Stealing Home (Callahan Family Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  “Wow,” Walker breathes, and I know he’s holding his tongue, which only makes me blush more.

  Dahlia gives me a thumbs-up and fans her own face behind Walker’s back, so apparently she approves of the demi-god standing in our foyer. When I told her he asked me on a date, she practically shoved me out the door that night. It’s been two days since then, and she hasn’t stopped talking about how proud of me she is for getting back up on the horse. Or stopped making comments about how I should get under the horse, especially if he has a certain appendage that is horse-sized.

  “So, you two crazy kids don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it covered. Stay out all night, if you want.” Dahlia winks at me.

  “You’re not coming home!” Noelle screeches, as if Dahlia has just announced the end of the world.

  I shoot my sister a look that says thanks a lot, but bend to my oldest daughter’s eye level before hugging her. “Not at all. I’ll be home and come kiss you good night, even if you’re sleeping. I’m just getting a bite to eat with my friend Walker here, and then I’ll be back.”

  Breanna eyes Walker cautiously, and Noelle looks over my shoulder at him.

  “This is my Mommy,” Noelle tells him.

  I can’t see Walker because of the way I’m holding my daughter, but I hear him say, “I know. She is the best mommy in the world.”

  It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t treating Noelle like a child. He was trying to follow her lead.

  “Like Daniel Tiger says, you need to stop and listen to stay safe,” Noelle tells him.

  My mind whirls as I try to keep any reaction in check. Dahlia’s eyes flash to mine, because essentially what my five-year-old is telling him is that he should not dare to put me in harm’s way. That he needs to stop to keep me safe.

  And now I have to wonder just how much she heard when I thought I was successfully hiding it from her all those years.

  “I’ll always keep her safe.” Walker’s voice is dead serious.

  I stand after kissing Noelle and patting her on the back, trying to keep my tone light. “Come give Mommy a kiss, my little!”

  Breanna bumbles over, jabbering in her two-year-old speak, and kisses me. “Wuv you!”

  “I love you both so much. Be good for Aunt D, and I’ll be in to kiss you when I get home.”

  “Can we play stickers in the morning?” Noelle asks, clearly jumping from one topic to the next in the way only a child can.

  “Of course.” I affectionately rub her cheek.

  “Ready?” Walker asks, and my stomach flips over.

  How am I going to make it all night without melting into him?

  “Yes.” I smile, truly meaning it.

  We grab my coat, which he helps me shrug into in the most gentlemanly of ways, and then head out the door to lots of waves and blown kisses.

  Walker cringes as I walk down the front sidewalk of the condo, my heels clacking.

  “Those might not be the best choice of footwear for what we’re about to do. But you know what? Keep them on. It’s worth it. They’re too sexy to forego for practicality.”

  The way he’s staring at my legs, accentuated by the heels, both make me chuckle and feel ridiculously lusted after. Something about the way Walker always regards me makes me feel powerful, something I’ve never truly felt as an adult woman.

  “Where are we going, though?” My smile is coy, and I’m fully aware that I’m flirting.

  “Hop in, and I’ll show you.” Walker’s grin is just as sly and sexy.

  My heart skips four beats, not just two. And as he helps me up into his truck, with his hand lingering at the small of my back just a little too long, I know I’m already falling head over heels for the man.

  Oh, lord, please don’t let my foolish heart be broken once more.

  14

  Hannah

  “You’re such an athlete.”

  I snort-laugh as I take the fuzzy socks from Walker’s hands, pulling them over my bare feet. When he said that my heels weren’t really going to work for this date, he wasn’t kidding. Not only do I have no socks to put on, but getting my feet back into heels after ice-skating is not going to be pleasant.

  “What?” Walker’s grin is so boyish as he glances up at me from where he’s tying his skates.

  “Taking me to do sports as a first date? What, you’re in that much withdrawal from baseball season?” I tease him, but it’s all in good fun.

