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

by Jami Davenport

“Holy shit, man. How many kids do you have?” asked Rex.

  Juan grinned. “Only four.”

  “That’s it? Get to work on that,” Manny teased.

  “Sí,” Juan said very seriously.

  Everyone laughed at Juan’s confused expression.

  “You’ve turned into quite the family man, Z. What the fuck happened?” Sully had joined the conversation. His chin jutted out belligerently. He perched his hands on his hips. His glare hid something deeper. Instead of dismissing the guy as a jerk, Zeke could see his pain. He wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Was he so arrogant and self-absorbed that he’d believed he was the only guy scarred by tragedy?

  He didn’t react to Sully’s taunting, merely smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I have. Love will do that to you.”

  The guys snorted and slapped him on the back.

  “Translated to mean Z’s whipped,” Sully said, the only teammate not smiling.

  “I like being whipped. You should try it sometime. It hurts so good.”

  More laughter and backslapping. Not getting the reaction he’d wanted, Sully frowned and stalked away.

  Zeke swept his gaze around the circle of teammates he barely knew and wondered for the first time what demons hid under their smiles and what pain lurked under their masculine bravado. He’d never cared before. Now he did. No one should go through their own personal hell alone. Everyone needed someone, just like he’d needed his brothers before they let him down, his sister who died an unnecessary death just to prove a point, and Paisley.

  Yeah, he didn’t just want Paisley, though thinking of her made him hard in seconds. Hearing her voice lifted him from the deepest, darkest hole. At some point in time, she’d become not just his lover, but his best friend.

  His calls to her became a nightly occurrence. They talked about his game and the kids and the remodel and anything else they could think of.

  He glanced again at Sully brooding in the corner, alone and separate from the group of guys joking and sharing pictures of kids.

  Zeke didn’t want to be the guy on the outside ever again. He liked it better in the light. He liked it better with Paisley by his side and even more with three little kids brightening his days. Despite suffering from their own secret traumas, they bravely battled on.

  But he couldn’t keep them. Any of them. Not even Paisley.

  They weren’t his to keep, and he couldn’t make them his.

  Chapter 18—Sacrifice Fly

  Paisley’s pretend family sat down at the dinner table to a home-cooked meal of spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad. She’d simmered the sauce on the stove all day just like her grandmother had taught her to do. The heavenly smell of tomatoes, garlic, and spices spread through the old house until even the workers couldn’t resist peeking into the kitchen on occasion. Paisley promised them a spaghetti lunch tomorrow.

  Zeke had gotten home early this morning from the road trip, and he had a rare day off before another grueling home stand.

  Three little kids slurped at spaghetti, winding it around their forks and laughing when sauce splattered on their noses and cheeks. Brayden had so much of it on his T-shirt, he looked like he’d rolled in it.

  “Mr. Zeke,” Brayden asked, putting down his fork and wiping off his face somewhat. A thrill of pride slid through Paisley. She’d been working on the kids’ manners and was finally getting somewhere.

  “Yes?” Zeke waited patiently for Brayden to finish chewing.

  “Can we move upstairs when you marry Auntie Paze?”

  Shock paralyzed Zeke’s handsome features, but he recovered quickly. “You don’t like your apartment?”

  “I like it up here better.” Brayden met Zeke’s gaze. “With you.”

  Zeke’s brow furrowed. He scratched his head, as if stalling for time. His gaze finally met Paisley’s. She squirmed and hid her embarrassment behind a glass of red wine she lifted to her lips.

  Brayden watched Zeke with the look of a boy completely in awe. “Can we?”

  Zeke sat back in his chair. “Your aunt and I need to talk about that.”

  “Can we, please? Auntie Paze, can we? Can we? Can we? Can we?” Sophie chanted as she jumped up and down in her chair.

  “Stop it,” Sadie said to her sister. “When you make people mad, they go away or make us go away.”

  Sophie scowled at her sister but complied, concentrating on wrapping a wad of spaghetti around her fork. Her lower lip quivered as if she were going to cry.

