Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

DANI

I laugh so hard I’m crying. Tyler and Archie are on the Jumbotron playing a game with an oversized pepper mascot while Dad shouts pointers to him. He still can’t stand to lose even years after his military retirement. My heart’s full as I watch my parents and Tyler have such a carefree, fun time. Yeah, the assault sucked, but I’m mostly mad he got the better of me. I guess my dad’s relentless fight to win didn’t fall far from the tree.

I’m having a blast too. The ball game, the food, the people. Today’s absolutely perfect.

“Is it bad if I say thank you for getting assaulted?” Jenny asks. She knocks against me, shoulder to shoulder. “I mean, I hate he hurt you, but thank you for bringing me on this apology tour.”

“You know I couldn’t do this without you, right? Soul sisters.” I hold my hand out with my pinky extended. She hooks her finger with mine .

“Soul sisters,” she repeats. “Hey, where did Casey go?”

“She’s talking to some of the other spouses.” I look behind us and see her with Julian Decker. Whatever they’re talking about appears to be more serious than casual acquaintances. Casey’s talking, and Julian is typing on his phone, practically taking notes. There’s so much of this life I don’t understand.

“I like her,” Jenny says.

“Yeah, me too.” I take a sip of my beer. I rarely drink, but Jenny convinced me having a beer at a baseball game is practically a requirement. This is my second. I don’t remember the words of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” mentioning a cold one, but when in Rome and all. It’s cold and tastes pretty good on this warm evening, so it works.

I focus on the game and watch Matt catch a pop-up foul ball. “Good catch, Matt!” I yell from my seat. Knowing a player makes this game even more enjoyable, even if I just met him.

“He’s playing a good game, isn’t he?” I startle at the deep, baritone voice behind me and jump, sloshing my beer in my lap. “Sorry, hold on. Let me get you some napkins.” I look over my shoulder to see the backside of Alexander Decker go up the four steps and ask the bartender for a towel. I admire the backside, forgetting about my beer-soaked lap.

He rushes back with a clean bar towel in his hand. “Here, I’m sorry.” He starts to blot the spill, notices it’s between my legs, and seems to think better of it. His hand hovers for a second above the scene of the crime. He hands the towel to me with an embarrassed grin. He appears flustered, which I’d bet is an unfamiliar feeling for him.

I take the towel from him, and as our hands brush, I swear I feel a spark. Maybe it’s static electricity or what happens when a hot guy almost pats my crotch, but the tingle practically runs up my arm. I hope I’m not having a heart attack.

I blot at my white shorts, realizing with the wet material, I now have see-through shorts, and my pink strawberry panties are on full display. Jenny looks over, her eyes getting bigger when she sees my dilemma.

“Maybe if you untuck your shirt, it’ll cover it up?” she whispers.

Alexander Decker glances at my crotch, a slight blush filling his cheeks.

“Ms. Franklin, I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough.” He runs his hand down his face in frustration. He types something on his phone and turns his attention back to me, concern filling his face.

“It’s okay, really. It’s my fault. When I’m focused on something, I can really focus. I got jumpy. Please, no apology necessary. They’ll dry.” I stop blotting at the wetness and drape the towel over my lap. I really should pay more attention to my surroundings. With Tyler under the watchful eye of my parents, I allowed myself to relax and let my guard down. Shame on me. You’d think I’d learned my lesson last week.

He points to the seat next to me. “May I?”

“Of course. It’s your suite.” His formality throws me. Ashleigh is polite but not nearly this formal. “You’re so different from Ashleigh. Are you sure you’re related?” I blurt out and slap my hand over my mouth. I probably shouldn’t have drunk that beer because it appears my filter’s loose.

His deep chuckle resonates around me. “Very sure.” He looks at his phone and puts it face down on his muscular thigh. His tailored black dress pants hug his legs, leaving little to my imagination. “In what ways are you referring?”

Ugh. “Well, um, she seems.” I’m struggling because I’ve spent less than five minutes with this man, and I’m already making assessments and assumptions. What if I’m wrong? I struggle to find something to say.

