There were programs to help struggling families, but registering for a program would alert the child welfare authorities. They might go after the father for child support. She couldn’t chance him finding out where she lived.
“I don’t want to move. I like it here.” Brayden stuck out his lower lip and glowered at her as if this were her fault.
“Neither do I,” Sophie wailed. “I don’t want to move. I want to stay here. I do. I do. I do.” Sophie was working herself into an imminent temper tantrum and full-blown meltdown.
“We aren’t going to move. We’re staying right here, but the kittens have to be kept away from Mr. Zeke.” She knelt next to Sophie and dabbed at her tears. “Understand? Can you do that?”
Sophie sniffled and nodded. “I guess.”
“We can,” Sadie said with absolute seriousness.
Brayden nodded vigorously. “Mr. Zeke will never know they’re here.”
“Good, now back to bed.” She shooed them off to bed, plagued with guilt at deceiving Zeke while teaching the children in her care it was okay to be deceptive to get what you wanted. That wasn’t exactly the type of lesson she wanted them to learn.
Then again, desperate times called for less-than-honest measures.
She sank down onto the cushions of the old, worn couch and lay back, closing her eyes. She’d planned a completely different evening, but she was grateful Zeke had revealed his true colors before she waded any deeper into their fake engagement and before the kids had discovered one more example of how dishonest their beloved aunt could be.
If this was such a good thing, why did she feel like shit?
She longed for Zeke’s hands on her skin and the touch of his lips on hers. She wanted to feel him inside her again, propelling her to heights she’d never imagined.
She couldn’t think like that. They were through before they’d ever really started. From this second forward, she was his employee and that was all, and not the type of employee who slept with her employer. She would set a good example for the kids and do the right thing for herself.
It was about time.
* * * *
Things were better this way. The last thing Zeke needed was to get attached, real or not, to a cute little pixie with three rambunctious kids. Make that two precocious kids and one very sad, very quiet child. Sadie could break him, and he couldn’t allow that.
Zeke didn’t do emotions. With one exception, he’d done a good job suppressing them his entire life. First, from a father who considered one tear a sign of extreme weakness to be countered with extreme punishment, and later from a world that saw him as someone he wasn’t.
Since he’d been young, Zeke had carefully fabricated a family where his single father toiled to build a good home for his motherless children and set good example after good example for his boys, making them into fine young men.
White-hot anger surged through him at the injustice of it all. He suppressed the rage as he always did, wondering when that pressure cooker would explode and damage the innocent people in its path.
Paisley and the kids were better off out of his life.
Throwing on a pair of swim trunks, Zeke sank into the warm water of the deck hot tub.
A huge bruise throbbed on his left arm where an errant fastball had hit him. It hurt like a motherfucker.
His muscles ached. His head ached. Fuck, his heart ached.
He shut his eyes and leaned back against the head cushion, wishing he could shut off his brain, only his brain wasn’t cooperating.
He’d been playing well enough. Skookums ownership shouldn’t be too dismayed when he informed them—through Al—of his breakup. He’d hated that particular fabrication. Lying about his family was one thing, but lying about a woman who’d been special to him was downright dangerous.
She didn’t care for him anyway. What woman would choose two renegade kittens over a man who could buy her anything her heart desired?
A woman who isn’t motivated by money.
He scowled at the voice inside his head. He didn’t need a lecture, least of all by his own head.
A drop of rain hit his face and slid down his cheek as the skies grew dark and blocked out the few stars that’d managed to break through them.
Seattle.
He couldn’t decide if he loved it here or hated it. He sure as hell hated things about the place, but he loved the mountains and the inlets and lakes. He didn’t even mind the rain, even though he bitched about it just like a native of the city.
“Mr. Zeke?”
Oh, shit.
Zeke opened his eyes to see Sadie’s little face peering over the side of the hot tub. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?” Her sweet face was all screwed up with concern he didn’t deserve.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
She watched him for a long minute. He was the first to look away.
“You and Auntie Paze were yelling.” She gripped the side of the hot tub.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“I don’t like yelling. My Mommy and Daddy yelled a lot. Mommy would get hurt.”
He was pretty certain she wasn’t referring to her mother being emotionally damaged, though that was probably also the case. “I would never hurt any of you.”
“I know, but it’s hard.” The trust in her eyes blew him away. “Good night. Don’t be sad.” She sprinted back to the basement apartment and disappeared inside.
Zeke’s gut twisted into a pretzel, and he blew out a breath. Looking down, he realized his hands were shaking. He got out of the tub, bone-dead tired and drained of all emotion, and toweled off in the master bathroom. After tossing the towel on the floor, he moved to the bedroom. He crawled between the cool sheets and closed his eyes.
Zeke didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he awoke with a start and bolted upright in bed. A cold sweat covered his skin and had left the sheets wet and clammy. His hands shook. His heart pounded. His breathing equaled a marathon runners at the end of a long race.
He hadn’t had one of these nightmares in a few years. He’d thought the thousands of sessions with a counselor had gotten rid of them. He should’ve known better. There wasn’t any counseling on earth that could rid him of his past, only teach him to cope and hopefully live with it.