  He sits down on the bleacher below mine and helps me into my socks. His hands are on my bare ankle, and I shiver. Not from the cold, though it is pretty chilly in here, but from the contact. Walker is helping me into the skates, lacing them up, taking care of me. It’s extremely sweet.

  “If you really don’t want to, we can go to dinner or something. I just thought … you only get out of the house every so often. I wanted to make this fun, do something different than just sitting at a restaurant. We can do that anytime, or I can cook. Ask Colleen, I’m not a bad cook. But you only get one first date. I wanted to make it memorable.”

  And my heart puddles to mush on the floor, because goddamn if that isn’t the most lovely thing I’ve ever heard.

  “This is perfect,” I tell him as my eyes flit to the ice-skating rink in front of us.

  Because not only has he taken me to do something fun and lighthearted, but it’s also about twenty-five minutes away from Packton. Being two towns over means we probably won’t bump into anyone we know, which is just fine with me. The rink is also suspiciously empty.

  “Is it an off night or something?” I ask, looking around.

  Truly, aside from an employee or two, I see no one else around. And it’s a Saturday evening.

  Walker grins up at me. “So, I may have rented the place out just for us …”

  “Walker!” I guffaw, because the gesture is pretty grand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He shrugs as if it’s no skin off his back. Which it probably isn’t, or a drop in the bucket financially. “I think you’ve been through enough in public the last week, you deserve to have some unchecked fun. Plus, I like it better when I get you alone.”

  When he offers me his hand so we can clomp down the bleachers in our skates, I take it. Something inside me gives way to more emotion, if that’s even possible, because he really put thought into this date.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went ice-skating. I’m a summer girl at heart, so if I fall, I’m taking you down with me,” I tell him.

  “Hawaii, I remember.” He taps his temple as we step out onto the ice. “Do you miss it?”

  My feet are shaky, my balance not nearly as good as Walker’s, but he grips my hand in his as we slowly start to make our way around the circular rink. I find it a bit freeing, skating like this, even if I’m not good at it. There is something childlike and romantic about going ice-skating in the winter, especially at this small-town rink that’s outside underneath trees twinkling with fairy lights. It’s a magical setting for a first date, and after all I’ve been through, Walker is kind of making me feel like a princess.

  “I do, actually. I mean, I haven’t been back in years, but it’s … there is no place on earth like Hawaii. Have you been?” I ask, loving the closeness between us.

  He nods, taking my arm in his so that we’re even closer. “Once, about eight years ago. It was so beautiful, that I do remember. You think you’ll go back soon?”

  Sighing, I don’t want to delve too deep. Tonight is supposed to be a fresh start, and if I start talking about my domestic violence case and divorce, it will just put a sheen of animosity over the whole thing. I don’t want doom and gloom.

  So, instead, I answer with what I’d like to happen. “I don’t know that it will be anytime soon, but I’d love to take the girls. They’ve never been, and we haven’t gotten back to California to my parent’s house in almost two years. A West Coast trip is definitely in order. My family has a coffee plant on Oahu, it’s just the most picturesque place you’ve ever bee
n. Oceans there don’t look the same as the Jersey shore,” I joke, because I know he’s been there, too.

  “Wildwood is definitely not up to Honolulu’s standards.” He chuckles. “How are the girls doing? They’re hilarious, by the way.”

  Thinking about my daughter’s just makes my whole face light up. “God, they’re just pistols, aren’t they? I have no idea how they got to be such little personalities, but they’re … thriving, I’d say. One good thing about being an athlete’s kid is that you don’t really notice when one parent is gone a whole lot.”

  “I get that. My dad was gone on a lot of road trips, for a lot of my childhood. It makes it hard to miss someone who is constantly leaving for the airport or getting home past bedtime. I always swore I’d never be like that. I guess I’ll have to have kids to put that into practice.” The tone of his voice is a little sad.

