Bottom of the Ninth: Seattle Skookums Baseball (Game On in Seattle Book 6)

by Jami Davenport

  She sat back with a glass of milk and smiled as she watched for glimpses of the man who was her employer, nothing more. But appreciating the finest-looking man she’d ever had personal contact with wasn’t a crime. She looked but wouldn’t touch. Her interest was completely innocent. Any female with a pulse would do the same.

  The game ended with a loss, and Zeke hadn’t played the greatest. In fact, he had an error, overthrowing home plate and allowing the winning run in the ninth. His batting had been less than stellar also. He struck out twice and grounded out once.

  She prowled the sports channels, hoping for another glimpse of Zeke, which was crazy. She should be getting some much-needed sleep. She had a strenuous day of unpacking ahead, along with searching for furniture to fill this massive house.

  Only, she didn’t go downstairs. She hung out upstairs, cleaning the already-immaculate kitchen and unpacking a few more boxes, while telling herself her reluctance to go to bed had nothing to do with Zeke.

  His postgame interview was painful to watch. He looked away from the cameras and answered the questions put to him in a monotone voice and with a strained smile. His answers were standard issue. She could’ve heard the same ones uttered by a dozen other baseball players on any given night. Despite his lack of emotion, she could tell by the way he gripped his glove and set his jaw he was hurting.

  She’d Googled him earlier, and he’d had a bad season last year, batting only .250. His fielding had been subpar, especially considering he’d had a Gold Glove rookie year. Seattle management received mounds of criticism for paying him the money they’d agreed to pay him, while sources said his former team was laughing all the way to the bank.

  Paisley felt a connection to Zeke, recognizing a fellow wounded soul when she met one. Still, he’d been good to her and the kids even if it hadn’t been his idea to hire her.

  Her heart rate spiked when she heard the door from the garage open and the sound of feet clomping on the hardwood floors. She turned just as he stopped at the entrance to the living room.

  “What are you still doing up?” He frowned, obviously annoyed to see her.

  “Just finishing up a few things without having the kids underfoot.”

  He just stared at her and said nothing, his expression as unreadable as it’d been during the interview. Finally, he threw himself onto a recliner and stared at the ceiling.

  “Tough game?”

  “Shitty game. Did you watch?”

  “The last half,” she admitted.

  “Do you know anything about baseball?”

  “I played softball in high school, and I was pretty good at it.”

  He nodded tightly. “Then you know how shitty my game was.”

  She didn’t sugarcoat her words or deny his assessment of his play. “You weren’t alone out there. It appeared the entire team played like crap.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Not that it makes me feel any better.”

  Her naughty side dared her to offer something that would make him feel better, but she bit her tongue. She had enough problems in her life without adding a man to the mix. He had no idea what he was getting into, so she’d best keep him out of it. For now, she was safe from Zeke. Even better, she was safe from Virgil.

  Virgil could get out of jail anytime. If he did, he might fight for custody of the kids. She doubted he’d be awarded custody, but what if he came after them anyway? Surely the man couldn’t find her in a place as unlikely as Seattle.

  “What’s up?” Zeke asked.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “You look like you’ve seen one of the ghosts probably haunting this place.”

  “Oh. It’s nothing.”

  He scowled, not believing her for a minute. “So you think I played a shitty game?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think?”

  “I think if my bat doesn’t get hot soon, I’ll be selling hot dogs in the minor leagues.”

  She laughed at the thought of this proud, handsome man trolling the bleachers for customers to purchase his hot dogs.

  “It’s not that funny.” He smiled.

  “It’s just a game. There are much worse things in life.”

  He nodded gravely, as if he’d seen those worse things, just as she had. “Maybe, but this game is my career.”

  “I’m sure you have plenty of money stockpiled to live quite comfortably if you never played another game.”

  “Probably, but it’s a matter of pride. I don’t want to be washed up at the age of twenty-four.”

  “You won’t be. You’re too determined for that.”

  He leaned forward, intrigued. “How would you know that?”

