“Hey, Aaron, how’s it going?” Emery greeted him.
At least he was somewhat polite. His parents had evidently taught him some manners, though a bit more discipline when he was younger might have gone a long way toward curbing his antics. He’d only been here for about a day, and he was already staying out all night—drinking, from the looks of him. Emery plopped down in the chair next to him at the table. And the smell of him. Time would tell whether it was the start of a bad habit, or just an understandable one-time celebration of his new circumstances.
“Hi, Emery. Pretty good.” He added more oil to his rag then began spreading it on the glove he was conditioning. “Have fun last night?” Inwardly he winced at hearing his father’s disapproving and sarcastic voice coming out of his mouth.
Thankfully, his tone went right over Emery’s bed-head. “Oh yeah. There are some guys I know from college ball, so they showed me around. Met a chick. You know…” Emery shrugged and slouched back into the chair.
Aaron did know, though he’d usually avoided the bleacher babes that buzzed around ballplayers. He gave one head tilt in response, barely keeping from rolling his eyes. He was less than ten years older than Emery, but he felt ancient next to his youthful obliviousness.
“Oh!” Emery sat up straight. “Crap. What time is it? I’d better get cleaned up.”
Aaron frowned. “It’s around noon. What’s up?”
Emery stood, a slow, genuine grin softening his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but my number one fan is driving down today and I told her she could stay here while she’s in town.”
Jesus. The kid had a girlfriend coming to stay and he’d just gotten back from getting laid last night?
Emery’s smile slowly dropped when Aaron didn’t respond right away. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“No, man. Whatever. Mi casa es su casa.” He nodded at Emery, hiding his disgust. He never could understand cheaters. Why commit to someone then fuck around? He nodded to Emery’s less than stellar appearance. “You might want to clean up, though.”
“Yeah, good idea. She’d freak if she saw me like this at this time of day.” Instead of going to his still unpacked room, though, Emery first headed to the kitchen.
Aaron was still shaking his head when a knock came at the door. Well, more of a pounding, really, that had him jumping up to answer just to get it to stop.
Jesus. That better not be the cops or an angry husband or something.
Teri’s hands and arms were full of the reusable grocery bags she’d hauled up to Emery’s new apartment. Unable to knock, she kicked the door three times hard. No answer. And she’d just talked to him ten minutes ago. “C’mon, Em,” she muttered, pulling her foot back for another ‘knock’.
Instead of resistance, her foot met air as the door opened. Thrown off balance, she took a desperate step forward, trying to regain her balance.
“Whoa.”
She was caught firmly by the elbow and steadied by a large, strong grip.
“You must be ‘the number one fan’,” the unfamiliar voice added with a touch of sarcasm.
You must be Aaron, the apparently grumpy roommate.
Finally stable, she looked up, expecting to see a young man around her sons’ age.
Boy, was she wrong. In a good way.
Suddenly hyperaware of the hand still grasping her arm, she fought for composure. Her over-stimulated primary erogenous zone—her brain—was having a field day as the man in front of her tripped every trigger she possessed at once.
Tall, muscular and athletic? Check.
Tawny, sun-kissed skin and blond hair? Uh-huh.
Deep celadon green eyes with little laugh lines at the edges? Nice touch.
She inhaled deeply. Gads, he even smelled heavenly. Male, spicy and a little bit like…glove oil?
Rowr.
The squint lines were promising. Maybe—hopefully—he wasn’t nearly as young as she’d expected. Or maybe they were just from playing ball in the sun for so many years and she was a total perv. She glanced down at the elbow he still held.
“Oh, damn, sorry about that.” He removed the oily rag he was holding in the hand supporting her, swiping at her skin ineffectually with his thumb. At least, it was ineffective at removing the grease. It was proving pretty effective at something else though…
Her eyes narrowed as something about his face gave her a prod of recognition.
Aaron? Hmm…
Trying to place him, and realizing she hadn’t yet said a word, she finally responded, “No problem.” She was proud of how normal her voice sounded.
