Home Run: A Texas Heat Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  It had been bad enough this first week back at the firm. It was either embarrassed looks or amused smirks from other associates. The worst had been the female partner who had taken Jordan aside to give her a “wee bit of advice”: It’s hard enough being a female—a black female—trying to make partner one day, don’t shoot yourself in the foot by making ill-advised comments in front of the press.

  Duly noted.

  The article—blog—had just been the start of it all. YouTube had several videos of her confrontation with Carter, which only fanned the flames. Jordan and Roy and Pat, Ben’s parents, had been hounded non-stop this week by the media. Ben’s mom had curtailed it on their end, and Jordan had refused all offers for an interview on hers. That hadn’t stopped the media from figuring out everything about her: where she went to law school; where she was working this summer; where she was staying with her parents. Someone had even published her class rank at UT! How did these people get this stuff?

  It was terrifying, mostly because a lot of perfect strangers seemed to have an opinion on the matter. Unfortunately, a good portion of it wasn’t very favorable to Jordan. The internet being what it was, the comments ranged from mean-spirited to just plain vile:

  This is what happens when girls try to catch the ball, leave it to the men, ladies…

  Maybe if she hadn’t been showing so much T & A herself, then…

  If Carter Fox gets traded out because of some dumb…

  She can hold on to my balls any day! In fact, I’d let her…

  Jordan decided then and there to stop indulging any and all forms of media related to Carter Fox. She just hoped Ben was doing the same.

  She kept thinking back to that day and how it would have been completely different if one tiny thing had been altered. Maybe if she’d stayed down at the bottom of the stands with the rest of the crowd. Maybe if she’d held her glove a little bit lower and missed catching it. Maybe if she’d just let it hit her in the damn head; she would probably have less of a headache right now.

  Jordan closed out the page on LoneStarStateBaseball.com and pulled up the case she was supposed to be researching. It was better than torturing herself any further with that damn blog.

  6

  Gone was the snug t-shirt that showed off the tattoos and muscles. Gone were the faded jeans that left only a little to the imagination. Gone were the worn out cowboy boots. Gone was the 2-day old stubble that gave him a rough edge. Most of all, gone was the smug, fuck-me smirk that drove the ladies crazy.

  The new Carter Fox had donned the official mea culpa uniform of every sinner, hat in hand, begging the public for forgiveness: a plain, light blue dress shirt (that covered each and every tattoo); gray slacks (leaving everything to the imagination); brown loafers (loafers, for Christ’s sake!); and a clean shaven face. As instructed by the higher ups and the P.R. team, his face was set in a permanent expression of remorse.

  The last part hadn’t been too hard to achieve. If he could, Carter would have gone back in time and never hit that damn home run, if only to avoid this circus.

  But Carter Fox had made the bed, now he was lying in it, and rightfully, so. He was here to play a role after all: reformed bad boy. Or at least until the public screamed for the old Carter Fox back. Eventually, they would.

  Bad boys always finished first.

  The room finally settled down as the P.R. rep for the team stood in front to urge everyone to quiet down.

  “Carter Fox will be making a brief statement, then we will open the floor up to questions.”

  The rep nodded to him and Carter relayed the statement that had been etched into his brain, lest he forget even a single line.

  “Most of you are aware of the unfortunate incident that happened on July 23rd after the game against the Rockies. I won’t go into details, but I made an inappropriate remark to a young woman who was only trying to get me to meet with her cousin and get an autograph. My comments to Miss Jordan Douglas were completely out of line and inexcusable, and I offer my most sincere apology to both her and her cousin, Ben Douglas, as well as any fans who happened to have heard my remarks.

  “Miss Douglas, my words do not reflect the opinions of the Sluggers’ franchise, players, managers, or owners toward their female fans.” They had made damn sure to include that little tidbit. “Ben Douglas, I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to meet with you, especially after learning how much of a fan you are.

  “I would like to make it very clear that I value each and every one of my fans. Without them, I would not have a career. I especially value those fans who take time out to meet with me personally.

  “Again, I regret what happened that day. Since I did not get a chance to meet with Ben Douglas after the game that day, I am offering a personal invitation to meet with him at the Sluggers’ Stadium. I know this will not erase, or make up for what happened on the day in question, but I hope it will at least make it so that the Sluggers haven’t lost a fan. I look forward to finally meeting you, Ben Douglas.”

  Carter lifted his eyes to the crowd below him and moved in closer to the microphone.

  “I also look forward to meeting Miss Jordan Douglas again, if she’s willing to give me another shot as well.” He couldn’t help the shit-eating smirk that came over his face. The old Carter Fox wasn’t entirely gone.

  “Thank you. I’ll now take questions.”

  That last bit was an ad-lib on his part, and he’d probably get raked over the coals for it. He truly did want to meet Ben. Carter loved kids and nothing thrilled him more than seeing some boy or girl in the Sluggers’ royal blue hat and jersey.

  He couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t hurt to have Ben’s cousin along for the ride. After all, Carter loved women too.

  Of course there were questions. There were always questions. Hopefully, they would stay on point. The good news was, this time around Lucas Grabow did not get a press pass.