  “I made Mommy mad, and she went away,” Sadie almost whispered.

  Paisley exchanged an alarmed glance with Zeke. “Honey, your mommy didn’t go away because of you. There were other things going on that you’re too young to understand.”

  “But she’s never coming back.” Sadie sniffed and rubbed her face with a spaghetti-covered hand.

  “No, she’s not, but that’s not because she doesn’t love you. She’s watching you right now, wishing she were here.”

  Sadie quivered all over. She fisted her fork in her hand and looked on the verge of a breakdown. Paisley didn’t have a clue what to do. In a panic, she turned to Zeke, just like a mother might when she needs the father to help her out of a difficult situation.

  Zeke stood and knelt beside Sadie’s chair. The other two children watched him with wide eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Sadie, sometimes the people we love the most go away, not because they want to but because they are called to heaven to fill a spot only they can fill. So Paisley filled a spot, too. She took over for your mom.”

  “Are you going to take over for our dad?”

  Paisley held her breath waiting for Zeke to answer that one.

  He recovered quickly. “Your dad is still around. He’s just busy right now.”

  “I’d rather have you,” Sophie chimed in.

  “Me, too,” said the other two in unison.

  Zeke looked down for a moment and swallowed. He wiped his face with a napkin before looking up again. “I’m flattered.” He shot them his award-winning smile, squeezed both girls’ shoulders and tousled Brayden’s hair.

  The kids waited for more words than that, but they didn’t get the reassurances they wanted and Paisley hoped for. Zeke had drawn a line in the sand he wouldn’t cross. Every time he approached that line, he regressed to the man she’d first met, full of false charm and fake confidence.

  The kids saw right through him, but they held up bravely. Not falling for his act, they concentrated on their meal. Except Sadie. She moved the noodles around on her plate and avoided looking at Zeke.

  Zeke frowned, as if he didn’t understand what had upset them. Paisley wanted to grab him by those oh-so-broad shoulders and shake some sense into his thick, oh-so-male skull.

  She’d fallen for a man who wasn’t emotionally available, not for the kids, and certainly not for her.

  Paisley sure knew how to pick ’em.

  * * * *

  The kids were upset with Zeke, and it bothered him. When he’d offered to take them for ice cream, they shook their collective heads, begging off with various excuses, such as needing to color in a new coloring book or brush their teeth.

  Since when had he been a lower priority than teeth brushing?

  Guilt clawed at his insides, exposing an even less-desirable emotion: regret. He hated feeling like this. Life had been so much easier when he’d avoided close associations with other people and their baggage. Back then he’d played the nice guy on the surface and thrown some money at a problem, patting himself on the back for being a good citizen.

  But this emotional shit was a helluva lot more complicated. He’d wrapped his heart in Kevlar and stayed safe. Not giving a shit had worked for him, but now he’d done it. He’d traveled too far out of his comfort zone and some bastard had blown up the road behind him until there was no turning back to the lonely but risk-free life he used to live. The guilty bastard who’d done the deed had been himself, and now he couldn’t stay away, no matter how hard he tried.

 
A half hour after the kids’ bedtime, Zeke rapped on the sliding glass door to Paisley’s bedroom. He didn’t wait for an answer, pretty certain she’d left it unlocked for him. She had.

  Instead of being naked, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at a perfectly normal, dull wall with more interest than if it’d been a priceless, rare painting. In fact, she gave it more attention than she currently displayed toward him. This wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. Especially after the send-off she’d given him a week ago.

  She didn’t turn when he entered the room, didn’t flash her cock-hardening, melt-the-hardest heart smile. He hesitated, waiting near the door.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. She was mad at him. No doubt about that. Deep down inside, he’d expected no less from her. This relationship stuff was complicated shit.

  He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. She slipped away from his touch as if it were distasteful and stood next to the bedroom door, her arms crossed over her chest.

