Benching Brady (The Perfect Game Series)

by Samantha Christy

  While I used to think everyone else had better luck than I do, now I know my life has been a virtual walk in the park compared to some.

  I hope I will get to know these ladies enough to find out their stories.

  “Are you guys ready to watch the game?” Murphy asks.

  “I’ll make the popcorn,” Lexi says.

  I walk into the kitchen. “I’ll get the snacks and juice boxes for the kids.”

  Skylar opens a cabinet and finds some glasses. “I’ll pour the wine. Rylee, are you a wine drinker?”

  I point to a bag I brought with me and she walks over to pull two bottles out of it.

  “I knew we were going to get along great,” she says, laughing.

  The doorbell rings again and in walks a young girl.

  “Everyone, this is Alicia. She’s going to keep the kids busy so we can watch the game. Alicia, there are snacks on the counter and a selection of movies by the living room TV. We’ll be in the theater room if you need us.”

  Murphy messes with the electronics on the side wall until the game comes on the large screen. I’m excited to see the game. I really do like baseball. There were a lot of years that I thought my dad wished I was a boy because he took me to so many Saturday games growing up. He even put me on a baseball team when I was five. I played until I was eleven, when the boys started teasing me about getting boobs.

  My eyes are glued to the screen when they show the visitors’ dugout. I hope to catch a glimpse of Brady in his uniform, but the camera moves too fast. Caden gets a close-up when he walks out to go behind the plate. I look over to see Murphy watching the screen intently.

  “It never gets old,” she says. “I can’t believe that gorgeous man is mine.”

  “He is gorgeous,” Skylar says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Totally.”

  “Eeeew. You are talking about my brother,” Lexi broods.

  “Your brother who is gorgeous,” I say.

  “I have sex with that man,” Murphy teases her. “Lots and lots of sex.”

  Lexi throws a piece of popcorn at Murphy. “I do not need to hear that.”

  We eat and drink and talk as we’re watching the game. Then during the seventh-inning-stretch, I finally get my close-up of Brady as the announcers discuss his injury.

  “He’s traveling with the team now, so we can assume they believe he’s recovering,” one of them says.

  “I’ve never seen a six-month recovery from a simple elbow break,” the other announcer replies.

  “Obviously there is more to it than that. We’ve all seen bone breaks that end careers. But the rumor is he’s having nerve issues as well.”

  They go on discussing what may or may not happen in Brady Taylor’s future, and the whole time, they are either showing old game footage, the video of the hit that broke his elbow, or Brady talking with his teammates in the dugout.

  I can’t peel my eyes away from the screen. When they show him laughing, I reel over how roguishly handsome he is.

  “Now, there’s another gorgeous one,” Skylar says. “He might even give Caden competition in the looks department. It’s a shame about his arm. Think he’ll ever play again?”

  “He’ll play again,” I announce to the room.

  Murphy smiles and Lexi and Skylar question me with their eyes.

  “I’m his physical therapist,” I explain.

  “Wait,” Lexi says. “You aren’t the physical therapist from Tampa, are you?”

  I narrow my eyes at her.

  “I overheard my brother and Brady talking a few months ago about a girl from Tampa. Brady seemed very, um, enamored … which is decidedly uncharacteristic of him. Were they talking about you?”

  “It’s her,” Murphy says with a smile.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Lexi squeals. “Someone is finally going to tame the beast.”

  I about spit out my sip of wine thinking of Brady and the comment he made about his ‘beast.’

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I say.

  “I am,” Murphy says. “He’s moved into her building. He stopped sleeping around. The man is looking to settle down I tell you.”

  I give Murphy a scolding look. “Nobody is looking to settle down,” I say. “We’re not even officially dating. Not for seven more weeks anyway.”

  “What happens in seven weeks?” Skylar asks.

  I roll my eyes thinking about our silly deal. “He wanted me to give him two months to prove himself to me.”

  “Prove himself?” Skylar asks.

  “Brady is … was … kind of slutty,” I explain. “And there are a lot of girls in the cities they travel to who would like him to remain that way.”

  “My bets are on Brady,” Lexi says.

  “Mine too,” Murphy says. “Do you know that he’s rooming with Caden?”

  “What?” My eyes snap to hers. “Why? I thought they all got their own room.”

  “I guess he’s trying to prove something to you.”

  I shrug sadly. “Or maybe he thinks he’ll give in to temptation if he has his own room.”

  “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt until he proves otherwise, okay?” she says.

  I nod. “Caden doesn’t mind having a roommate?”

  “No, not at all. Unless he snores. He doesn’t snore, does he?”

  “Don’t know,” I say before taking a sip of wine. “I never slept with him.”

  Murphy stares me down skeptically.

  I roll my eyes. “I never fell asleep with him.”

  “Well, when you do start dating, have him bring you to Mitchell’s,” Skylar says.

  “He’s bringing me there next Saturday,” I tell her.

  “And yet you’re not dating,” Lexi says smiling.

  “Semantics,” Murphy says.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I plead.

  Lexi looks back at the screen and squeals. We all look to see what happened, and on the replay, they show Sawyer Mills stealing home.

