18. Daddy Wilson

I sent the ball soaring just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Resting my nine iron against my leg, I pulled out my phone.

Baby Girl: Are you signing Storms?

Me: Yeah, hoping to sign him when he graduates in May. I’d do it now, but he’s set on the degree.

I’d gotten home from the successful Pennsylvania recruiting run a couple of hours ago. As much as I wanted to see Wren right away, she was heading out to the WAG event tonight, so I’d let Leo convince me to grab a couple of drinks with him and Heath at Top Golf.

Baby Girl: The really important question is, how does his ass look in baseball pants?

I shook my head. The woman was going to make my brain explode. The thought of her staring at my players’ asses made me want to kill them all.

Me: Do NOT check out my guys’ asses, baby girl.

Baby Girl: Where is the fun in that?

Baby Girl: Don’t worry, Daddy Wilson. You still dominate the best ass category. When you wear the pinstripes, I’m in heaven.

Me: Sounds like the Revs will be wearing a lot of pinstripes this season.

Baby Girl: Lucky me.

I smirked. Pulling back a bit seemed to be working, because she was now flirting with me. Something I didn’t mind one bit.

Me: Anything to make you happy.

“Is Tom Wilson smiling?” Leo tipped his beer my way.

Smirk slipping, I tucked the phone back into my pocket.

“This chick must really be something.” He glanced up at the screen above us where our scores were listed. “It’s not often you duck a shot and then smile about it.”

Frowning, I surveyed the screen. Fuck, I didn’t realize how badly I’d hooked that one.

With a shrug, I slipped my club back into the rack. Then I skirted around Leo’s stool to pick up my beer from the high-top where the guys sat. The nice thing about Top Golf was we had our own climate-controlled box so we could drive balls without our fingers getting frost bitten during Boston winters.

“Is this the girl from New York?” Leo asked.

I nodded carefully as I set my phone on the table. If I got what I wanted, then eventually Heath would realize Wren and the woman from New York were one and the same, which meant everything I said in these moments was incredibly important.

“Your turn, dumbass.” I waved Leo to the driving box, hoping to end the conversation .

He stood up. “Just ’cause I’m walking away doesn’t mean this conversation is done.”

Chuckling, Heath rested his arms on the table. “He’s never going to let it go. But you really do seem happy, man.”

My chest tightened at his comment. This was my chance to say some things he’d remember later.

“I am. I can’t tell you how special this woman is. She’s incredibly smart and talented. It makes my day to hear from her, even when she’s giving me shit.” I took a breath and shook my head. “I honestly didn’t know I could feel this way.”

“When did you meet her?” Heath lifted his beer to his lips.

I did the same, using the moment to search for the right words. I swallowed and set the beer back down. “I’ve known her for a long time, but I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realized she was worth the risk and the effort.”

My phone buzzed and the notification for a text from Baby Girl appeared.

“Baby girl.” With a slight head shake and a smirk, Heath clasped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Already at the nickname stage.” He chuckled. “I’m happy for you.”

I shut my eyes, not so sure he’d be happy when he realized the woman I was falling for was his daughter. “I’m just hoping it will work out.”

“You’re up, Heath.” Leo dropped into the stool next to me and pulled his drink across the table.

With a dip of his chin, Heath stepped toward the tee box to take his shot.

“Tell me it’s not Wren,” Leo hissed when he was out of earshot.

“What?” I froze, my mind and heart seizing. I was at a fucking loss for how to respond. How the hell had he even guessed?

“You’ve had a thing for her for at least two years,” he gritted out. “You don’t hide that shit from me very well. I’ve caught you staring way too many times. So again, tell me you are not dating our best friend’s daughter behind his back.”

I swallowed down the guilt that rose up my throat. Technically, we weren’t dating. But I didn’t think making that distinction was the way to go here. Honestly, it would probably sound worse. Like I’d fucked her in New York and now she wanted to be flirty friends. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Motherfucker.” He shook his head and sank against the back of his stool. “You better know what you’re doing. I’m going to miss your ass when you’re buried under a par 5 at his country club.”

“I have a plan,” I mumbled.

The first half consisted of getting Wren to actually date me. From there, I could move on to telling people. So we had time. Hopefully.