The Athletic Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers

by Lucy McConnell

His face was full of peace and acceptance. Sometimes Isaac wished his son would fight back, that he’d make an issue out of something like this. Throw a fit. A tantrum. All the crap he’d gone through in life had prematurely aged him. “He’s right—I have my whole life to work.”

  She growled.

  Logan smiled. “But he’s wrong too.”

  “Hey.” Isaac held up a hand.

  “No offense, Dad. But you are.”

  “In what way?” Like Isaac didn’t already know. He just hoped whatever Logan said next didn’t hit too close to home.

  “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t play with friends; I hang out. I don’t have recess; I have gym. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m taller than you.”

  Isaac stretched to his full six-foot-one height—and he stared at Logan’s nose. Dang it. “This sucks.”

  Logan laughed. “Don’t take it too hard.”

  Wilting like a blade of grass in the summer sun, Isaac dropped his defenses. “I’m sorry, bud.”

  “S’okay, Dad. I don’t like you getting older either.”

  “Hey!” He playfully swiped at Logan, who dodged his arm and put Harper in front of him as a shield.

  Harper yelped.

  Isaac reached around her for Logan and the kid shoved Harper into his chest. She stumbled in her heels and Isaac caught her, bringing her close.

  “You two make up. I’m going to see if there’s any food left in the kitchen.”

  Harper’s gaze was all over his face, ducking to his lips and back up again. “Do we need to make up?”

  Isaac took in the feeling of holding her close, her body flush with his. “I can definitely say I’m not feeling any anger right now.”

  She bit her lip. “Me neither.”

  “Then I’d say we officially made up.” He brushed her hair off her face, trailing his fingers down her cheek. “I like it.”

  Harper’s hands trailed across his chest, up his shoulders, and down his arms, sending heat to wash over him. “I like it too.”

  Isaac leaned down, bringing his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, settling into this place where Harper belonged in his arms. She melted into him, her hands threading into his hair. He’d fought the desire to kiss her for so long that it had built to an overwhelming need.

  With his palm on her cheek, he pressed his lips to hers, letting the fire inside guide him as he deepened the kiss. She responded in kind, pulling him into her. Kisses had never been like this before. There had been passion, intensity, but not this overwhelming, full-body experience where feelings of love and protectiveness and hunger churned inside and flew around them.

  Harper moaned softly and he gathered her closer, lifting her off the ground.

  “That’s what I like to see,” Logan quipped as he came back in.

  Harper squeaked, her face turning red as Isaac gently placed her on her feet. She pulled her hands down to his chest, glancing up through her thick lashes. Isaac pressed a kiss to her hair.

  “Don’t stop on my account.” Logan took a large bite out of the sub sandwich he’d found somewhere.

  Isaac shook his head.

  Harper cleared her throat. “Regardless of how you feel about him working, you should be proud of your kid. He showed some major initiative.”

  “You saw me?” Logan asked.

  “I was watching out for you.”

  “I am proud. And I’m proud he’s my son.” He still had his arms around her. In fact, they were kind of stuck there, and he had no intention of wrangling them loose. “I’m sorry I overreacted. It’s just, I worked the stands when I was his age. Not for pocket change, but for pants that fit and haircuts and deodorant. Seeing him up there brought back that sense of desperation.” He turned to Logan. “I never want you to feel like that.”

  “I don’t, Dad. I know you’ve got my back.”

  Harper drummed her fingers on his chest. He could feel her cheeks lift against his skin as she smiled. “Then you’d probably like to know that he’s going to church with Ashley tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ve got a date?” That sprung Isaac’s arms free and he collapsed into the chair.

  Logan gave Harper the stink eye. “Well, it’s church, so not really, but sort of.”

  Isaac could hardly believe it. “Is this the girl you FaceTimed with this morning? Where did you meet her?”

  “Zeek took me to a youth service project, like, a week ago. Ashley and her friends were there.”

  Isaac couldn’t believe he was about to ask this question. “Do you like her, like her?”