  “Informed guess based on what I know about you.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up in a boyish smile, but he caught her off guard and shifted the focus. “How’s the boy?”

  “He’s fine, and his name is Brayden.”

  “Uh, yeah, sorry.” He had the decency to look contrite. “I guess he must’ve had some bad experiences to overreact like that.”

  Paisley ignored his comment. He didn’t need to know any more about them than he already did.

  “Does he like baseball?”

  “He loves baseball.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed, considering how little he thinks of me.”

  “Did you expect to be his idol after you drenched us and pawed at his aunt?”

  Zeke shrugged. “You have a point. How about tickets to a game sometime?”

  “He’d love that.” She tamped down the excitement in her voice.

  “It’s the least I could do. What’s their story? Where are their parents?”

  “My sister is dead, and the father is in jail.”

  “Did he kill her?”

  Paisley’s throat tightened, and she stood quickly. “I’d better be going to bed.”

  She ran from the room before he could ask any more nosy questions. She had no intention of pouring out her life story or the kids’ to a near stranger, despite his moments of kindness and clarity regarding their situation.

  Zeke Wolfe had his own childhood demons despite his bio claiming a model childhood. Guys with model childhoods didn’t jump to the conclusion he had.

  Chapter 6--Walked

  Zeke was MIA the rest of the week, busy with baseball stuff, or so Paisley chose to believe. Other than at breakfast, she didn’t see much of him. The Skookums finished their three-game home stand against Texas by splitting the next two.

  Paisley watched each game with the kids. Zeke hadn’t offered the tickets again, so she didn’t mention the offer to them. Sophie got a kick out of seeing Zeke on TV, while Sadie, as usual, didn’t react, but she watched earnestly. Brayden wasn’t impressed and insisted Zeke sucked.

  He didn’t exactly suck, but he didn’t shine, either. Zeke’s play was average, and she doubted he was a happy camper about it. Mediocre ball and a top-shelf salary didn’t mesh well as far as management would be concerned.

  She did miss him a teensy bit, which was stupid. She barely knew the man. But then, that’d never stopped her before when it came to falling for a guy.

  She’d picked up a few more pieces of furniture during the week and managed to make their basement apartment look a little more like a home. The kids got a kick out of coloring large pictures, which she hung on the bare living room walls.

  Zeke left Friday morning for a weeklong road trip to Oakland and Texas. Paisley promised him a rundown of her ideas for the house when he returned. He’d given her an insincere smile and thanked her, giving her the distinct impression he didn’t care.

  Halfway through the following week, Paisley heard a knock on the door. She frowned, not expecting any workers or deliveries. She didn’t have any friends in Seattle, and Zeke wasn’t due home for a few more days.

  She approached the door cautiously and looked through one of the leaded-glass side windows. She could barely make out two figures on the front porch, one dressed in p
ink. She opened the door a crack, then opened it wider when she saw two women, assuming they would be harmless. What a sexist assumption to make, but she owned it.

  “Can I help you?” she asked in her best lady-of-the-manor imitation, with a gracious smile that would put a Southern belle to shame.

  The two women exchanged glances. Paisley did a double take. They were twins, and drop-dead gorgeous, but in a girl-next-door way and not a glamour queen way.

  “I’m Avery.” She wore an expectant expression, as if she assumed Paisley would know her. She was dressed in faded jeans and a sweatshirt, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore minimal makeup.

  Her name meant nothing to Paisley, so she waited.

  The one in pink stepped forward with a smile as sweet as canned peaches. “I’m Emma. Emma Wolfe.”

  Paisley reeled as if she’d been slapped and backed up a step. Zeke hadn’t uttered one word about his family, though Paisley knew he had two brothers in Seattle. According to the press, the brothers were close, yet she’d seen no signs of them in the short time she’d been in the house. Like most things about Zeke, his family relationships probably weren’t what they seemed.

  “And you are?” Emma, the one in pink, asked.

  “I’m Paisley.”

  “Are you Zeke’s girlfriend?” Avery asked.