Surely it was pure coincidence that the night of his fight with Paisley and a short conversation with Sadie was the night he had that nightmare.
Unable to bear sleeping with the lights off, he turned on the nightstand light and lay back down, scooting to a part of the bed that wasn’t wet from his sweat.
He allowed his mind to drift to a mental picture of Paisley sleeping two floors below him. In his fantasy, she was naked with her blond hair spread around her, tickling her nipples and teasing him to wrap the silky strands around his fingers.
Grateful for the distraction, he slid his hand downward and grasped the base of his cock. Having fantasy sex with Paisley chased away the nightmares, at least temporarily.
When he was spent, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 15—Good Hit
Zeke’s week at home didn’t go as planned.
He’d planned on spending most of it in bed with Paisley while the kids were at school. So much for plans. Those damn kittens with their affinity for baseballs and toilet paper had screwed up everything. No matter, the furry hellions were gone now, a victory he didn’t celebrate. Paisley had barely spoken two words to him all week, and the kids avoided him, though Sadie observed him with all-knowing eyes as if she felt sorry for him. No one should feel sorry for him. He had it all. Money. Good looks. Fame.
He should be grateful for his privacy, but instead he felt a big hole inside as if they’d once filled it, which had to be lack of sex and his imagination. No one burrowed that deep.
But as much as he denied it—
He missed her. He even missed the kids.
This was crazy. He didn’t need anyone. Why woul
d he need them?
It was already Monday, his day off, and tomorrow he’d be on another road trip. He took his usual run and went to work out, choosing to avoid Paisley rather than face her like a man.
When his cell rang, he noted Al’s name on the screen and answered it with a sense of dread. A midseason call from his agent wasn’t usually good news.
“Hey, what’s up?” He faked cheerfulness better than anyone, having had years of practice, but Al always saw right through him. This time he didn’t recommend more counseling, children’s hospital visitations, or stints on Good Morning America to raise his profile. Al got right to the point.
“Decker wants to meet with you in his office at noon. I’ll pick you up.”
“I have plans.”
“Bullshit. Cancel them.”
“I can’t,” Zeke lied, knowing Al would cut through his feeble lie.
“I’ll pick you up at eleven fifteen. That’s in twenty minutes.”
“Why are you in this town so much? I never saw you when I was in California,” Zeke groused.
“Because, my dear Mr. Wolfe, all of my hottest clients seem to play for this town. Did you know I’d picked up your two brothers?”
“Oh, shit.” Zeke didn’t like that one bit. He opened his mouth to fire the bastard, then snapped it shut. Al was the best in the business, as ruthless as they came. His brothers signing with Al drove home that point. He didn’t hang out with Al’s other clients, and he didn’t need to hang out with his brothers just because Al signed them.
“I don’t want to meet with Decker.” Zeke was whining, and he hated himself for it.
“Eleven fifteen. Be ready.” Al disconnected the call. Zeke considered calling back, but Al wouldn’t answer. Then he considered making himself scarce, but that wouldn’t work, either. Al and his many minions would hunt Zeke down. Zeke knew he was on shaky ground with the new ownership. Despite his good play as of late, he still wasn’t up to the level of a guy making his kind of money.
Zeke turned the car back toward home, showered, and changed into jeans and a Skookums polo. He stepped on the deck, hoping Paisley might be outside. She loved to garden and was whipping his overgrown yard into shape. She wasn’t there. He sighed. The good news was, neither were the cats. At least, they weren’t in sight.
The workers inside bang-bang-banged on whatever they were building. It was unnerving. He hated the noise, hated the invasion of privacy, and wished he’d bought another starkly modern condo with no personality instead of an old creaky mansion with good bones and bad maintenance.
He heard the honk of Al’s horn, grabbed a hoodie, and ran for the door, grateful to be away from the noise, even if his escape included a meeting with Decker. Al ran his mouth during the entire trip to Skookums headquarters, talking about inconsequential garbage, which could only mean one thing: whatever was going down with Decker wasn’t good.
Due to minimal traffic and an early start, they arrived fifteen minutes early. Much to Zeke’s surprise they were ushered into Decker’s plush office without delay by a prune-faced receptionist. No one could accuse Decker of hiring females based on their age and looks.
Decker looked up and grinned, a rare occurrence, which made Zeke even more nervous. He waved them to chairs around the small round mahogany table and joined them, pouring each a cup of coffee.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
Zeke said nothing, and neither did Al.
“As you know, I’m majority owner of this team, but you probably don’t realize my parents own a portion also. My mother is very big on family values and setting a good example for the youth of America.”
Zeke wanted to ask what happened to Decker but bit his tongue. He followed Al’s lead and nodded as if mesmerized.
“We’re working to change this city’s perception of the Skookums. For years, they’ve been the dumping ground for every degenerate or washed-up player in the league.” He gave Zeke a pointed look, and Zeke forced himself not to cringe. He plastered a smile on his face as if to say, you can’t be speaking of me.
