Curveball Baby

by J. M. Maurer

  “Eight months,” I correct her. “It’s been over eight months since I first laid eyes on you. Eight months since I started caring about something else more than I ever cared about baseball. And that’s you, Addison. You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened in my life. Please, I need you to believe me. I really do want this.”

  From the glimmer of hope sparkling in her eyes I can tell she wants this too. But then as quickly as I see it, she blinks, completely washing away the emotion.

  She tosses me a smile that wavers, then softly shakes her head. “This isn’t how I ever imagined being proposed to.”

  I kick myself for not thinking about this very thing beforehand. Of course she deserves a better proposal than the one I just did. Chastising myself for my lame attempt, I silently vow to prove my love to her and start by pulling her into my arms and lifting her body up and over my lap so we’re face to face.

  “Please don’t say anything just yet. Addison, you need to believe me. When I say I’m not going anywhere, I mean it.”

  She dips her face into the crook of my neck, almost nuzzling her lips in against my beard, and cups a gentle hold around my head before whispering into my ear, “I believe you. And I’m glad you’re planning on staying.”

  It’s all she says, but for now, it’s enough. The way she tucks her body in against me reinforces what I’ve seen all along in her actions. Add in the strength behind the way she holds on to me with the expression she slips onto her face when she doesn’t realize I’m looking, and I know she needs more time, and more proof that I’m not going anywhere because I love her more than anything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Addison

  Something’s up.

  I close the hood to my SUV. “You want me to stay? Here, with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Ben says, slipping every pleading emotion known to man on and off his handsome face.

  I lean in ever so slightly. “Don’t you find it a bit strange how a battery from a new car suddenly goes missing?”

  “I’ll get you a new one. First thing tomorrow morning,” Ben insists, entirely bypassing the point.

  As a resident of Willow Run since inhaling my first breath, I know a thing or two about this community. Batteries just don’t go missing around here. I also know Ben didn’t take it. He’s not left my side. But who did take it?

  Blowing my bangs from my face, I lean back against the front grill and cross my arms for warmth, my mind jumbled in thought over what I should do. “I have no doubts you will.”

  “Look,” Ben says, straddling my legs as he scoots in close and takes my hips into his hands. When he meets my gaze, his eyes glisten in the darkness. “This is your childhood home, Addison. If being here makes you uncomfortable, I’ll understand. But if being here feels right, then please stay.”

  He’s going all out, flashing me those puppy dog eyes. The sight blends with an emotion I’ve seen from him a few other times. He’s determined. And I have a feeling he’s not coming down from his makeshift mound until he feels he’s more than finished the job. Nope, he’s bound and determined to talk me into staying.

  Intrigued, I stand in the batter’s box, eagerly listening to each additional pitch he sends my way.

  “This’ll give us more time together. I don’t like being so far away from you.”

  Strike one.

  Like my apartment’s really that far away. It’s a couple of miles, at most. Knowing this, I lift a brow, feeling his fingers slip from my hips to caress my rounded belly. I know the look on his face; here comes pitch number two.

  “I don’t like knowing you’re all by yourself. It’s safer for both you and the baby for us to be together.”

  Strike two.

  Safety is a good thing. As is the closeness I feel when he holds me in his special way and lights my insides on fire from all the sexy things he says.

  I inwardly smile, and wait patiently for the next pitch. After all, this is Ben. And Ben Peterson is merely doing his thing.

  Enchanted, I already know I won’t be swinging.

  “Addison.” He caresses my arms, his eyes glistening under the moonlight, his expression shifting even more serious. “I want you here with me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  Strike three.

  And it’s the most beautiful buzzing sound I’ve ever heard, his words laced with heartfelt determination, each one encased with what to me feels like…love. With that, Ben talks me into staying. Not just for the night, but indefinitely.

  He uses the word “forever,” even though he unknowingly had me at “Please stay.”