  “No, I’m—I’m his personal assistant and housekeeper.”

  “Oh,” they said in unison, clearly disappointed.

  “Are you related to Zeke?”

  “I’m sure he wishes we weren’t, but I’m his oldest brother Isaac’s fiancée, and Emma is married to his middle brother, Tanner. And, yes, we are twins.”

  “Okaaay.” She knew Isaac played for the Sockeyes pro hockey team and Tanner for the Steelheads football team, both based in Seattle. Three brothers playing three pro sports for the same city had made a huge splash in the press when it was first announced.

  “Can we come in?” Avery asked expectantly, clasping and unclasping her hands.

  “Zeke’s never mentioned you, and I’m not sure it’d be a good idea. He’s on a road trip right now. The schedule is online. Why don’t you come back when he’s here?”

  “We don’t want to see him. Not yet. We’d rather talk to you.” Emma graced her with another sweet smile, which might be effective with men, but not so much with Paisley.

  “Me? How did you even know I existed?”

  “Uh, we didn’t,” Avery admitted.

  “We were on a spy mission to find out what we could about Zeke, and we saw you watering the flowers.”

  “I really think you should come back when he’s here.”

  “We’d like to talk to you. How long have you worked for Zeke?”

  “A little over a week.”

  “Oh.” Both their faces fell.

  “So you aren’t really close to him?”

  “No, I’m not. I just met him.”

  The two exchanged glances again, probably doing that weird twin wordless communication thing.

  “We’re sorry to bother you.” Emma shrugged and sighed.

  “Do you want me to tell him you were here? Does he have your numbers?”

  “No and no. We’ll leave it at that.” They turned and sauntered side by side back to a rather large diesel pickup parked in the driveway.

  “Okay, then.” Paisley watched them drive off. Shaking her head, she walked into the house. Something weird was going on. All was not right with the Wolfe boys, aka the Wolfe Pack.

  She’d find out soon enough, because she had no intention of keeping this strange visit a secret.

  * * * *

  Ever since opening night, Zeke had avoided Paisley. A savior in the form a road trip rescued him from her and his own screwed-up emotions. Paisley did weird shit to him, and he didn’t like the longing she brought out in him. Lusting after a woman, he could handle; longing for a woman, not so much. In fact, his muddled reaction to her terrified him.

  Getting his game back required his utmost concentration. He didn’t need a distraction in the form of a cute little thing with three kids and enough baggage to fill a large airplane. There was a story there he’d rather not know. She probably didn’t have legal custody, and any day now child services would be knocking on his door. Or even worse, the FBI.

  Just what he needed.

  Al had checked her out, and the king of ruthlessness was always thorough. He found nothing other than one speeding ticket, a fact that should’ve relaxed him. He was a worrier even though he tried like hell not to be. His tendency to worry was one of the reasons he strived to keep drama from invading his life and taking over his headspace, just as it was starting to do now.

  The Skookums had played their first two road games with Zeke performing decently in both, no errors, three hits, a couple RBIs, and two runs. Not bad for two nights’ work. Not up to All-Star standards, either, but he was getting back on track. Small steps, little triumphs.

  He leaned back on the hotel bed and relaxed a little. He’d get through this slump and be better than ever. Nothing held him down for long. Feeling renewed, or at least faking it well enough, he shut off the lights and pulled up the covers.

  An hour later, he was still wide-awake, his thoughts of baseball crowded out by sexier thoughts of a certain adorable blonde.

  Grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he called the adorable blonde. It was after 9:00 p.m., and the kids would be in bed. Not that their presence should matter. It wasn’t like they were going to have phone sex.

  She answered in a breathy voice. He raked a hand through his hair and reconsidered the phone sex idea. Then again…

  His gut twisted with the suspicion she might have someone over—a male someone. He bit his tongue and refused to ask, but in the end, he couldn’t help himself.

  “Did I interrupt something?” He kept his tone light and teasing, even though his insides had turned a very vivid green.