  Carter pointed to Mason Ward of Channel 4.

  “Carter, how do you respond to some of the offensive comments written online about the incident by some of your fans?”

  Carter had read enough of the online forums to get a picture of what Mason was talking about. He had felt the same rage as he had when he’d seen Jordan get physically attacked. Now she was getting attacked via social media and he felt, in some small way, responsible.

  “I’d like to first make it very clear that anyone who uses sexist, racist, or any other offensive language might as well stop being a fan of mine right now. I don’t condone, nor do I screw around that sort of talk. I’d also like to make it clear that Miss Jordan Douglas is in no way, shape, or form responsible for any repercussions on my part. I’m the one in the wrong here.”

  He’d probably get heat for telling people they could stop being fans, but Carter didn’t care. It made him sick some of the things people had said. At the very least, he didn’t want the likes of that tainting his image. There was a fine line between bad boy and degenerate scum.

  Next up was Connie Ortiz of Fox 11 News. “Carter, to date you’ve had a reputation for being a bad boy and a bit of a playboy. Is today the start of a reformed Carter Fox?” It was all very tongue-in-cheek, perfect for a light-hearted wrap-up in the evening news.

  “Who knows, Connie,” he said grinning, happy to play along, “I may have just found the woman to cure me of my wicked ways.”

  There was an appreciative laugh from the reporters.

  There was one person in the back who wasn’t laughing.

  “I don’t know why you insist on pushing the envelope all the damn time, Carter.”

  Madison Grant, her maiden name, thank you very much, was not pleased. The 5’9”, former Miss Brazos County with a head of flaming red hair—which may or may not be dyed, don’t you dare inquire—was sitting beside him in his truck. One lit Marlboro was tucked securely between two perfectly red lacquered fingernails. Carter wished she would quit those damn things.

  He was driving her back to her Houston condo in
his pick-up truck. They were going to have dinner at her place. In her words, she “just wanted to spend an evening having dinner with the son, whom she hardly ever gets to see.”

  Carter found it interesting that her dismay at hardly ever seeing him only seemed to materialize when one of his particularly scandalous escapades hit the tabloids. Madison liked to “strategize,” a term that meant that Carter might as well clear his schedule for the evening. What in the world did he have an agent for, when his mother took control of everything?

  There wasn’t a woman on earth that could bend Carter Fox to their will—save this one, even at 26 years old. At some point, he’d have to renegotiate exactly what their mother-son relationship should be like. The thought made him exhausted. It was easier to just let his mother have her occasional intrusions into his life than sit her down for a come to Jesus talk. No wonder he’d never had a long-term girlfriend, let alone a wife. One controlling woman in his life was enough.

  Carter supposed he put up with it for so long mostly out of guilt. She had raised him well, and for damn near all of it, single-handedly. He certainly hadn’t made it easy for her. A good deal of his adolescence had been spent sneaking in and out of girls’ windows and chugging beers with friends lifted from their parents’ fridges in empty parking lots. He had the natural talent and an obviously amazing swing, but that would have gone to waste before he even finished high school if she hadn’t kept a firm hand on things. Eventually, he’d managed a scholarship to Texas A&M. Carter had mostly her to thank for what his life was now.

  Heaven knew his “dad” had had little to do with it.

  “This is not some bimbo you’re dealing with here,” she went on. “She could cause serious problems. And there you are—in front of reporters—still making passes at her. If you’re lucky, she won’t take you up on this offer to join this cousin of hers when you finally meet with him. You need to stay focused on this kid, not salivating over his cousin.”

  Carter suppressed a smile. His mother knew him too well. He thought back to the woman in the royal blue tank top and shorts. For probably the hundredth time, he wondered what she would look like underneath all those clothes.

  The smile broke through.

  “Dammit Carter, you don’t stop do you?”

  He turned to see his mother casting a scrutinizing glare at him. Leave it to her to read his mind. Yeah, it was probably for the best if Jordan Douglas didn’t take him up on his offer.

  7

  “The secret is in the grip.”

  Carter adjusted Ben’s hands around the baseball. He was on the field at the Sluggers’ stadium with Ben Douglas—sans his older cousin. The other players warmed up in the outfield and the two of them momentarily had the diamond to themselves. Carter was fulfilling his promise to him by giving the boy some time before tonight’s game. Thanks to the higher ups, there were more than a few members of the press and the team’s official P.R. rep in the stands taking note of everything they did. Ben’s parents were standing in front of the dugout watching as Carter instructed their son on how to throw a proper pitch.

  Ben was in a wheel chair, which had originally thrown Carter off. But as he had explained it, he wanted to “try and pitch a few balls. My friends are gonna go apeshit when they hear about it.”

  “Ben!” his mother had scolded.

  Ben had given her a dutiful look of remorse, then secretly grinned at Carter.

  It was a feeling Carter could empathize with. Moms.

  They had spent the morning touring the stadium and meeting the other team members. Now they were on the field so Ben could get the full VIP experience.

  “See how both the fingers and the thumb are on the seam? That helps you keep a firmer grip until release.”

  Ben just smiled and nodded, probably only caring that Carter Fox was actually touching his hand.