  “Well, since the most eligible bachelor on the Nighthawks is about to be taken, looks like that slot has just been filled by number fifty-five.” She nods to his picture plastered up on the screen.

  “From what I hear, the guy is as bad as Brady,” I say.

  “And yet Brady has been tamed,” Lexi says. She sees my unappreciative stare and holds up her hands. “Fine, fine, no more talk about the former playboy of baseball.”

  “Wow, he’s super-fast,” Skylar says, watching another replay.

  “They call him Speed Limit,” Murphy says.

  “Why?”

  “He’s fast and his number is fifty-five,” Murphy explains. “Sawyer hates it when they call him that.”

  “I think it’s a great nickname,” I say.

  “Since when has the speed limit been fifty-five?” Skylar asks.

  Murphy laughs. “I know, right? But I think his grandfather called him that when he got assigned the number.”

  “I guess it is kind of catchy,” she says. “What’s his story?”

  Everyone looks to Murphy who seems to know more about the players than anyone.

  She shrugs. “Beats me. All I know is that management hates him man-whoring around. He has no shame. Sleeps with just about anyone in a short skirt. But never more than once. He’d better watch himself or he’ll turn up in a ditch somewhere after he’s pissed off one too many boyfriends or husbands.”

  “What do you mean never more than once?” Skylar asks.

  “He never takes a girl out more than one time,” Murphy tells her.

  “He must be seriously messed up,” Skylar says.

  “You never know what drives people to do what they do,” I say.

  Murphy gives me a knowing look. “Yeah, you never know. Don’t go judging a book by its cover.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Skylar says. “I was quite a slut myself back in the day, so I have no right to judge anyone.”

  I raise my brow at her.

  “Long s
tory,” she says. “But if you really want to know, go buy the book my sister wrote about it.”

  “That’s right,” I say. “Murphy told me your sister is a famous romance author.”

  Lexi laughs. “Don’t let Baylor hear you call her famous. She hates that. And I’m her assistant. I’ll get you the book and any others you want to read.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say. “I could use a good book.”

  “Let’s do a real girls’ night,” Murphy says. “I haven’t been out with your sisters in forever, Skylar. And Lexi’s sisters-in-law could come too. No boys, no kids.”

  “That sounds heavenly,” Lexi says. “I’ll set it up.”

  We watch the rest of the game and hang out drinking wine until some of the kids start getting cranky.

  It isn’t until I get home that I realize I missed a text.

  Brady: Heading to bed now. Alone, by the way. It’s been a long day. Sweet dreams, Ry.

  It’s the first time he’s texted me since we were in Tampa.

  I smile. But I don’t text him back. My mother taught me long ago never to text a man after you’ve been drinking. And now I understand why. There are so many things I want to say – but shouldn’t.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I’ve resisted the urge to use his key again. I wanted to so badly. I wanted to sneak up and lie on his bed to smell his scent. I’ve thought of excuses for going. Maybe I left lights on. Did I close the balcony door tightly enough? Anything that would give me a reason to visit 16F one more time while he was away.

  But I never went up. And now it’s Thursday. He’s coming home. I wonder if he’s going to like the way I arranged his furniture. I wonder how long it will take for him to invite me up.

  I wonder how long my willpower will hold out before I cave and accept his invitation.

  I never responded to his nightly texts telling me he was in bed alone. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t think it was appropriate that we start having conversations while we were in bed.

  “Mommy is crazy,” I tell Stryker as we eat grilled cheese sandwiches and apple slices. I whirl my finger in a circle around my ear and he mimics me.

  “What is it about him?” I ask no one. “He’s so wrong for me. I’m so wrong for him.”

  There’s a knock on my door. I’m not expecting anyone so I look through the peep hole.

  It’s him.

  My heart thunders as I look down at my t-shirt, yoga pants and bare feet. I pull my hair from the ponytail and give it a fluff before I open the door casually like I don’t care who’s behind it.

  Brady doesn’t say a word. He just lets his eyes wander over my face. Then my shirt, my legs and finally my feet. “You are a sight,” he says.

  I snicker. “Well, if you’re going to show up unannounced, you get what you get.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Ry. You’re beautiful. I missed you.”

  I smile, not wanting to reveal just how much I’ve missed him too. “How do you like the apartment? Did I mess anything up?”

  He nods to his large duffle bag on the floor of the hallway. “I haven’t been up yet. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  “You haven’t seen it yet?”

  “I wanted to come by and thank you first.”

  I walk over to the counter and pick something up. “Of course. You wanted to come get your key. Here it is,” I say holding it out to him.

  Stryker comes up behind me. “Hello, baseball man.”

  “His name is Brady, Stryker. Not baseball man.”

  Brady laughs. “It’s okay. I kind of like the sound of baseball man.” He reaches down into a side pocket of his bag and pulls out a stuffed animal snake. He hands it to Stryker. “Here you go, champ … uh” —he runs his hand through his hair and bites his lower lip. Hard— “Stryker. Here you go, Stryker.”