“The Skookums are benefiting greatly from your leadership and vision,” Al noted, making Zeke want to gag at the blatant brown nosing.
“The Skookums are establishing a working relationship with the Steelheads football team and the Sockeyes hockey team. In the past, those relationships were marred by fights, name-calling, and competitive backbiting. We are not competing against the other teams in this city. One successful team elevates the bar and raises the other teams. It’s a collaboration, not a fight to the death for dominance.”
Predicting what might be coming next, Zeke rubbed his stomach under the table in an attempt to quell its rebellion. He could only imagine what form this collaboration might take and was certain those forms would manifest into pure torture for him.
“Part of our master plan involves you being the new face of the franchise. We’re going to build our brand around you, Fernando, Edwin, and Manny. The Skookums will stand for clean living, family, and kindness. You already have that reputation.
“I’m honored,” Zeke said, glancing at Al and sensing immediately there was more to this. A lot more, judging by Al’s inability to look him in the eye. Instead, the rat bastard smiled and nodded at Decker as if he were the second coming. Zeke could only speculate what being the face of the franchise had to do with fostering camaraderie with the other Seattle teams.
“Good. Good. I was hoping you’d be on board.” Decker smiled, and the trap began to close. “I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t believe them.”
“What kinds of rumors?” Zeke hated himself for asking.
“Issues between you and your brothers.”
Zeke swallowed and cast himself in the part he’d played so well for so long. “You’ve seen them at my games.” Not a lie, but not exactly 100 percent honest, either.
“Good to hear. Al tells me you’ll be a groomsman at your oldest brother’s wedding in a few weeks.”
Zeke’s brain stalled at “groomsman” and “brother’s wedding.” Decker’s mouth was moving but the words weren’t making sense over the explosion in his head.
“All three teams will be represented at this event. It’ll be plastered all over local media and our launch of the One Big Seattle Family charity campaign, chaired by my mother.”
“Your mother?” Zeke choked on the words, trying to follow the conversation.
“Oh, yes, she’s a Seattle institution. She’ll be working with Mrs. Reynolds, the matriarch of the Steelheads ownership, and Mrs. Parker, her counterpart with the Sockeyes. Even I don’t dare cross those three.” He leaned forward as if imparting some state secret to them. “They are formidable women. They get what they want. They want you and your two brothers to be the cornerstones of this campaign. Isaac and Tanner have already agreed.”
Zeke was certain he was going to be sick, but somehow he held it together. He’d been expecting something like this ever since being traded to Seattle. Here it was in all its painful, insane glory. Once again, life and God had conspired to kick his ass and leave him writhing on the ground in agony.
He doubted this could get any worse, until Decker drew a deep breath, and Zeke knew he’d underestimated Al and Decker. This shit was about to get real. He could tell by the twin looks of innocence on their faces. Zeke lifted the coffee cup to his lips to conceal his expression of horror.
“You’ll be attending the ceremonies with your fiancée, of course, and her three beautiful children,” Decker added. It wasn’t a question; it was an order.
Zeke almost spit out his coffee.
“Is there a problem with that?” Decker asked.
“No, not at all.” Al rushed to answer while kicking Zeke under the table.
“Good.” Decker cast a quick glance at Al and then back to Zeke. “I’ve also talked to the PR department. We want to film you out and about in Seattle. I’ve assigned a photographer to document what you do in your spare time. A trip to the zoo with the
kids would be an excellent place to start. I’ll schedule it for your next day off. My mother will love it. She’s on the board at the zoo.”
“Zoo?” Zeke had never been to a zoo in his life. That was something you did as a kid, and he’d never had the opportunity to go to a zoo, an amusement park, or even to a park for a picnic. That’s how screwed up his life was.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, if not beforehand.” Decker rose to his feet.
Zeke nodded and stood, ready to bolt for freedom. He shook Decker’s hand and shot out the door, not waiting for Al. His agent caught up with him at the elevator. Zeke debated strangling the man or throwing him off the Space Needle.
Neither spoke until they were in Al’s car.
“Look, Z, I tried to talk him out of it. Really, I did. But I couldn’t protest too much without blowing your cover.”
“My brothers agreed to this? Isaac hates the media. I can’t imagine he wants them at his wedding.”
“You haven’t met Mrs. Parker. He caved in under three seconds.”
Zeke laughed, and laughing felt good. He sobered quickly. “Believe it or not, I have a bigger problem. The fake engagement is off. Paisley dumped me.”
Al snorted, and Zeke shot him a death glare of his own.
“Be your charming self and win her back. Fuck, pay the woman if you have to. She appears to need the money.”
“She’d never do this for money,” he insisted, even though he wasn’t so sure.
“You’d better hope she can be bought. Her attendance is as mandatory as yours. What’d you do to piss her off?”
“The kids have two feline hellions, and I told her she had twenty-four hours to get rid of them.” Among other things, but Al didn’t need the details.
Bottom of the Ninth: Seattle Skookums Baseball (Game On in Seattle Book 6) Page 17