Get a grip, Sandusky. You sooo need a man if you’re lusting after your son’s roommate.
Gratefully seizing upon the grounding effect of the thought of her son, she continued, “You must be Aaron. Is Emery here?”
“Yes.” He backed in a bit reluctantly. “C’mon in, he just rolled in. I’ll try to catch him before he gets in the shower.”
Teri frowned, distracted from her hormonal mental wanderings. “Just rolled in? You mean, from being out last night?” Oh, great.
Aaron shifted, looking uncomfortable, but before he could answer, Em strolled into the living room. “Ma, hey!”
“Ma?” Aaron echoed incredulously, going still.
Emery crossed the room in a couple of big strides and gave her a hug. Whoa. Almost overcome with the stench as his unbound hair fell against her face, she reared back, pushing him away and gaping at him.
“Emery! Have you been smoking?” She took another careful sniff, and the sharp tang of alcohol was unmistakable. She’d unfortunately learned over the years that his body chemistry processed alcohol in a very recognizable manner through his pores. Her heart clenched. “You reek of alcohol,” she stated flatly, staring him down.
“What?” Em shot back, but had the grace to flush as he tried to take a sniff of himself, evidently so used to it he couldn’t smell it anymore. “It was just a little getting to know the team thing last night.” He fiddled with the belt loops of his jeans as he avoided eye contact.
Disappointment clamored and Teri tried to swallow it down. Only one day, and he was already partying. With one last look at her son’s averted face, she turned toward the kitchen. “Go take a shower. We’ll talk when you get out.” She was already dreading the conversation, one she could predict almost down to the exact words. The excuses, the defensiveness, the promises.
Damn it, Em. When are you going to grow up?
She’d had reservations about his quitting college to take this shot at pro ball, but he’d vowed to take it seriously. Pressing her lips together to try to keep from swearing out loud—or, worse, tearing up—she entered the small kitchen, set down the bags then began to put away the perishables she’d impulsively bought for Em at the natural foods store she’d spotted on the way into town. His favorite yoghurt, orange-peach-mango juice, hummus and red peppers—the only raw vegetable she didn’t have to fight to make him eat. The contents of the fridge surprised her a bit—she’d expected to see only beer, pop and ketchup. Instead, she had to work to make room for the peppers in the crisper drawer amongst an assortment of other veggies.
She sensed movement behind her as she finished, and straightened to find Aaron putting away the non-perishables from one of the other sacks in the small pantry. He turned away quickly as she stood, gaze sliding away from the vicinity of her backside. She raised a mental eyebrow. He was checking out her ass? She snorted. Now there was something that didn’t happen every day. If she’d known, she might’ve put on some makeup and worn something besides loose yoga pants and a T-shirt. But comfort was way more important to her than trying to compete with the pretty, young things who could always be found hanging around the teams. Especially while traveling.
Teri had become comfortable in her own skin in the past decade, when she’d finally accepted that as long as she was fit and felt good, it wasn’t necessary to be a stick. Oh, she wasn’t fat. But like most women who’d had kids, h
er hips hadn’t ever quite snapped back to where they were beforehand. And on the dark side of forty, she was starting to notice a certain propensity to softness, even with a religious workout schedule.
They finished setting things away in silence, then were left with nothing to keep them from awkwardly waiting for Emery to reappear. Trying not to stress about the coming talk with her son, Teri peeked at Aaron, after folding up her reusable bags to take home, and found him observing her intently.
“Sorry for the not-so-friendly greeting. You’re not quite who I expected to find at the door,” he finally volunteered.
Teri relaxed a bit as she smiled. “Now, you know I have to ask who you did expect.”
Aaron grinned back, and something about him again struck her as familiar.
“Well, when Emery said his ‘number one fan’ was coming to spend the night, I thought he meant…” He trailed off, embarrassed, then gestured with a grimace. “You know, not a mom.”