  “Dad!” Logan’s cheeks turned hot pink.

  “It’s a valid question,” Harper threw in with a glint in her eye. She leaned as far forward as she could get and still remain standing, as anxious as Isaac for the answer.

  Logan smirked at her, more comfortable talking to Harper about girls than he was talking to his father. Which was okay, because Harper had Isaac’s back and he knew it. “She’s fine.”

  Harper laughed. “That’s guy talk for ‘she makes your tongue swell.’”

  Isaac really wanted to pull Harper into his lap and show her some true guy talk for I like her, like her.

  Logan threw both palms in the air. “We’re done here.” He practically ran from the room.

  Isaac and Harper laughed. Their eyes met and Isaac took her hand in his. “Ashley, huh?”

  She leaned close. “I already checked her out. She has a 3.7 GPA, is on the soccer team, active in this service group that visits assisted living centers and adopts grandparents, and goes to church on a semi-regular basis.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  Harper ducked her head. “I have my resources.”

  Isaac stood so he could run his finger down her cheek. “How am I ever going to make it through this? I hate, and I do mean hate, Logan growing up.”

  “Maybe you should talk to the team psychologist,” Harper teased.

  “Don’t joke. If my kid starts asking girls out, I’m going to have to do just that.”

  A worry line appeared between Harper’s eyebrows. “Isn’t the point of parenthood to work yourself out of a job?”

  Squeezing her middle and pulling her close once again, Isaac spoke quietly. “I wish you could have seen him when he came to live with us. His eyes were so big and his heart was behind all these layers of fear. I swore I’d keep him safe. It’s all I focused on for so long, I’m having a hard time stepping out of that role.”

  “I don’t think it’s a matter of stepping out of that role; I think it’s adapting that role to fit where he’s at in life. He may not need you in the same way, but he does need you, Isaac.”

  Isaac let her words settle into his mind. “With you around, I might just survive this transition.”

  Harper’s hands trailed up his arms. “I love a man in uniform,” she muttered.

  Isaac chuckled.

  “Holy cow, did I say that out loud?” Her hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Yeah, ya did—but it’s all good. I like this uniform too.” He was beginning to really find a place for him and Logan here. St. George was a home base for them, a place they could set down roots. A place he didn’t want to leave.

  As he pulled Harper in for another kiss, he realized it wasn’t St. George that was home; it was Harper. Their relationships, both working and personal, had twisted into his DNA as much as baseball. He couldn’t lose her—wouldn’t lose her. Because there was a difference between enjoying the win and hating to lose—and Isaac really hated losing. Losing meant anger, tears, and broken hearts. As much as Amy leaving had messed with him and Logan, he had a feeling losing Harper would be much, much worse.

  23

  Several days later, Isaac changed into his uniform for a Saturday afternoon game against San Diego. He made the rounds, reminding the hitters what they’d worked on during the week and making sure the shortstop’s bruise on his hip bone was healing nicely. Dustin had taken a line drive right
to the bone. The force had buckled him forward, flat on his face. The flesh was a nasty yellow, but that was better than the green and black from earlier in the week.

  A hush fell over the locker room and Isaac looked around for the reason. Harper stood near the doors, her hand over her eyes. “Everybody decent?” she called out.

  Isaac made sure the coast was clear as he went over to meet her. “You’re safe.”

  She dropped her hand and grinned, biting her lip as she looked his uniform over.

  “What are you doing here?” He touched her arm.

  “You know how I like a guy in uniform.” She plucked his shirt.

  “Yeah, but …” He looked over his shoulder.

  “I came down to wish the team good luck.” She leaned around him. “Good luck out there, guys. Go Redrocks!”

  “Redrocks!” The guys cheered. Well, most of the guys. Tuttle was in the corner under a mound of guilt and sorrow. The team had had Wednesday off between playing Boston and San Diego, and while most guys were getting some much-needed recovery time, Brian had spent the day in divorce mediation. He didn’t get custody of his kids, only visitation, and that was at his ex-wife’s discretion. The off season wouldn’t be too bad, but during the season they played almost every day and were on the road. He could go weeks without seeing his children and that had pummeled the guy to an emotional pulp.