  “Why are you single?” It pops out in a silly manner, but I’m serious when I ask it. “I mean … don’t take this in a weird way, but I’d totally expect you to carry on the Callahan name, play the super dad role, have some gorgeous wife waiting at home.”

  I’ve often wondered why he’s stayed a bachelor. Walker isn’t old by any means, but at thirty, I guess I feel like I’m so much older than those around me. I was a married woman and a mom for most of my twenties, and so when someone the same age as I am doesn’t even appear to be settling down, it strikes me as weird. I don’t say that to be judgmental, it’s just my own experience making my view warped. I know it’s completely normal for a thirty-year-old man to be single, but one like Walker? I’m surprised he hasn’t been scooped up and procreated with.

  The lean-muscled giant next to me skates in front, then turns to meander backward while he talks to me. It looks so effortless and easy, though if I tried that I’d be falling on my face.

  “I just never put much effort into dating, I guess. Never really found anyone who I thought was worth it. Until you, that is.”

  Something unreadable passes over his face and my heart stutters, because it doesn’t sound as if he’s talking about the amount of time we’ve been seeing each other since the night he rescued me from Shane.

  “Well, I’m glad I finally came to my senses. And that you were still interested when I finally did.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to take you out. Or to hear you say that.” He’s dead serious, and my stomach flips.

  The rest of the night goes so well, I forget to be nervous. Or self-conscious, or patrol what I’m saying. It’s shocking, how comfortable I feel with Walker considering my history with men and relationships. It’s like that strange phenomenon people talk about; when you’re not looking for the right person, or maybe actively avoiding being in a relationship, they’ll just appear and everything will click. That’s how being around Walker and being on a date with him feels.

  We talk about everything and nothing. We laugh hysterically as he tries to throw a trick and falls on his butt. He holds my hand, pulls me around the ice, and even throws a Frank Sinatra song on his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. After we’ve exhausted ourselves skating, Walker lays out a little picnic of sorts on the bleachers. He’s prepared spiked hot chocolate to warm us up, with big fluffy marshmallows, and we split a delicious chicken panini, spicy mustard-seasoned brussels sprouts, and some locally made chocolate truffles which I could eat all night.

  It’s not the date I would have expected at all, but I think that’s why I love it so much. Just like Walker, it’s unique, small town, but beautiful in its simplicity.

  And as he drives me home, with our hands joined on the center console between us and the Bailey’s from the hot chocolate warming my veins, I feel like a teenager falling head over heels for the first time in my life. In one night, Walker has managed to erase a lot of the mistrust and skepticism I have about love and relationships. That in itself is a miracle.

  Walker holds my hand all the way up to the door, where the single outdoor lamp on the small porch of my condo is the only source of light. I know what’s going to happen before it does, but it doesn’t make me any less nervous.

  “I had a really good time tonight,” I tell him, using the most cliché line ever.

  But who cares, I’m so out of practice with dating that it’s a miracle I didn’t burp or jumble my words or drop my entire purse on the sidewalk instead.

  “Me too.” His blue eyes, which mirror the dark indigo of the night sky right now, are fixated on my lips.

  We meet in the middle, him bending from his sky-high height and me pushing up on my toes. Our lips fuse, and my mouth begins to work in tandem with his. His tongue tangles with mine, and before I know what’s happening, Walker has backed me against the front door. His hands are under my coat, roaming up and over my breasts encased in my shirt. My hands are tugging at his shirt collar, and we’re … well, I’d have to call it dry humping. It escalates so quickly, but I guess that’ll happen when you haven’t had sex, or orgasmed during sex, in as long as I have.

  I’m about to suggest him hauling me back to his truck when he breaks the kiss, more like rated-R make-out session, off.

  “Hannah, I know I’m going to regret this the minute I get back in my car, but we should stop.” He looks properly mussed, his lips swollen from where I’ve nipped at them.

  It only makes me want to continue exactly what we were doing, without thinking about any consequence that comes after.