“Hi! I’m Jenny, Dani’s very single best friend. I don’t think we’ve met.” Jenny stretches her hand across my chest, and Alexander reaches to shake her hand. The back of his hand barely brushes my breast, and I gasp. He quickly withdraws his hand, realizing what he touched, adding to his blush.

“Again, I apologize. I didn’t properly introduce myself. I’m Alexander Decker.” He makes eye contact with Jenny, then directs his attention to me. “And I’m usually not this rude. I promise I know more words than I’m sorry.”

Another male laugh breaks into the conversation. Hands grip Alexander’s shoulders and give him a shake. “He knows lots of other words, and if you got an apology out of him, you must be extra special because those are rare words in his vocabulary. I can’t ever get one out of him.”

Alexander glares at his brother. “Because you never deserve them,” he mumbles under his breath.

A bartender appears behind Julian and offers him a tray of beers. “I’m Julian Decker. Alexander’s younger and much more fun brother. We’re glad you lovely ladies could join us today. It’s made the evening much more interesting.” He hands Jenny and me a fresh beer, takes my cup that was a spill hazard, gives one to Alexander, and takes one for himself.

Unlike my half-spilled draft beer, these beers are in bottles, so there’s less chance of another accident. I examine the label and notice it has the Reapers logo, and I hesitate to drink it. I’m not a fan of spice. Julian seems to notice my hesitation. “It’s our own brand. It’s a pale blonde, but you, my lovely, could inspire me to have them come up with a smooth caramel blend.” He gives me a wink and a smile.

“Julian,” Alexander growls. “Enough.”

“Lighten up, Xan. I meant it as the highest compliment. Beautiful women have always been an inspiration. Throughout history, men have fought wars, created art, and launched expeditions for beautiful women. I’m just saying Dani is an inspiration. Don’t you agree?”

Alexander rubs his large hand across his forehead like he’s trying to rub away a headache.

“Are you okay?” I lean over to look up at his face .

“I’m sorry, my brother can be a bit much. Most people can only take him in small doses.” Alexander turns in his seat and gives Julian a look that communicates a message. His response? He laughs.

“Lighten up, Xander. We’re at a baseball game. We’re winning, by the way. The seats are full. The weather’s perfect.” He sweeps his arm around, pointing to everything around us. “The Reapers’ WAGs are having a great time, and we’re in the company of these charming ladies. How can it get any better?”

“You back in New York?” Alexander responds.

We all laugh. This guy’s funny, in an under his breath kind of way. I sip the beer and enjoy the light, cold liquid as it runs down my throat, instantly cooling me off. I like this beer even more than the one I spilled.

The banter between these two is fun, even if it’s a little intense. I want to help Alexander out of this conversation.

“First, please don’t apologize to me anymore. About anything. We’re having a great time.” I look at Jenny and find Tyler and my parents in the crowd. “All of us. So thank you. Thank you for tonight. No apology needed, but certainly accepted.”

I get a small smile from Alexander and a nod of acknowledgment.

“Hey Jenny, want to come with me to see the clubhouse?” Julian’s grin and twinkle in his eye make me uncertain if he’s serious.

“Absolutely!” Jenny hops ups, abandons her beer in the drink holder, and scoots in front of me and Alexander to Julian’s extended hand.

“Do. Not.” Alexander starts.

“You know I gotta, Xan. Matt needs a proper Reaper’s welcome, and Tripp pitched a near-perfect game. I need them to know their agent is proud of them.” His laugh fills the suite as he leads my best friend away. Her smile is so bright she could light up an entire neighborhood .

“Don’t get caught!” I yell as they depart. I look at Alexander, and he’s not joining in my laughter. “What?”

“Julian never needs encouragement.” He takes another drink from his beer and scans the stands. A king surveying his kingdom.

“I’m definitely not a king,” he says.

“What?” Oh no, did I say that out loud?

“I’m far from royalty.” He continues to watch the game. His focus anywhere but here.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. You must be proud of everything. It sure seems like a lot of moving parts.” It’s an impressive organization. I can’t imagine what it takes to keep it running.