  Harper’s hand landed on Isaac’s chest. She moistened her lips. “Good luck, Coach.” She winked before leaving.

  Isaac stared at the door for a full minute. Dang, she was sexy. Gathering his wits, he made his way to Brian. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s hard, man. Way harder than I even imagined. I haven’t seen my kids in seven days.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “They’re coming over tonight, after the game. I just want to hang out and watch movies and be normal for a while, ya know?”

  Isaac remembered how hard he’d worked to pretend things were normal after Amy left. His neck tightened up, the memories pulling his muscles into knots. “I do.”

  Brian threw his shoes in his locker.

  “Hey, focus on the game and then tonight focus on your kids. In fact, you’re excused from BP before the game tomorrow. Spend as much time with them as you can.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”

  Isaac headed off to the training room. Revisiting old times wasn’t a walk in the park. If he didn’t get some muscle cream on his neck, a migraine was sure to follow. He walked in to hear Blake Rygs say, “It’s only dinner.”

  Blake’s hand was on her forearm and his voice was soft, sincere even. Elise closed her eyes, fighting some inner battle. When she opened them, she saw Isaac in the doorway. “I can’t.” Her response was reluctant, not offended like it had been with Jackson. She hurried into the storage room where they kept things like icepacks and gauze.

  Blake turned to glare at Isaac. “You!”

  Isaac folded his arms. “Nobody bats a thousand, kid.”

  “I don’t want to bat a thousand. I want her.” He pointed to the open storage room door. “Thanks to your edict, she won’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Mixing romance and baseball is a bad idea.”

  “Says the coach who married the owner.”

  “I—well—”

  “That’s what I thought.” Blake bumped past him.

  Elise poked her head out. “Is he gone?”

  Isaac sighed. “For now. I don’t know how long he’ll stay away. We can have him take those classes with Jackson about workplace behavior and sexual harassment.”

  “No—he’s nothing like Jackson.”

  Isaac studied the doe-eyed look on her face. He’d seen that look a couple times in the mirror when he’d been caught up in thoughts of Harper. He needed to figure this out, but now was not the time. “Can I get some menthol cream?”

  “Sure.” She went back into the supply closet and came out with a small tube. “Make sure you wash your hands after you apply. This is strong stuff.”

  “I will, thanks.” Isaac squirted some of the minty gel into his palm and then worked it into the back of his neck.

  As he entered the locker room, all eyes were on him. “Game time,” said Coach Shipley.

  “Yeah, Coach. We were all waiting for one of your motivational speeches.” Juan chuckled.

  Isaac cocked his head, judging the feel of the room. Jackson leaned against his locker, his arms folded and his sunglasses on. He would spend the game in the bullpen; Zach Aden was starting for them today.

  Brian Tuttle was on the bench, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

  Blake glared at him with the mighty hate of a man who had been denied the chance to be with the woman he loved. Yet there was something in the air, a sense of brotherhood. And all this time, Isaac thought he’d been talking to the walls. He tucked the menthol cream in his pocket and clapped his hands together.

  “San Diego is coming off a losing series against New York. They’re hungry for a win and think we’re an easy target. Well, I say they’re wrong. You didn’t get here because you’re a loser. You were drafted because you’re a winner, and together we’re all winners. This is a team of winners. Don’t forget that when you step up to the plate.”

  “Red-rocks. Red-rocks,” Jimmy Holt began to chant.

  Isaac joined in, clapping his hands with the beat. Everyone came to their feet and gathered in the middle, the team name their battle cry. They ran into the dugout, screaming and yelling like a bunch of twelve-year-olds.

  It was wonderful.

  Isaac grinned at Shipley. “It’s starting to come together.”

  “You think they’ll win today?”

  “We’ve got a better shot today than we have any other day.”

