Rocking Player
Victoria Pinder
Rocking Player
Copyright©2020
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2020 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
This book is dedicated to the city of Boston where I grew up. I learned about the 4 seasons with sports and especially the importance of baseball when I learned to walk really. Red Sox nation, forever. And sure I wore a Miami Marlins outfit to my sister’s wedding in Boston to bug her but that was just in fun. And now I’m living in Pittsburgh and these people might just love their teams like how Boston uses sports to connect us all. Talking about baseball in this book was like returning home in some way though I tried to keep the team fictional. (You will never catch me in a Yankee’s hat though I do love visiting NYC…)
Contents
Series information
Join Victoria Pinder
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
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Also by Victoria Pinder
About the Author
Series information
Please check out the entire Steel Series
Legendary Rock Star
Rocking Player
Ruthless Financier
Wicked Cowboy
Powerful Prince
Cocky M.D.
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Chapter 1
Georgiana
Life wasn’t like it was in the movies.
I tugged my brown hair into a ponytail, reminding myself that as a single mom, I had zero interest in dating. My son, Jeremy, was all that mattered since the day I had him.
Well, Jeremy and peace. I liked my life orderly and calm.
Once in a while, like today, I wondered what my vacation romance, the one that had transformed me into sudden mom, might react if I ever saw him again to tell him about his son. No other man since Michael had ever made me forget myself.
I was about to go to a professional baseball game. Jeremy had begged me to take him. My son was all about the cards and getting better at catching for his little league team.
My dad, not my mom, had taken me to one baseball game as a girl, though I’m sure I'd talked his ear off about my paintbrushes I’d loved.
Nothing stirred. Not even a leaf on a tree blew outside the windows on our cul-de-sac. Silence in the house wasn’t good, though at six years old, he was now old enough that maybe the quiet was okay, and it didn’t mean disaster was brewing. My big ears usually heard everything, and quiet ricocheted through my spine. Time to stop my wandering thoughts. Old habits kicked in and I moved faster to get ready to take him to the game today. I checked myself in the mirror of my en suite bathroom in my two-story home. Jeans that weren’t "mom jeans" and actually flattered me had been a gift from my sister, Ridley, after I’d cooked dinner for her last week. My high cheekbones were bare as blush seemed silly for a game.
I never wore makeup anymore, but all my sisters had agreed I needed to stop hiding. I wasn’t, but I just wasn’t interested in anyone, not since Michael and that dream vacation.
Jeremy was at his desk by the window overlooking our quiet street reading his baseball cards like he’d one day like to be stamped on one of them.
I backed out of his room and closed my eyes in the small hall next to the linen closet. Today I imagined Michael close and his kiss still made me tingle. Sounds so stupid when I think it, but it’s true. I opened my eyes. After Michael, no other guy had made me feel anything. And I had our boy who looked like him with those blue eyes and squared chin, so I knew whatever it was between us had happened.
Time to finish and get to the day game on time. Now. Jeans were heavy, so I paired it with a plain white t-shirt as baseball games were hot just sitting in the sun. At least, I would imagine so, because I didn’t remember many details from the one time as a girl with my dad.
Jeremy had begged and I’d do anything for my son. Unlike my mother, who often hid away as a wallflower, never taking me anywhere except the grocery store where I’d been the one to fill the cart with the list as she’d claim some headache and need to sit down, I made time to take Jeremy where he wanted.
Another of my five sisters, Indigo, had sent the baseball tickets from her job, so this wish of his wasn’t costing anything but time and lunch. Indigo had joked I needed to check out the single dads in the stands, not that I’d ever try.
Once I'd tasted perfection, no other man had ever come close.
I lathered the sunblock on myself, quickly fixed the fine strays of my hair in the ponytail then checked my traffic apps for the quickest, safest route.
This was the nicest looking I got. No makeup, no jewelry. Single mom and now raising my son in the same home where I’d been raised with my five little sisters and countless cousins who’d come to stay with us, including Phoenix Steel, the rock star, who was the closest thing I had to a friend these days.
I heard my son rumbling and pacing, so I rushed out of my bedroom and grabbed the car keys on my dresser. My phone rang. Stephanie, my sister, who had defied our sisterly bond to never marry, now lived with her husband-to-be. I answered fast and said, “I can’t believe you’re living in London now.”
She laughed. “Georgiana, you have to take Jeremy and fly over. We have room in our flat.”