  Zeke backed up a step, stinging from the rejection. His entire adult life he’d avoided rejection by getting out of a relationship before it turned sour or by distancing himself from a teammate who ventured too close to figuring what made him tick. No one knew him, not Fernando, not his brothers, and not Paisley.

  Anger pushed to the surface, fueling his indignation. She had no right to be pissed at him. He never misled her or promised more than he wanted to give. He’d been up-front and honest about their situation. He should’ve known better. Be nice to a woman, and she’ll think you’re in love.

  Zeke didn’t know how to love, and Paisley needed to figure that out. He was fond of her. He wanted her around. He liked hanging with her, even with the kids. Why couldn’t that be enough? He should send her on her way with a big wad of money and extract himself from an increasingly messy situation. Heartbreak was inevitable for her, but not for him, because his heart wasn’t involved. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to break it off.

  He ran through his options, but instead of insisting she stay within the relationship boundaries as he’d drawn them, the next words he uttered encouraged her to color outside the lines.

  “Hey, moving upstairs isn’t a bad idea. I do like my bed better.” He should’ve regretted his hasty decision, but he didn’t. He wanted them upstairs in the main house, even if it meant those damn kittens would come, too.

  She turned to him, her eyes full of expectation. Guilt punched him in the gut. His conscience, which had been more talkative lately than Sophie, berated him for giving her false hope.

  “Really?” Paisley closed the space between them and slid her hands up his arms, resting them on his chest. He swallowed and looked down at her. Every argument and warning he’d prepared for a moment like this dissolved into thin air. He had no words, even though he should be telling her he wasn’t a long-term guy. He wasn’t good for her or the kids. He wasn’t the guy they thought he was.

  He was broken, and he would hurt all of them. Still, he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t save her or himself.

  Zeke pulled her into his arms, lacing his fingers together behind her back. He needed to feel her. She grounded him, made colors so much brighter, and challenged him to feel instead of be. She looked at him like he was her world, like he could light up the darkest night and slay every dragon fool enough to venture into their kingdom.

  He wasn’t that guy, but in that moment, he wanted to be.

  His ability to think rationally melted as quickly as an ice cube on a Vegas sidewalk in summer.

  “The kittens, too?” She leaned into him, rubbing up against him.

  “You’re not playing fair,” he growled.

  “No, I’m not.” She slid her hands under his T-shirt. Her soft palms brushed over his abs and upward. Her fingers teased his nipples. He groaned, sat down hard on the bed before his knees gave out, and pulled her onto his lap.

  His mouth sought hers and connected, blasting away at his misgivings until they were dust in the wind and forgotten. She drew back, holding his cheeks in her hands.

  “The kittens?” she said again.

  “Yeah, the kittens. Whatever you want.” He couldn’t recall the question exactly, but he didn’t give a shit. Her fine ass pressed against his dick, rendering his brain functions useless. He unbuttoned her blouse with unusually awkward fingers, which wouldn’t stop shaking for some reason.

  She wrenched emotions from him with the expertise of a goddess who’d been schooled in the sexual arts for centuries. His sex goddess. No one else’s.

  “We’ll need to fix up some of the bedrooms for them. I know Sadie has her eye on the one with the bay window. The upstairs renovations are almost complete.” She licked up his neck. He couldn’t make out her words over the roaring in his ears.

  “Paze. Anything.”

  “I’ll have the workers concentrate on two of the bedrooms this week.” Paisley’s hands settled on his fly, and she unbuckled his belt. Thank God his heart and lungs did their job without any help from the rest of his body, or he’d be dead right now. The only other part of him capable of functioning was his dick. She was talking about construction when all he wanted to do was bury himself in her and feel her wet, welcoming heat sheathing his cock.

  “Spend whatever it takes.” He couldn’t believe he’d managed to piece together a sentence.

  He pushed her blouse off her shoulders and down her arms; next came the bra. He wasn’t satisfied until they were on the floor. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue until she whimpered and begged for him.