“Hmm. Guess I don’t want to go there.” She studied him, but his identity still didn’t come to her. It was driving her crazy. “Aaron…Aaron…” she finally murmured aloud. “You look really familiar, but I just can’t place you.”
His smile dropped as if a curtain had fallen. He shrugged as a cloud passed over his eyes, negating the pleasant banter. It was such an abrupt change that Teri immediately regretted her nosy angling for information.
Without thought, she crossed to him and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Aaron took a deep breath and Teri felt his corded forearm flex under her touch. “No, I’m sorry. I overreacted. You’re probably just thrown off by my name. They usually call me Hank.” He met her eyes as they widened.
Teri straightened abruptly. Of course! Now everything snapped into place. ‘Hank’ Aaron Reynolds. Huge story after the live broadcast of his season—and possibly career—ending crash into the boards. Her eyes went straight to his right arm, knowing the reason he was on the Disabled List was the need for a long rehab of the shoulder of his throwing arm. The beautiful, ornate tattoo of a Celtic cross should have been a dead giveaway, except—her gaze shot in disbelief up to his spiky blond hair—he had cut his trademark shoulder-length hair. No wonder I didn’t know him. It was—had been—his most recognizable feature.
And what was he even doing here? Teri battled to keep her pity and confusion from showing on her face. Playing in the minors? A member of last year’s All-Star team?
Catching herself kneading his muscular forearm, she snatched her hand away and took several steps back—running into her son, who smelled of soap and shampoo, a vast improvement, and whom she hadn’t even heard enter the room.
“You’re Hank Reynolds?” Em had evidently drawn the same conclusions as she had about his new roommate. True to form, he then blurted out the biggest of the string of questions burning in her own mind, going on in a disbelieving tone, “Why’re you going by Aaron? And what the fuck are you doing in the minors?”
Chapter Two
Aaron grimaced at the identical expressions of awe and shock from the matching amber eyes of mother and son.
You knew this was going to happen when you took this gig. It’ll be a hundred times worse when the press finds out you’re here.
He ran his hand over his hair in what was becoming a habitual manner, still unused to the short, close cut after over a decade of shoulder-length or longer. It had been an impulsive, symbolic gesture at the time of his surgery, to rid himself of the trademark hair while unable to play ball. But Aaron hadn’t realized at the time just how anonymous it would make him. He’d gone from unable to leave his house without being recognized, to having fellow players and big fans have no idea who he was. While he didn’t regret cutting it off exactly, he wondered if he’d ever regain his identity. And whether it even mattered to anyone besides himself.
Teri recovered first of the three of them. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet you…Aaron.” There was a very slight inflection trailing at the end, as if she was questioning the right name to use.
“Yeah. It’s pretty much just the media and other ballplayers that call me Hank. And I’m not playing. I’m just here helping out Coach McCauley while I rehab.” He shrugged, wincing as the automatic gesture pulled at his slow-healing surgical wound. “Better than just sitting around. And we’re not sure how long this will take. It was a complicated injury.”
That was an understatement. A chronic rotator cuff problem had plagued him since high school, when he’d been a pitcher, but he’d been able to put off surgery and nurse it along. Then a bad crash into the left field wall during the playoffs last fall had dislocated his shoulder and torn up some tendons to boot. All on his throwing side. And a left-fielder needed to be one-hundred percent with his gun.
The media hadn’t yet got wind of the prevailing opinion among his rehab team that he might not get enough range of motion back to be able to play at his former level, if at all. So while he was officially still on his team’s sixty-day-plus disabled list, he was fighting a losing battle coming into the start of the season, not yet ready to resume his position, but definitely not ready to give up on the only thing he’d ever wanted to do with his life—play ball.
Aaron clenched his jaw as he led the Sanduskys into the living room. He was only twenty-eight, damn it. He should’ve had another decade. And he would.