The cheer in her voice couldn’t be replicated. I’d never have that, not that I needed more. Being a mom was great and, once in a while, we had wonderful calm in the house. I laughed as I said, “You already sound European. I’ll miss seeing you, but I’m so happy for you.”
“Remember that trip the six of us all took to New York?” She asked.
I cringed at the memory. Stephanie and Indigo had spent half an hour talking me off a bench in Central Park as I was overwhelmed with all the people moving.
In Pittsburgh, I loved the wi
ndy back roads with no traffic to navigate over Manhattan and being lost in a sea of people. “Yeah?”
“London’s even worse, which is why we’re getting a house in the country. When you come for the wedding, we can all stay together.”
Go to London. I worked at a superstore filling online orders. My savings from the inheritance had all gone to Jeremy. Phoenix, my sisters, and a few cousins all pooled together funds for me when I had to quit my financial job after giving birth, but that money was for Jeremy’s college and his future.
And, the superstore had insurance, which was good, as Jeremy was a kid and might need medical care. Doctor bills could wipe out every dime faster than a recession.
“I know none of us wanted to marry. I was the different one, but being in love is a good thing.”
Our mom had always tried to hide herself as the eternal wallflower who hated going outside, and once our father had died, she'd withered away like she needed the oxygen only our father provided. I’d not be that crazy.
“I want love…for Jeremy.”
I knew she wanted the best for me, and she’d hug me like that might make me change my mind as she said, “I love you, Sis.”
My son called up the stairs, “Mom, are you ready?”
This was his day. I told Stephanie that I had to go and rushed down the stairs. I’d call my sister back later.
He was dressed and pacing. Our shoe shelf was near the door. I grabbed my sneakers, the one extravagance I'd bought myself this year, and headed to our Rav 4 parked in our garage.
We were fine. I was lucky that my inheritance had been enough to fund Jeremy’s college, and being a single mom with my part-time gig meant I could be there for my boy and keep insurance.
I didn’t need to be my sisters, who all had fancy careers to complete their lives.
And I absolutely didn’t need a man. Jeremy was enough. So I needed to stop living in my head already. I checked his seat belt and closed his door.
Then, I took the driver’s seat and said to him, “I don’t know anything about baseball. You’re going to have to explain everything.”
He rolled his blue eyes. He wore his little league cap that read "Sea Horse" and a Pirates jersey. “I play shortstop, and you come to all my games.”
In seven years, he’d be a teenager and my son would do worse than give me that look of his that read "annoyed". I cringed as I imagined him as a rebellious teenager. His father had been wild and fun. I tapped the steering wheel as we headed the few miles into the city with the skyscraper horizon surrounded by the rivers to park at the stadium for the game.
Other families were walking through the parking lot, then heading inside, laughing and joking, and mentioning the hot dogs. The game had been a good idea.
I held my son’s hand. “Okay, we need to find these seats and you’ll have to explain the players and whose good or not and why.”
He pointed to the overhead sign and said the team names. “Today the Pirates play the Sooners. One of my favorite players will be here.”
“That sounds awesome.” When I played completely dumb and let him explain, I helped his self-esteem, so I asked, “And the Pirates are from here?”
He gave me a pointed look like my father would have made at me if I’d ever shown disloyalty to my hometown team. “Yeah, and the Sooners are from Tulsa.”
Well, that made sense. I’d never been to Oklahoma, but of course they’d be the Sooners. I used to like history, so I knew that name was the settlers’ moniker for going the night before the race to claim land and camping out near the flag sites before the race had started. Once racers had closed in, they'd put their flags up and had pretended they'd won.
I read on our ticket that we were in section 9, which Indigo, my sister, said was the closest tickets she could get last minute. It was right next to the Sooners' dugout. But it was fine. I maneuvered us around the crowd to find the seats.
“And they play the same way you do?”
Jeremy, with his short brown hair and long sides and bangs in some strange style, said, “They’re better. I can’t catch the ball that good. Can we get a hot dog?”
“Sure,” I said and noticed his nose was red from the sun already. My shoulders slumped. I should get him a hat for the sun. Today he could study the pros. At home, I had nothing more to help. Jeremy had wanted someone to toss the ball around with, but I couldn’t. I’d tried, but he’d given up on my catching and tossing skills once he'd realized they were worse than his.
I needed to figure out how to help him and who to ask. I walked toward the stand outside our numbered section and ordered a couple of hot dogs, sodas, and popcorn.