  Carter had to admit that the smile was addictive. He hadn’t relished the thought of playing tour guide, even to a kid. Especially, when that kid had failed to bring his hot older cousin. But this kid knew his baseball. He’d been able to rattle off the stats for every player. It was refreshing to see a fan who hadn’t just jumped on the Sluggers bandwagon, but actually appreciated the sport.

  “Got it,” Ben said, fixing his fingers firmly around the ball. “This has been great, Carter, best day of my life.”

  That made Carter almost embarrassedly pleased. “Maybe you could pass that on to your older cousin,” he suggested with a wink as he back-walked toward home plate.

  “Oh no, Jordan is supposedly on a Carter Fox blackout.” Ben rolled his eyes.

  That stopped Carter in his tracks. “Really?”

  Ben gave him a speculative look, then gave a sly smile. “Yeah.”

  He could obviously read Carter’s interest in her like a book. He was annoyed to find that it was so glaringly obvious. He could get any woman he wanted and one 12-year-old was making him feel like a damn teenager with a high school crush.

  “But I think she secretly likes you,” Ben confessed, rolling his eyes again. “You know how girls are.”

  Carter had no idea how girls were—did any guy?—but he was no longer back-walking at this point. Instead, he took a few steps right back toward Ben, his curiosity officially piqued.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked with a half grin.

  “She keeps telling everyone not to talk about you. But then she keeps bringing you up.”

  Carter’s smile grew. So little Ms. Douglas also had a crush on Carter Fox.

  Then an idea struck him.

  “You know…I haven’t had a chance to express my sincere apology to her in person yet. I’d really love to, maybe even over the phone?” He raised his eyebrows at his new confidant, hoping he’d take the bait.

  Ben didn’t need a road map, but he hesitated. “She’d kill me if I gave you her number.”

  “I can respect that,” Carter said, nodding solemnly. “Maybe you could give her my number instead.”

  Where the hell had that come from? He never—ever—gave women his number. That was a recipe for disaster. Fortunately, Ben saved him from himself.

  “She’d never call you,” he retorted, actually laughing.

  Now Carter found himself feeling slightly offended. What woman wouldn’t jump at the opportunity for Carter Fox’s personal number?

  Ben saw his expression and gave him an empathetic look. “The thing is, I like my cousin. A lot. She’s really cool. Not like most girls.”

  Carter nodded again, with a small smile.

  “No, I mean really,” Ben said, maintaining the serious expression on his face. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt her.”

  Carter came in closer and knelt next to Ben.

  “Listen, I have no intention of disrespecting your cousin. You’re right, she’s…something else.” Carter removed his baseball cap and brought it down to his chest in a grand gesture. “And with your permission, sir, I would formally like to ask her out to dinner.”

  Ben reacted to the over-the-top formality by laughing, the way Carter hoped he would.

  “Okay, let’s just say that my phone just happens to be in the left pocket of the backpack on the back of my chair, and Jordan’s number just happens to be in the contact list,” Ben said. “If she threatens to kill me, I’m blaming everything on you.”

  “Way to cover your ass,” Carter teased, laughing. Then, he went ahead and reached into the pocket. Ben even made a show of idly looking in the opposite direction as he did it.

  As Carter cemented the ten-digit number to memory he thought to himself that at least there was on ally on his side.

  8

  It was all Ben’s doing.

  The entire family, gathered at her parents’ house, had watched Carter play an abysmal game. Jordan was staying there for the summer to save money thanks to her exorbitant student loans. She didn’t even have to be a fan to know that Carter had pretty much sucked that night. The Sluggers had lost 3-7.

  After
the game, Ben gave her a slightly pleading look.

  “If he happens to call you, can you maybe just go out with him if he asks?”

  “If he happens to call? Wait a sec, how would he happen have my number?”

  “Uh, well…”

  “Why you little…”

  “Don’t get mad. I just thought it would be really cool if my cousin was dating Carter Fox.”

  “So you just gave it to him?” she said, actually laughing in disbelief.

  “So you’ll go out with him?” Ben said, getting hopeful.

  She didn’t answer, making him wait as a small form of punishment. Then she sighed.

  “If he calls, I’ll think about it.” The whole idea of going out with Carter Fox was absurd.

  Jordan hadn’t watched his press conference herself, sticking to her Carter Fox media blackout. From what she could piece together from others, he had actually given a rather sincere apology. In fact, a tiny part of her had been a bit flattered at some of the tidbits she’d heard he’d said regarding her.

  But by now he had surely moved on to the next bright young thing to catch his eye.

  “He’ll call,” Ben said, countering her doubt with firm assuredness. “You bring good luck.”

  “What?” She laughed, giving him a skeptical look.

  “Just look at how great this summer has been for me since you came back,” he had said,

  Now he was just grasping at straws. “Yeah, and not so great for me,” she said, chuckling.

  “Maybe you two can be good for each other?”

  “Like I said, I’ll think about it,” she said noncommittally.

  Ben was smart enough to realize that was the best he would be getting.

  Jordan was smart enough to know someone like Carter Fox would never call her.

  She was jolted awake in a panic by the loud noise coming from the nightstand right next to her head.