Catching Caden (The Perfect Game Series)

by Samantha Christy

  I can’t argue with that logic. But still. He needs to quit doing stuff like that for me.

  Me: The menu will be chicken piccata with risotto and asparagus. If that’s not good enough for you, I guess I’ll be eating for four.

  #8: Chicken piccata sounds great, Murphy Brown. What time should we be there?

  After we finish our conversation, I get up to put my new stuff away when I glance at the TV programs that Trick is channel-surfing through. Something flashing across the screen catches my eye. “Wait, can you go back a channel, please?”

  She clicks back one. “You like this show?” Then she rolls her eyes at her question. “Of course you do. Duh. Were you named after it? Was Murphy Brown your mom’s favorite show or something?”

  I laugh. “No. I never even heard of the show until Caden started calling me by that name. Mind if I watch it for a minute?”

  She pats the couch next to her. “Take a load off. I’ll watch it with you. I love old sitcoms.”

  A half hour later, I sit staring at the TV, stunned. Because, as fate would have it—or maybe just coincidence—Murphy Brown was sometimes called ‘Slugger.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Caden

  Ethan pushes an envelope across the table. “Here you go,” he says. “Start from the top.”

  I open it, removing the contents. On top of the pile, there are a few pictures of my dad. Recent ones that I assume Ethan had someone on his team take. He looks just like he did last Friday when I ran into him outside Murphy’s building.

  Next, I see a picture of him in a copy of a newspaper article that looks very old. I check the date. It’s almost as old as I am. The article is about him being arrested. He had stolen a car. And according to the article, it wasn’t the first time. They got him for multiple counts of grand larceny.

  I knew it.

  Another old picture is his prison photo. He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit and holding a number in front of him.

  That’s my father. Prisoner #004583757 in the Georgia State Penitentiary. There’s a picture for the family album.

  I shake my head. “Shit, Ethan.”

  I stare at the picture. Georgia. No wonder I didn’t find anything on him. All my on-line searches were centered around Baltimore, where Lexi and I grew up.

  “Keep looking,” he says.

  Next, I find a diploma issued from a community college associated with the prison. He earned an associate’s degree in social work while he was doing time.

  Beneath that is an article from an Atlanta newspaper dated fifteen years ago. It shows a picture of my father surrounded by what looks to be an unruly bunch. When I read the article, it talks about how Shane Kessler, social worker and former inmate, now spends his time helping other recently-released inmates stay off drugs and find meaningful employment.

  The next paper I come across is a bachelor’s degree he earned from Georgia Southern University and the next, a doctorate in social work from the University of Georgia.

  What the hell? I look up at Ethan. “My dad’s a fucking doctor?”

  “Of social work. Yes,” he says with a smile. “I don’t think he’s after your money, Caden. Not that social workers make a lot of money, but he runs his own outreach program in Atlanta. Gets government funding and everything. Good program. I’ve donated to similar ones in the past. He spends his days rehabilitating criminals. I’m pretty sure that means he’s not trying to scam you.”

  “Wait,” I say, leafing through the papers. “You’re telling me my deadbeat dad, the drug-addict scumbag who took off and left Lex and me, this guy is now some sort of scholar who runs his own business?”

  I must look damn surprised because Ethan laughs at me. “And wins awards for it,” he says, pointing to another article showing pictures of my dad accepting accolades from the mayor of Atlanta.

  “Why the hell did he wait so long to look for us?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s moving here. Maybe he just wants to know his kids again.”

  “It’s too late. I don’t want to know him. Too much water under the bridge.”

  “Don’t say that, Caden. Charlie thought the same thing about her dad when we first got together. Turned out it was a huge misunderstanding. They have a great relationship now.”

  “You think my dad walking out on his wife and leaving his six-month-old son and three-year-old daughter was a misunderstanding?” I bite at him.

  “Everyone has shit in their past. He was clearly an addict. Addiction does terrible things to good people. He’s obviously turned his life around. Maybe you should hear him out.”