  She stood and pulled off her jeans and underwear while he did the same. He threw her on the bed like a caveman claiming his mate, spread her legs wide, and entered her in one hard, deep thrust. She arched her back and cried out. Her fingernails dug into his back, while her soul burrowed into his heart.

  He lunged into her with urgent thrusts, his body saying things he’d never say with words. In fact, he’d deny them. A primal need to possess her, own her, brand her forever as his overwhelmed him. He pounded into her as she met every fierce thrust with a fierceness of her own.

  He wasn’t just possessing her; she was possessing him. The heat of her possession seared his flesh and burned her name permanently onto his heart and his soul. Her eyes held his, and he knew in that second that she owned him, not just his body, but everything he was or ever would be.

  Fear stronger than his desire slammed into him.

  He couldn’t allow it.

  He needed to demonstrate that he was in control. This was his show, not hers. He pulled out of her, despite her protests, and flipped her onto her stomach. Holding her waist in a tight grip, as she stood on all fours, he buried himself in her again. He took her hard and dirty, like an animal devoid of centuries of civilization.

  She raised her head and cried out as her orgasm began to overtake her. Hearing his name on her lips as she was about to come was just about the sexiest thing he could ever imagine.

  Her muscles squeezed his cock, enticing him to come with her. His balls tightened, his cock jerked, his body gathered for one final thrust as he buried himself so deep he’d never find his way back to sanity. He came in a rush of emotion so strong he swore he’d breathed his last shuddering breath, because nothing could ever compare to being inside this woman.

  He collapsed against her, his sweat-soaked chest on her back and his face buried in her hair.

  He’d wanted to show her who was in control, but she’d shown him.

  Even more puzzling, he wasn’t sure he gave a shit.

  Chapter 19—Strike One

  The next several days zipped by for Paisley.

  Zeke had a nine-day home stand with one day off in the middle. The kids were out of school and underfoot 24-7. Paisley was buried up to her eyeballs readying two upstairs bedrooms. First, it’d take the good part of a month to modernize the rooms with their connecting bathroom. Second, Paisley and the kids attended all of Zeke’s
home games, sitting where they’d be seen, as decreed by Mr. Decker. Paisley didn’t protest too much, nor did the kids, now outfitted in Skookums baseball jerseys with Zeke’s number. Paisley’s own wardrobe increased by one of each type of jersey worn by the Skookums.

  She would’ve attended the games even if Al hadn’t insisted, but she played along, letting Zeke believe they were only there because they had to be. They’d grown closer, even though something inside him fought the closeness.

  Paisley loved watching his games. She’d been damn good in her high school softball days, even playing in the state championships her senior year and being scouted by a few local colleges. None of them had been willing to give her a full ride, and she couldn’t afford the rest of the expenses. Her dream of going to college and playing softball died before it ever started.

  Now she lived through Zeke on a whole different level. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the attention. She did. People treated her with more respect, sucked up to her, and asked her opinions. She liked being someone instead of no one, even if being someone had everything to do with Zeke and nothing to do with her.

  Zeke was having a great home stand. He’d hit in all but one of the five games played so far. Today’s game, which was on a Sunday afternoon, would be followed by a day off. She’d been looking forward to his day off all week. Even though she spent her nights with Zeke, she didn’t see him much during game days. He preferred to be at the ballpark before noon to get in his zone and warm up.

  Paisley couldn’t put a finger on when her pretending to be Zeke’s fiancée transformed into being Zeke’s fiancée. She embraced her fabricated reality as well as any Emmy-winning actor, most likely because she wasn’t playing a part, she was living it. In her mind, she was a loving fiancée who adored her man. Zeke either didn’t notice or didn’t mind that she continued playing her part when they were in the privacy of their home.

  Their home.

  Paisley had put her blood, sweat, and tears into that big old house. She’d worked her ass off to ensure the old mansion was restored with respect to its historical significance. And they had the money to do it. Or Zeke did, but she had the wherewithal to fulfill his vague dreams for the place.