  Spellbound and eager to give our growing relationship a try, I don’t argue. What’s there to argue about?

  He’s just told me I’m more important to him than the game of baseball.

  It’s not what I thought he was going to say. And if I’m honest with myself, I’ve wanted him since our day together out in the woods—well before he unceremoniously popped the question.

  I believe him. His words feel real. Ben wants me in his life as much as I want him in mine. And after all he’s done for me, why wouldn’t I believe him? If it’s not what he wants, why would he have come back to Willow Run in the first place? Why would he go so far as to ask me to marry him?

  Because it’s the noble thing to do.

  I push the thought to the back of my mind, storing it where it’ll still creep up on me from time to time. My reasons for keeping Ben at arm’s length are fading. I’m no longer the daughter of a politician. I don’t have to do things by the book. People are already talking. And I no longer feel like I’m the thorn in Ben’s golden arm, or the story from his off-season that would tarnish his glowing career in baseball.

  I’m falling hard for Ben Peterson. Fast. But what if this doesn’t work out? We’ve both gone through loss. Could he be doing this because it’s what he thinks is right? Or because it’s what his parents would have told him to do?

  Surely none of this is about that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ben

  My body feels like goo the instant her lips touch mine. I let her control the pace tonight, but I want her to know how I feel, especially when she places a gentle hold on the side of my head where it was once broken into pieces.

  A moan escapes my throat each time her fingers caress that spot. I can’t help it. She has this special touch. It always makes me respond this way. But I don’t want her thinking I’m only after one thing because I’m not. Even so, I can’t hold back long, and deepen the kiss, hoping to show her exactly how I feel. I want all of her—her sharp mind, her curvy body, and her ever-loving heart.

  I once thought baseball was everything. I know different now. Now I know Addison. And Addison Hunt is what I want.

  Slowing the kiss, she taps my lips once more, adding in a smile that tells me she’s content with her decision to stay. But I need to know she’ll be okay here. I won’t move forward with my plans until I’m sure this is everything she wants.

  I take her hand, lead her past a wooden staircase and a second downstairs bedroom that’s set up as an office, and on to the last room off to the left. The master suite. Complete with a king-sized bed, a chaise lounge, a fireplace, and a master bath most every woman would dream of. Her eyes grow wide as she steps inside. I watch carefully, trying to get a bead on how she’s feeling about the updates to her old home, and what she might be thinking as she checks out the space.

  Eventually, she returns to my side, threads her fingers through mine, and lifts her pink lips into a grin. “This is beautiful. It’s so much larger now than before. The entire house looks a lot different than it did when I lived here. But I love what they’ve done, and I can see why you decided to come back for another vacation.”

  Unintentionally, I squeeze her hand far harder than I should and set to smolder her with my gaze. “I didn’t come back to this house for a vacation. I came back for you.”

  Why do you not know this? Haven’t I picke
d up my game?

  Whatever it takes, I’ll pitch into extra innings for this woman if I have to.

  Her eyes gloss over as she works to normalize the pressure I’ve unknowingly placed around her fingers, and then takes a brief moment appearing to digest what I’ve just said. “And I’m really glad you did,” she says, her tone softer, a pensive expression covering her face. “But when do you have to go back to Cincinnati?”

  I move my head like I’m shaking off a catcher who’s arguing with me over a pitch I don’t want to throw. “Do you honestly think I’m leaving you? I’m clearly not communicating this well. Addison, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her eyes shift down to our hands, where her thumbs are running back and forth along my skin. “Honestly,” she says with a sigh. “What I hope for and what happens often don’t end up being the same thing. And I’m sure you can’t stay here forever.”

  I lift her chin, returning her line of sight to mine. “I can, Addison. And all those things you hope for, I want to be the one who makes them come true.” Please, let me prove it to you.

  In time, her blue eyes soften with the same calmness the lake has when there isn’t a breeze. “I haven’t been upstairs in years. Would you like to see my room?”