  I stuff the contents back into the folder. “Thanks, Ethan. I’ll think about it.”

  “Glad to help.” He looks at his watch. “I’m heading out for the day. Want to grab a beer?”

  “Can’t. I’m heading over to a friend’s house for a double date.”

  “Look me up next week then,” he says, walking me out.

  “Sure thing.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Kate and I arrive at Murphy’s place fifteen minutes earlier than I told Brady to show up. I didn’t want him getting here before me and hitting on her. Even though I was quite clear about this being strictly platonic, I don’t doubt he’d try to see if he could push the boundaries. I mean, it’s Murphy. She’s gorgeous.

  Murphy opens the door and incredible smells assault us from inside. I’ve never had chicken piccata before, and I wasn’t about to tell her I didn’t know what the hell it was. But whatever it is, it smells heavenly.

  “Kate, this is my friend, Murphy.”

  Murphy smiles at Kate, offering her hand. “Hi, Kate. Come on in.” She looks beyond us into the hallway. “Brady’s not with you?”

  I’m not sure if she looks disappointed or relieved.

  “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” I tell her. “We came separately.”

  She shrugs. “Oh, okay.”

  “Where should I put these?” I show her the two bottles of wine I brought.

  She takes one from me, examining the label before she scolds me with her eyes. Yes, I spent a lot on the wine. It was the least I could do.

  “Thanks,” she says, more for Kate’s benefit than mine. “You can put them on the kitchen counter. Go ahead and open one if you want.”

  “Do we need to pass the bottle, or does Trick own wine glasses?” I ask.

  Murphy’s laugh is a soft melodic giggle that resonates somewhere deep inside me. She has a great laugh.

  “We’ve got glasses,” she says. “They might not all match, but we have plenty of them.”

  “It smells great in here,” Kate says, taking a deep whiff of the aromas. “Can I help you with anything, Murphy?”

  “No, but thanks for asking. Dinner is being kept warm in the oven and I’ve just finished with the canapés.”

  “Cana-whats?” Kate asks.

  “Canapés,” Murphy says. “They’re appetizers. Finger foods to tide us over until dinner.”

  “Oh. Sounds great,” Kate says.

  “Go ahead and have a seat,” Murphy tells her. “I’ll go get them and Caden can open the wine.”

  I follow Murphy into the kitchen. “Before I forget, I hope you’re free tomorrow, because a bunch of us are going to Mason’s game.”

  “A bunch?”

  “Lexi and Kyle, Chad and Mallory, and Piper will be there, obviously.”

  She thinks about it and nods. “Yeah. Sounds fun.” She touches the scar under her eye. “And not as dangerous as baseball.”

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about giving you another lesson,” I say. “I’m going to make you a baseball lover yet.”

  She laughs, stretching her head around the corner to peek at my date in the living room. “Kate seems nice,” she whispers to me.

  “I guess,” I say.

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “She’s my batting coach’s niece.”

  “That’s nice. Did he set you t
wo up?”

  I shrug. “She’s been out with a few of my teammates before.”

  Murphy pins me to the wall with her stare. “Caden,” she says in a stern whisper. “If she’s just going through your team trying to get any baseball player, you should run far and fast.”

  I put a hand on her arm. “It’s not like that, Murph. She’s not a Tony. In fact, the other guys didn’t take her out a second time because she wouldn’t sleep with them. I think she’s more like the girl next door than the girl who wants to trap a ball player.”

  She blows out a relieved sigh. “Good. Uh, she didn’t go out with Brady, did she? Because that would be more than a little awkward.”

  “No, she didn’t go out with Brady.”

  There’s a knock on the door.

  I laugh. “Speak of the devil.”

  “Can you get it?” she asks, picking up a tray of little bread things. “I’ll bring these.”

  I introduce Kate and Murphy to Brady.