  “No, I couldn’t find my phone. I’m glad you called.” Her heavy breathing made his dick twitch and harden. He wondered what she was wearing.

  “Oh, you are?” He grinned like an idiot, glad she couldn’t see him. His male ego was still intact.

  “I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on a good game.”

  “You watched?”

  “The kids and I did. They’re becoming quite the baseball fans now that they know someone on the team.”

  Zeke felt a twinge of guilt. He ignored the kids for the most part and rarely spoke to them or even noticed them. “We need all the younger fans we can get.” He hesitated. “How are things there?”

  “Things are good. I took a couple bids today on the roof and some of the updates you mentioned.”

  “Great.”

  She babbled on about the kids’ day at school as if he would be interested. He listened to the cadence of her voice. Her cheerful sweetness came across as genuine and not the least bit artificial. Just talking to her made him feel better. Immensely. He barely knew her, yet he couldn’t shake an odd sensation of having known her forever.

  Or maybe he’d waited for her forever.

  Zeke frowned. He was losing it. He needed to find a willing female for recreational therapy tonight.

  “Did you call for anything in particular?” she asked.

  “Only to make sure everything’s okay.”

  A long, unconformable silence ensued, leaving him gripping his phone and uncertain of what to say next. He didn’t want to disconnect, which was damn stupid.

  “Well, then, we’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Yeah.” The phone went dead.

  Zeke sighed, disturbed by his attraction to Paisley. She was all wrong for him. She needed a man to rescue her, and he wasn’t that man. His ideal woman didn’t have a physical type, but she did have his fantasy family. Everyone got along and loved everybody. Mom made pies, while Dad gave sage advice. No one yelled, got drunk, or struck out in anger. Drama was nonexistent. They’d welcome him as one of their own, and
they’d become the family he craved. If Paisley had that kind of family, she wouldn’t be here, and the kids would be well provided for, not dealing with a dead mother and jailed father.

  His ideal woman’s parents had been in love since they’d met and set excellent examples for their children. Not that Zeke wanted children. Never. Ever. Ever.

  His family dysfunction ran too deep to ever subject a child to that kind of horror. Zeke carried his father’s genes. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t strike out as his father had or turn to alcohol. He’d only lost it once before and put a guy in the hospital, but those genetics ran strong. He couldn’t subject a woman to the man he feared he could be, and he sure as hell wouldn’t subject children to it, either.

  Zeke limited his dating to experienced women, often older women. They kept it simple, no messy emotions, just sex. They enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed their bodies. It was all mutually acceptable. When one of them got tired, they both moved on.

  It’d been enough.

  Restless, he shoved his wallet in his back pocket and headed for the elevator. He considered calling Fernando but talked himself out of it. His buddy was on the mound tomorrow, and he slept ten hours the night before he pitched.

  Stepping out of the elevator and into the lobby, Zeke walked to the hotel bar, glancing around for any of his teammates. No one was in there. A tall, leggy redhead in a dark green business suit sat at the bar. Zeke took a seat beside her and ordered a beer. He rarely drank anything stronger. Whiskey had transformed his father into an abusive bastard, and Zeke wouldn’t feed the possible monster lurking inside his own head. He took great pains to separate himself from his father and brothers, even as memories circled like vultures.

  Back to those damned genetics.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile.

  She glanced at him, taking her time to look him up and down. He waited. She was in her thirties. The shrewd narrowing of her eyes had him wondering if she was an attorney or a banker. Whatever she did, her suit was expensive, her nails perfect, and her makeup flawless. Everything spelled out money and power.

  She was nothing like Paisley. As much as he tried, he couldn’t drum up any interest in the woman as an easy conversation ensued. She was too willing, and there was no sexual tension, no interest on his part. She was in town for business, some kind of a software convention, and she was an account rep. He made the mistake of asking her about what kind of software she represented. Huge, huge mistake. Her green eyes lit up, and she launched into an in-depth description loaded with acronyms and geek terms until keeping up gave him a headache. He stifled a yawn, said good night, and paid the bartender for both drinks.