  I pull her closer, holding her gaze. “If you’d like to tell me every childhood story you’ve got stored up in that stubborn head of yours, I’d be happy to stay up all night and listen to them. But sweetheart, I already know which bedroom is yours. And it’s not any of the ones upstairs.”

  A rosy hue spreads across her face as she chomps down on her lower lip and lifts a knowing brow. “Ooh.”

  I can see the wheels in her mind spinning. From her expression, she knows precisely what room I’m talking about. “Please stay with me.”

  With steady eye contact, her pupils grow dark. “Right now I’m a pretty terrible sleeper. You might want to rethink the proposition you just offered.”

  “This isn’t a business proposal,” I say as calmly as I can. “This is about us. Our relationship. And the status of your current sleeping habits won’t impact my decision one bit. Truth is, I don’t want to spend another night without having you tucked safely in my arms. Please stop worrying about where this is headed and just let me take care of you. If you’re feeling even a fraction of what I’m feeling, then you know this is right.”

  She inhales a long breath, shifting from side to side. She doesn’t seem ready. I’m not sure what to say or do. If I can’t keep her safe beside me, at least I’ll know she’s here at the house. I could sleep upstairs in one of the bedrooms, but I can’t stand being even an inch away from her.

  I palm her shoulders and gently squeeze. “If you’re not ready for this, you can have the master bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch. Tomorrow, I’ll dismantle the den and turn it back into a bedroom.”

  Soft hands glide up my arms as Addison lifts her gaze to mine. “I’d like that, but for another reason.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you have the house for a while, maybe we could set it up for the baby.”

  Adrenaline rushes through my body as my heart rate reaches its limit. I sift my fingers through her soft brown hair and pull her in against me. “I can make that happen.”

  For you, I can make anything happen.

  It’s been nine weeks since I returned to Willow Run. Thirty-five weeks since I took Addison as if she were my own. And twenty-eight years to find the woman I love.

  Heading into December, we’re up to weekly doctor appointments for the last few weeks of her pregnancy. I have the nursery set to bring our baby home. Thankfully, the extra fluids Addison’s carrying in her legs haven’t gotten too much worse. But then she’s been a good girl, taking the SUV instead of walking about all over town. The weather’s turned crappy, which helps keep her feet off the sidewalk. Not that a blanket of fresh snow would stop Addison from doing anything she plans.

  She always seems to have so much to do, especially at work. I don’t know how she does it. She never complains. On more than one occasion I’ve contemplated the need to get her in a room with my agent. He’s an overachiever in the Department of Non-Stop Complaining. Right now, he just wants more of the money I used to get for him. I should cut him loose because even though I’ve still got a hauler’s arm, I no longer have a pitcher’s head.

  Throwing in my hat, I shoot off the email I should have already sent. Baseball is no longer in my future. I’ve got bigger things in my life to look forward to. I’m content and know exactly where my life is heading. I’ve even gotten a better handle on a few of the locals. Together, Addison and I helped serve food at the community lunch function on Thanksgiving. And finished off the month of thankfulness with our own turkey dinner at home.

  As I knew would happen, Mrs. Tinley entertained us with more of her two-hundred-proof cider. Addison took one whiff and winked; the sight all out made my pants stiff, even with Mrs. Tinley at the table beside us.

  I downed a shot, silently toasting Mrs. Tinley for being the one who’d lifted Addison’s battery from her SUV. I swear I didn’t put her up to it. She did it all on her own. Gave up her sneaky trick the very next morning as we were heading out in my truck to grab some of Addison’s things from her apartment.

  I’d no more backed out of the driveway when Mrs. Tinley peeked out from behind the sheer covering the front picture window of her home. To my surprise, she tossed me a wicked smile, then raised Addison’s battery up over her shoulder, just like I would do after pitching for the win during the seventh game of the World Series and had the coveted Commissioner’s Trophy in my hands.