  “It’s a real pleasure,” Brady says, holding Murphy’s hand far too long. I don’t miss how he appraises her like a piece of meat.

  I call him over to help me with the wine glasses. “Dude, I told you, do not try and hook up with her. Don’t even try to kiss her.”

  He looks around at nobody and then back at me. “What the hell did I do?”

  “Are you kidding?” I ask. “You were eye-fucking her just now.”

  He laughs. “Kessler, I eye-fuck everyone. Don’t you know that by now?”

  I stare him down. “Don’t do it to her.”

  He backs up and studies me. “Maybe we should swap dates then.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Taylor.”

  “Just sayin’,” he says. “You seem way more into her than the one you’re with. Mind if I eye-fuck your date then? She’s hot too. What did you say her name was again? I was too busy picturing Murphy squirming under me.”

  If I didn’t know he was kidding—well, half kidding—I’d run his ass right out of Murphy’s apartment. “Just be cool, Brady.”

  “I’m always cool, Kessler.”

  I shove two glasses of wine into his hands thinking this could be a very long night.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Murphy

  Sitting in a suite watching the Giants game is a lot like sitting in a suite watching a Nighthawks game. But without the stress of seeing Caden play.

  I’ve never been much into sports. Growing up in Okoboji, Iowa didn’t lend itself to it. We had one hundred and fifty students in my entire high school—not much to pick from if you wanted an award-winning football or baseball team.

  Still, I find sports are kind of growing on me. Maybe it’s from working at the gym and seeing all the sports stars come and go. I glance over at Caden, who’s deep in conversation with Kyle and Chad as they discuss Mason’s last play.

  “Which one are you ogling?” Lexi whispers, coming up beside me to catch me staring.

  I snap my eyes to hers. “I wasn’t ogling,” I pout.

  “It’s okay to ogle, you know. They’re all hot, if I do say so myself.”

  I glance back at the three men. She’s right. The amount of testosterone and unbridled attractiveness there could bring any woman to her knees. Mallory’s husband, Chad, laughs loudly and I turn back to Lexi. “You could have warned me that your brother-in-law is a Hollywood A-lister.”

  “A little star-struck, are we?”

  I shrug. “Maybe just a little. I mean, he’s been in like ten movies, Lexi. Good movies. Movies you stand in line for on opening night. Isn’t that unreal? And here he is just laughing and watching football with the rest of us like a regular guy.”

  She studies me, shaking her head. “Says the BFF of one of the hottest sports stars in New York.”

  “That’s different,” I say. “And we’re not BFFs.”

  “That’s up for debate,” she says. “But either way, do you go around introducing yourself as ‘the best friend of Caden Kessler of the Nighthawks’?”

  I cringe. “Of course not.”

  “Then why would I introduce myself as the sister-in-law of the famous Thad Stone?”

  I nod. “Touché. But I think it was the name that threw me. I’d heard Mallory talk about her husband, Chad, before. I guess I didn’t realize he was the same guy.”

  “Are you two talking about my husband?” Mallory asks, joining us at the bar.

  “I think Murphy was a bit star-struck to find out who Chad is.”

  “You wouldn’t feel that way if you had to use the bathroom after him every morning.” She waves a hand under her nose, making us laugh with her.

  We’re watching the guys interact with each other when a woman comes up to them, asking not Chad, but Caden, for an autograph.

  “See?” Mallory says. “I love it when that happens. The girl didn’t even notice Chad. Keeps his ego in check.”

  I can’t tear my eyes away from Caden and his fan. Kyle takes a few pictures of them with the woman’s phone. Then she hugs Caden and he hugs her back. It reminds me of last night, watching Caden with Kate. They didn’t touch much, maybe a hand on an arm or an elbow to the ribs. But the fact that I noticed every little touch was surprising. And the fact that it bothered me was bothersome.