  “Well, if you’re going to regret it, maybe we shouldn’t.” I’m weak and horny.

  He smiles ruefully. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you into the bed of my pickup right now. But … I want this to last. I’m serious about you, Hannah, and you have a lot going on. I don’t want to push too quickly too fast, because I want you to be comfortable. So as much as a lot of my body parts are screaming in protest, I’m going to say good night.”

  Walker lays one last gentle, but piercing, kiss on my lips, and my eyes stay closed for a few seconds after he pulls away.

  “Good night, Hannah.” I hear his smile in his voice.

  I stay on the porch until his truck drives off into the night, smiling like a damn fool.

  15

  Walker

  “Haven’t we seen enough of each other for more than half the year? Isn’t this supposed to be our detox time?”

  Hayes laments as he plops himself down at my kitchen island anyway, grabbing a beer out of the six-pack I set in the middle.

  “A bunch of the guys were bored, so I proposed a get together at my house. If you don’t want to stay, go home to your woman.”

  My former teammate harrumphs. “Colleen is working tonight, some late meeting with your father and some other executives. Our season may be over, but hers never stops.”

  I understand the bitterness in his tone. I’ve grown up that way, with my father gone for most of my childhood. The thing is, Dad liked the office more than he ever liked being at home. When Sinclair and I were growing up, if we didn’t have a baseball game on the schedule, he would attend every road trip. Back then, he wasn’t the owner, but still high up in the organization. It’s tough, loving someone who is so married to their job. I guess, from being on the other end of it myself, this is an unconscious reason I’ve never settled down. I’m in the prime of my career and have many years left to play the game I love. Being a husband, a father … it wouldn’t be easy for me to leave them all the time. I’ve always wondered if my father was concerned about being absent, but he’s never shown any sign that it’s bothered him. Part of me worries I’d turn into that, not caring if I was missing chunks of my family’s life.

  “And it never will. It’ll be something you have to live with, so get used to it. You plan on being with a powerful woman, and it will affect your life until she decides she wants to step back. Which I can’t see Colleen doing.”

  Hayes blinks at me. “Jeez, you could have slapped me and it would have felt better. I wasn’t complaining about how driven she is. I just miss
her when she’s gone so much. And no, I’m not going to start crying.”

  I shake my head to clear the cobwebs of childhood past. “Sorry, man, I was projecting. Colleen isn’t like that, though she’s very dedicated. It’s just … I grew up with a dad in the same position kind of, and he was gone more than he was around. I know you two are better at working through that then my parents ever were.”

  Hayes tilts his head. “Hm, didn’t think about that. I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what it was like to actually grow up in the Callahan brood.”

  “It’s interesting for sure. The last few years included. A trial, a scandal, an uncle in jail. Really wholesome family.” I roll my eyes.

  In truth, growing up a Callahan came with all the mystery and folklore that growing up a Kennedy might. We definitely aren’t as major as the Camelot bunch, but with a huge family, padded bank accounts, and one of the biggest dynasties in baseball, the buzz surrounding our family is hard to ignore. It never went to my head, I know how ordinary these people are, but there have been stories written about my baseball career since I joined the local little league at the age of five. The pressure has always been high, not only to succeed once my father saw I had talent on the field, but just as a member of my family in general.

  The doorbell saves us from getting any deeper, and then my house is infested with four other loud, opinionated athletes.

  “Should we play Call of Duty?” Clark asks, plucking a mozzarella stick off the hot appetizer tray I picked up from one of the local delis in town.

  I grab a jalapeño popper myself, already regretting letting these idiots in to argue in my kitchen.

  “Bro, we’re not fifteen. Can we at least play something that makes us sound a little mature, like poker?” Max, our left outfielder, asks.

  Jimenez, the catcher I’ve been playing with almost my entire career, rolls his eyes. “I’m tired tonight, boys, can’t we just chill? Watch a game, shoot the shit?”