He carried his food and we filed in. Indigo had been right. We could smell the fresh grass. Hopefully, Jeremy saw whoever his favorite was from our vantage point.
Jeremy slipped into his seat and hugged the popcorn as he said, “Mom, these are great seats. We can see the dugout.”
I laughed and settled in, putting my drink in the seat holder. “I only get you the best, kid. You know that.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said as the seats around us filled in.
I checked my phone, which was empty of messages, but that was fine. No sisters or cousins in crisis that needed my ear today, as the second mom of the entire Steel clan. My first real responsibility in the world was next to me. I put it away and smelled the fresh popcorn and beer and listened to people around me mentioning some player named "Irons" with some amazing batting average as the one the Pirates needed to fear.
Everyone was smiling, including Jeremy, who looked enraptured with the field.
I tapped his side and said, “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
The team in the dugout beside us started coming out.
Jeremy said, “That’s Rodriguez. He’s the pitcher for the Sooners.”
We could see them lining up to go on the field and I said without looking, “I see.”
The next man on the huge Jumbotron had that chiseled chin I’d never forget. Jeremy had inherited it.
"That’s Michael Irons," Jeremy added the name I’d wondered about for years.
Adrenaline coursed through me as I glanced toward the field and saw the player in question.
The player who’d rocked my world.
Irons spit out whatever was in his mouth and waved to the crowd as I asked with an almost breathless voice, “Who?”
“He’s the shortstop and has the best batting average in the league.”
Shortstop. MVP. Weekend fling. Father of my son. My heart trembled,
I grabbed my soda from its holder and said, “Jeremy, we need to go.”
His gaze narrowed, and he didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
“Get up.”
I pushed at him. If he saw me, I’d find out in a second if he even remembered our moment. I’d had my memories and his son. We needed to leave. Now.
He didn’t move from his seat. “Mom, we just got here.”
My skin had chills as I grabbed my son’s arm. “I’ll explain later. Please run.”
He stood, shook his head at me, and put his hands in his pockets. “Mom, we’re here, and you promised to take me to a game. Your phone didn’t ring, so nothing happened to anyone.”
A warmness stirred in my belly as someone came behind me, probably for their seats next to us as I tugged my son and said, “I’ll get better tickets tomorrow.”
“Mom, turn around,” Jeremy said as his eyes widened.
My skin had goosebumps it hadn’t had in a long time. “Why?”
He pointed and said like he couldn’t quite breathe, “It’s Michael Irons, the shortstop.”
I turned around and stared into the stormy blue eyes of Michael, Jeremy’s father.
“I never thought I’d see you again.”
I’d stopped looking for any signs of my vacation romance years ago.
I never should have stopped. His hand wrung the hat he held in his hands as he asked, “Georgiana? I never got your
last name?”
That was it?
I’d played this scenario over a thousand times in my head, but I stilled and just said, “Michael, hi.”
Jeremy now took my hand. “Mom, do you know Michael?”
Not once had I imagined the muscular man in my bed had been a baseball player. I probably should have guessed he was an athlete, as he was still all muscles, but somehow even sexier than my memory.
Maybe it was the skintight pants.
My face felt hot as I said, “No. I mean, yes. Kind of. We met years ago, on vacation, before I had you.”
Michael stared at Jeremy and then at me. He widened his stance. He knew.
He saw a mini version of himself, square jaw, blue eyes, pointed nose. “You checked out of the hotel early.”
My entire body felt tight, like I was going to rocket my own flight out of here from the energy in my veins. “I…My father died. Then my mom soon after. I was a mess and my life was in turmoil for a while.”
He took my hand in his. “You didn’t leave a way to find you.”
“Michael Irons!” Jeremy said fast. “You’ve got the best batting average and record of catches in the league.”
Of course. The one thing our son craved to be better at was the one thing his father was clearly good at. He took out his phone from his back pocket and shoved it in my face as the stadium-filled crowd around us became clearer.
Michael quickly said, “Look, give me your address and phone number. I have to work, but after the game, we need to talk. Clearly.”
Talk. Right. Of course. I’d played out finding him and telling him about his son for years now, but it generally was me in a sexy dress strutting over to him and then he’d kissed me in my dreams of this moment. Now, real-life was different, and my fingers trembled.
Rocking Player: Single Mom Second Chance Romance (Steel Series Book 2) Page 1