Mind firmly made up on that count, his eyes were drawn to Teri, curling up like a cat in the corner of the couch. When he’d opened the door, expecting to see some over-the-top baseball groupie, he’d been caught off guard by Teri’s wholesome, unembellished beauty. A quick, hot flash of unexpected jealousy had spiked through him at the thought of her being here for Em and not him.
Aaron rolled his eyes. He should’ve known who she was right away by her coloring—a petite, feminine version of his new responsibility, with the same rich, dark hair and whiskey eyes. But no way did she look old enough to have a full-grown son. She was short—probably a foot shorter than his six-two—and fit, with a youthful, positive energy that radiated from her. With her hair pulled back into a long ponytail and no makeup to cover the smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and nose, she could walk around on a college campus without a second glance. He wouldn’t be surprised if she still got carded for alcohol. Aaron frowned a bit as he wondered just how young she’d been when she’d had Emery.
Teri was currently directing a look at Emery that Aaron remembered being on the receiving end of a few times with his own parents, and he decided to make himself scarce for the coming clash.
“Sorry to bail, but I need to get my run in.” Aaron turned to Teri and a conspiratorial shine in her eye told him she knew why he was heading out. Sharp lady. The more he saw of her, the more he liked.
He hurried to his bedroom and washed up, then laced his running shoes. He hadn’t really planned on a run today, but he’d at least jog for a while and give the duo some privacy. Maybe he’d go down to the park and run by the river.
Aaron walked back out into the living room and Teri smiled at him when he appeared. There was just something about her…
He cleared his throat. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Thanks, Aaron. Have a good run.” The sound of his real name on her lips continued to whisper in his head long after his departure.
As soon as the door closed behind Aaron, Teri turned to study Em. He stared back at her, his expression growing more defensive by the second.
Trying to keep things non-confrontational, she nonetheless opened with what was foremost in her mind. “You’ve only been here for one night—”
“Ma, I really don’t need a lecture. So I went out with the guys. They were just welcoming me to the team.”
“Until noon?” she asked wryly.
Emery had the grace to flush. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, really not wanting to hear anything about some groupie, or worse, a lie.
�
�Okay. Em, you’re an adult. I don’t have to agree with everything you do, any more than you have to answer to me for anything. Just…try to focus on what you came here for. All right? That’s all I ask.” She scooted closer to him on the couch and patted his jittering knee. “So, evidently you had no idea that Aaron was Hank Reynolds?”
As she’d intended, Emery relaxed and exclaimed, “I know! Oh my God. That’s just crazy. I don’t get it. And wow. I’m staying in Hank Reynolds’ condo!” He dropped back against the cushion dramatically. “Though, I don’t get why he has a condo here. But still.” Emery sat back up with his typical energy and nearly bounced. “Hank Reynolds is my roommate. Whoa.”
“Yeah. So you behave and be an extra-specially good roomie. Got it?” she ordered.
He nodded agreeably. “Got it. So how’s Alex?”
She smiled at how eager Emery seemed to keep the subject off his behavior, and let it go for now. “He’s good. Cross country just wrapped up with their last meet yesterday.” Which was why she hadn’t been able to come with Emery when he’d driven up with his belongings the day before, but Emery knew that. “He placed fifth, so a good showing. Busy with school and work, of course, with tax season.” Alex had interned at a well-known accounting firm for the past year and now had a part-time, seasonal job as a tax preparer for them.
Emery rolled his eyes. “Boring. Dude needs to get a life.”
That wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but Teri would rather eat liver than admit it. Not for the first time, she wished she could give Em a bit of Alex’s responsible nature, and Alex some of Emery’s outgoing joie de vivre.
“He’s happy. That’s all I want for either of you.”
Emery snorted. “He’s not happy. He just has no social skills, so he hunkers down in his own little world.”
“Em.” Teri shook her head, refusing to get baited by her son’s familiar taunting of his twin. “So what’s the plan for today? We should probably get you unpacked.” If he’d been out all night, she was sure he hadn’t bothered to do any himself. She frowned. “The boxes aren’t still out in the truck, are they?”
Spring Training Page 2