  “It’s a rattlesnake, Mommy. See the tail?”

  “Say thank you, Stryker.”

  “Thank you, baseball man.”

  “You’re welcome,” Brady says.

  Stryker goes to play with his new toy on the couch.

  I try to hand Brady the key a second time.

  “Keep it,” he says.

  “I’m not keeping your key, Brady.”

  “Don’t you think it’s important for someone else to have a key to your place? You know, for emergencies?”

  “Yes. He’s called the super.”

  “Just put it in your junk drawer and forget about it if you need to, but I’d really like you to keep it.”

  I put it on the table. “For emergencies only,” I say. “Do you want something to eat? I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  Brady smirks at my mention of a sandwich. Then he eyes Stryker on the couch. He shakes his head. “No, I’m good, but thanks for asking. I should probably go check out the new pad and get some sleep.”

  I nod to his arm. “How are you? How’s the hand?”

  “I wore through another stress ball this week. But it’s basically the same.”

  “Are you coming in for an appointment tomorrow?”

  “Ten o’clock. I’ll go right to practice from there. Are you going to the game tomorrow night?”

  I shake my head. “There are only so many nights I can get a babysitter. I’ll watch it on TV though.”

  “Are we still on for Saturday? Do you have a sitter?”

  “I found a great one.” I nod to the door at the end of the hall. “She lives right down there. Dinner at Mitchell’s, right?”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he says, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I have one more question, Rylee.”

  “What is it?”

  “How come you didn’t answer my texts?”

  I step outside into the hallway so my son doesn’t hear me. “I guess I didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you for keeping your dick in your pants’ just didn’t seem right, but I didn’t know what was.”

  He laughs. “Ry, you never have to thank me for keeping my dick in my pants when I’m away. It’s a given. And I know if I don’t, you go away. It’s not going to happen.”

  “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  He checks his watch. “Six weeks and three days.” He leans close. “I dreamed about what I’m going to do to you on that day.”

  I look up at him and see the heat in his eyes. He drops his bag on the floor. “I’m going to kiss you, Rylee Kennedy.”

  My tongue comes out to wet my lips just before his mouth claims mine. My body falls against the wall of the hallway as he kisses me. His hands wander around to my neck, then down my arms and finally, he grabs each of my hands in his.

  He pulls away, leaving me wanting more. This kiss was just a teaser. A glimpse of what’s yet to come.

  “Mmmm,” he mumbles. “You taste just like grilled cheese. Kind of makes me want one now.”

  Then he backs up and walks away. But I call out after him. “Brady?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I put your sheets on your bed and hung your towels in the bathroom. Whoever labeled your boxes did a very good job and I found them easily. I, uh, didn’t go through any other boxes. I just thought you might be tired when you got home.”

  He smiles and walks back to me, kissing me once more. “Thank you. That was very considerate. I knew you were the right person for the job. Maybe you could come help me unpack my kitchen this weekend. On Sunday before your mom comes to dinner and we leave again?”

  I’m impressed that he remembered my mom comes to dinner on Sundays. And it takes me all of two seconds to cave into this man and say yes. “I’m not going anywhere near your bedroom, Taylor.”

  “I’m okay with that. Besides, just knowing you’ve already been there is good enough for me.” He studies me for a second. “Did you lie down on my bed, Ry? Tell me the truth.”

  I shrug innocently. “I might have just for a second. It was a long afternoon.”

  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear
you say that. Now I can fantasize about you on my bed and know you’ve been there.”

  I feel heat come up my face. He laughs as he walks away. “You don’t expect me to refrain from all sex, do you?” he jokes, holding out his left hand. “I’m willing to bet my PT would call that some damn fine therapy. Gives the hand a hell of a workout.”

  I’m sure I’ve turned three shades of red when he spins around and gives me a wink before getting on the elevator.

  I take a second to collect myself before going back through my door. I almost can’t wait for bedtime. And when I finally crawl under the covers and my hand wanders beneath my panties, I look up at the ceiling, wondering if Brady is thinking about me at this exact moment. And wondering if he’s doing what I am.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  For weeks he’s been courting me. With his words. With his looks. With his kisses.

  He texts me every night after his away games. Sometimes he even calls. Sometimes we talk on the phone for hours. Sometimes we just listen to each other breathe, having run out of things to say, but not wanting to hang up.

  Two more weeks until June 1st and I can hardly stand it. I long for his hands to be on me. But he’s been the perfect gentleman, never pushing me to give more than what we’d agreed upon.

  He came for Sunday dinner again and my mother is completely enamored with him. Of course it could be because she thinks he’s my dad.

  And he’s trying with Stryker, too. No matter how much I know it hurts, he’s trying. He brings my son a stuffed animal representative of each city he visits. He’s still standoffish with him, however. Understandably so. But we’re a package deal. And no matter how much Brady and I get along, this will never work if he can’t fully accept my son.

  My phone pings and I smile. Eleven o’clock. Just like always.

  Brady: Did you catch the game?

  Me: I saw the highlights. It looked good.

  Brady: It was. God, Ry, you have no idea how much I want to be out there.