica.
Those unforgettable blue eyes.
There’s no way . . . I even remember asking him where he was from that night.
“I’m not sure we should travel down that road when we know it leads to a dead end,” he replied.
It was a dead end, but I’d know his face anywhere. I still see it in my dreams sometimes.
But being in his presence now, a man I never thought I would see again, words elude me as my mind scrambles through different scenarios of how this could play out. And knowing that I walked away with more than his cowboy hat as a souvenir that night.
Jacob.
My sweet boy.
I back up to a nearby railing, clinging to it as the foundation of the life I’ve built begins to crumble beneath me. A night I’ll never forget is a nightmare four years later. There is no mistaking that face, or the man standing in front of me.
Griffin Greene wasn’t just a good time in paradise. He’s the father of my son.