  Brady was quite the gentleman for the most part—when he wasn’t staring at my chest that is. He earned more than a few kicks under the table from Caden when he was caught doing it. It was almost comical how Caden was trying to protect me from the man-whore of the western world. He must have felt bad knowing he assured me our date was platonic. I guess he thought it was his duty to uphold the ‘platonic-ness’ of it.

  Caden glances over and winks at me. Then something happens. Heat creeps up my face and my heart stops beating for just a fraction of a second. That’s all it took really, just a fraction of a second to realize that what I’m feeling for him is not what one friend feels for another.

  It was an innocent gesture on his part. I’m sure he winks at everyone. The fan who is now sitting back with her friends on the other side of the suite—did he wink at her? I think back to last night and try to remember if he winked at Kate. Surely, he must have.

  A glass is shoved into my hands. Lexi laughs and says, “Looks like you need this more than I do.”

  I take a drink of her beer and then turn around and focus all my energy on the game.

  I concentrate on the game so my mind can’t fester over the fact that my pulse races every time I’m near him. Or the fact that when he left another hat at my place last night, I secretly wondered if he did it on purpose as I added it to my growing collection. Or the fact that seeing him with another woman last night made me jealous.

  Or the fact that I’ve fallen for my best friend.

  No. This can’t be happening. I down the rest of Lexi’s drink and go to the bar in search of another.

  Hands come up and touch my shoulders, causing shivers to travel down my spine. “Having fun?” Caden asks, in a deep masculine voice that twists my insides into knots.

  My eyes close and I’m glad my back is turned to him so he can’t see the visceral reaction my body is having to his words. His touch.

  I stiffen and try to compose myself. “I am,” I say. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  He starts to massage my shoulders. “You’re so tense, Murph. Everything okay?”

  I take my beer from the bartender and turn around, shrugging his hands off my shoulders in the process. If he only knew what his touch was doing to me, he wouldn’t have put his hands on me. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

  “Tired? We left your place before eleven.”

  “I stayed up too late watching TV,” I confess.

  “Me too.” He laughs quietly. “They had a late-night Murphy Brown marathon.”

  My face heats up. I’m not sure why knowing he was watching the same show embarrasses me, but it does.

  “What?” He sees my reaction. “No way. Really?”

  I shrug. “Had to see wh
at all the fuss was about. I mean, it is your favorite show and all.”

  “I haven’t watched it in years,” he says. “But, yeah, it might just be my favorite show.” He winks at me.

  “Why were you watching TV?” I ask. “Didn’t you and Kate … um, didn’t you go out for a drink or … something?”

  Oh, God. Could I be any more awkward?

  Caden laughs. “No, we didn’t go out for a drink or … something.”

  I try not to smile too broadly at his admission. I try not to think about how I watched TV last night to get my mind off what he and Kate were most likely doing after they left my apartment. And now, knowing he took her straight home—it feels better than the day I got that modeling contract.

  We walk over and sit down to watch the second half of the game.

  “Speaking of baseball,” Caden says.

  I look at him and roll my eyes. “We weren’t speaking of baseball.”

  “Yeah, but now we are,” he says, elbowing me in the ribs. “When is your next day off?”

  “Not until next Sunday,” I say. “I picked up some extra hours this week to cover for someone.”

  Caden looks disappointed. “You work six days in a row?”

  “Yes. But they aren’t all full days. I only work until noon on Thursday.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at the gym at noon on Thursday.”

  I look at him sideways. “Are you going to tell me why?”

  “For your next lesson.”

  I laugh. “I’ve seen you play plenty of times, Caden. I believe I’ve gotten the gist of it by now.”

  “But you only went to two games. And the first one doesn’t count since you didn’t even watch it.” He cringes and I know he’s thinking about his ball hitting me. Then he stares me down, a slow smile dancing up his face. “You watched my games on TV, didn’t you, Murphy Brown?”

  “I may have caught a few on ESPN,” I admit, more heat creeping up my face.

  He slaps his knee in excitement. “I knew it! Come on, fess up, it’s a great game, isn’t it?”