  The first few innings were quick. Three-up and three-down for both teams. The Redrocks scored two runs in the fifth and San Diego matched them, plus one on an error.

  “Don’t let it get to you.” Isaac patted David Carpio, the second baseman, who’d overthrown home plate, allowing the tying run to cross home. David was fifth in the lineup and needed to keep his head in the game.

  “I won’t.” Blake hardly looked at him as he took a seat and folded his arms. The guy was pouting, or maybe just ticked off. Their first two batters had base hits. Blake grabbed his bat to head on deck. His shoulders slumped and his steps were small.

  “Rygs,” Isaac called him back.

  “What?”

  “Hit a double, and I’ll lift my no-dating staff policy.” He’d already intended to lift the ban, but this way, he might just tie the game. Besides, Blake had it in him to hit a homer; he’d done it a hundred times in practice.

  “Serious?”

  “Yep.”

  “You got it.” Blake strode out to the deck to warm up, determination lining his features.

  Isaac checked his grin. Nothing motivated a man like love for a beautiful woman. He should know. From day one, he’d wanted to make a run with this team to impress Harper. Wait. He hadn’t done all this for Harper. He’d wanted to build a team because that’s what God had made him for—baseball. But …

  What if God had made him for baseball so that Isaac could be the man Harper needed?

  The thought was so big and so overwhelmingly true that it didn’t fit inside the stadium. His whole life, all the bumps and scrapes and triumphs, had brought him to this place where he was fulfilling the measure of his creation by mentoring, coaching, and leading the Redrocks and loving Harper.

  Brock Mattock swung hard at a curveball and whiffed it. The fans groaned as he headed back to the dugout. One out.

  Blake stalked to the plate like a lion on the hunt. He jerked his chin to the pitcher and then lifted one side of his cheek in a cocky grin. This was the attitude Isaac wanted from all his players.

  The first pitch was outside and Blake let it go. He stepped out of the box, adjusted his grip on the bat, and jerked his chin at the pitcher again, daring him to put o
n over the plate.

  The next one was inside. Again, Blake let it go. Two balls, no strikes.

  Blake fouled off a breaking ball and a slider. Isaac was beginning to sweat. He took off his hat and swiped the moisture off his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Another foul ball and the count was 3 and 2. Shoot. He wanted this for Blake. Only Isaac and Blake knew he was up there battling for the woman he loved, but that made it all the more important that he win. “Come on, throw him something he can hit.”

  Another foul ball had fans scrambling in the stands. They were loving this. Isaac grinned. No one was asleep behind home plate today. Today, they were playing baseball the way it was meant to be played—as a battle between two opponents.

  He wiped a bead of sweat out of his eye, willing the pitcher to test his fastball. Blake loved the fastballs. Unfortunately, the pitcher knew that too, and he sent another curveball towards home. Another foul.

  Isaac’s eyes burned from squinting into the summer sun. Giving them a good rub, he turned his attention back to home plate just in time to see Blake smack the ball over the shortstop’s head, where it dropped ten feet in front of the centerfielder.

  The third base coach waved Juan, who had a massive lead off second plate, towards home as the outfielder scooped up the ball and sent it on a long flight towards the catcher. He held it as Turk, who had been on first, dove for the third base bag and Blake slid into second with a giant “WHOOP!” He pointed at Isaac, who tipped back his head and laughed.

  The dugout and stands erupted in celebration. Coach Shipley slapped Isaac on the back, bringing tears to his eyes. Blake bounced on the base.

  The game was tied and they had two outs left. Isaac wiped his eyes again. The southern Utah sun wasn’t messing around today.

  “Overwhelmed?” asked Shipley.

  “My eyes are burning,” laughed Isaac as he grinned.

  “Hey, someone bring Coach some glasses.”

  One of the bat boys ran over with a pair of aviator sunglasses. Isaac slid them on, thinking of Harper’s comment about a man with a Harley and a pair of aviators. If she could see me now. He pointed at Blake one more time. “Yeah!” he yelled.