  Shocked yet appreciative of my nosy neighbor’s actions, I gave her a nod, shifted into drive, and stifled a fit of laughter. Beside me, with her sight locked in the opposite direction on the cloudy sky, Addison sat oblivious to what had just transpired. Though I have to admit, the timing of Mrs. Tinley’s curveball was pretty impeccable.

  And by then, I had my girl exactly where she belonged. And where Addison belongs is with me, wrapped up in both of my arms. I told her it must have been fate when she asked how the battery miraculously plopped back into place by the very next morning.

  She shook her head and moved on. I could tell she wasn’t buying it, but somehow knew in her heart I had nothing whatsoever to do with what went down that night. And since moving in with me, she’s not given off an ounce of evidence suggesting she’s unhappy being back at the house.

  Having never seen her happier, I unearth the manila envelope I’ve been staring at on and off for weeks now, and head on out to the post office. The drive is short. As usual, I grow warm inside the instant the sight of the town square comes into view. I can’t help but think back to last September. The day I found Addison scanning box after box of Mrs. Tinley’s egg noodles. It was also the day I learned I was going to be a father.

  I grin, feeling it spread through my beard, and marvel at how the square’s been decorated for Christmas. The stores on Main Street coordinated their efforts with matching red and white lights, including a range of pine-scented welcome wreaths on each of the doors, enticing shoppers to stop and enjoy the décor that makes this time of the year look so magical. I admit I tried to get Addison to take a pass on decorating day. Thankfully she didn’t listen to reason.

  “But I’ve always helped decorate,” she said, her beautiful blue eyes pleading for me to fire up the snow blower and clear the half foot of snow that had covered the driveway overnight. I stood my ground until she mentioned hopping on one of her friends’ snowmobiles and heading on in anyway. That’s all I needed to worry about. Addison and our baby on a snowmobile. Not happening.

  I loaded her and the belly that’s housing our baby into the passenger’s seat of my truck. Thankfully I did. I’d never had so much fun stringing lights, wrapping lighted garland around the rails of the bandstand, and dancing with my girl. The glint of love shining in her eyes as I moved her around the Christmas tree in the middle of the bandstand is yet another
thing I’ve put up high on my list of forever memories.

  And although I enjoyed my share of Rusty’s black cherry hot chocolate, which gave off a hint of bourbon flavor he refused to admit he’d slipped in as an extra ingredient, I didn’t so much appreciate the way his eyes took in Addison. But then some strawberry blonde bounced up the steps, took him in her claws, and kissed him like she didn’t think she’d see him tomorrow. He kissed her back, despite the fact that the mistletoe had yet to be hung. That’s when I realized the chick in his arms was Rachel Rollins, Addison’s best friend.

  Addy’s not caught on to the way Rusty looks at her. I suspect it’s because she’s always focused on what she’s doing.

  After I returned my sight to Addison, she tossed me a wink. It liquefied my insides and made me extra weak at the knees. At six-foot-four, I might have been the tallest guy there. Even so, after seeing her, and despite the fact I had my right foot planted on the first rung of the ladder, I handed over the kissing ball and let the next tallest guy nail it up on the ceiling.

  Thinking about our day at the bandstand makes my heart hammer, and does so each time I drive around the square. Whether I’m delivering flowers to Addison at work, taking her to lunch in the middle of her day, or popping in at the hair salon to catch up on the local gossip and sit for a trim, my constant smile follows me everywhere.

  Rolling to a stop at the post office, I shift into PARK and cut the engine. Once inside, I slide the envelope across the counter to the attendant on duty. After paying for next-day delivery to the law firm I’m shipping it to, I leave with the receipt clutched tightly in my hand.

  But time is ticking. And I know it. There’s only a little over three weeks left until Christmas. It also means the birth of our baby is just around the corner. And in less than twenty-four hours the most important paperwork I’ve completed since dropping my sloppy signature down on my first MLB contract will, for the last time, hit its final destination.