I get a gentle nod. Okay then. I’ll try again.

I lean in close, his intoxicating scent nearly overwhelming my brain to think of something, anything, to say. “So, which player’s your favorite? I promise not to tell.”

He slowly turns and looks at me, seemingly surprised by my question. Thousands of people may surround us, but I feel like we’re in our own private bubble. His eyes scan my face, studying every detail, and I feel a little self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear, and he stares at my cheek. Damn. The bruise is fading, and I covered it with makeup, but it’s still noticeable, and he seems to zero in on it. Again. He reaches for my face and catches himself, dropping his hand to the armrest between us.

“I know who my least favorite player is. Or should I say ex-player? I’ve requested he never play ball again, at least not in the MLB. It makes me sick to think about someone hurting you.”

I untuck my hair in a feeble attempt to hide my cheek. “It’s in the past. I’m fine. Really. I wish everyone would quit making a fuss about it.”

“How can you act like it’s no big deal?” His tone changes, showing a bit of anger or irritation.

“Because there’s no sense living in the past. Live and let live. I wasn’t seriously hurt, there were no lingering side effects, and I signed up for a Krav Maga course as a result. It should be fun.” I have a lilt in my voice, signaling I’m really fine with the class. I need to get more exercise, anyway. See, a rainbow from the storm.

“Learning self-defense won’t be fun because it’s become necessary,” he practically growls, the tension just below the surface.

“No, it’s unnecessary, but my dad insisted. I’ve learned how to pick my battles with him, and this isn’t one I’m willing to fight. Growing up like I did, I’ve learned to protect myself.”

His frown deepens as he looks me over head to toe, his eyes lingering on the towel draped over my wet lap. “What, exactly, was in your past that would require you to know self-defense?” Uncertainty fills his eyes. He looks like he is about to go all caveman. I know the look.

I sigh. “Would you dial it down, please?” His brow furrows, like he doesn’t understand what I’m referring to. I rub my thumb between his brows, smoothing the lines. My contact with him breaks his scowl, and he gives me a half-smirk.

“Self-defense?” He’s persistent, that’s for sure.

I sip my liquid courage and turn my attention to the field. I look toward where I think Tyler is sitting. The only way to get him to move on is to tell him and let the chips fall where they may. With an audible exhale, I start. “We moved around a lot because my dad was in the military.” I glance at him, and his eyes are fixed on me. I look away. “It’s hard sometimes, picking up and moving across the world. It’s hard to make friends, real friends. Kids tend to run in packs. The officers’ sons can be real assholes.”

I feel him tense beside me, and when I steal a glance, his scowl is back. I smile at him and rub my finger between those gorgeous ocean-blue eyes that are dark and stormy. His smirk doesn’t return. I drop my hand on my lap. I overstepped and touched him without consent. Am I just as bad as those assholes ?

“Did?” His intense gaze practically melts me into a puddle of goo. I’m not sure my shorts will dry anytime soon at this rate, and not from the beer spill. “Did someone,” he pauses. “Hurt you?” he whispers.

I stare into his eyes, intent on making him understand.

With more conviction than I feel, I say, “No.”

His shoulders relax as he gives me a slight nod. He takes a drink from his bottle, his thumb scraping at the label, shredding it.

I give him my best smile. “It wasn’t easy. I hate conflict and hierarchy and most things with structure. So growing up in the military, well, you can see how that wasn’t ideal. I mean, I love people and wish everyone could be kind to one another. And it was tough being biracial, too. I didn’t fit into any category, so I kept to myself. Loners become vulnerable in the pack world, so I learned how to fight back. I hate it, but it is what it is.” I shrug my shoulders and take another sip of my almost empty beer. Despite my urge to set it down, I hold on like it’s a security blanket. This bottle is doing its duty by keeping my hands occupied. Otherwise, I’d be reaching over to wipe those deep worry lines away from his face. I feel horrible that I’m causing him distress.

“Have you had to defend yourself often?” He’s not back to neutral yet, because I can still feel the tension roll off of him.

“Could I get a water?” Between the look in his eyes and the determined set of his chiseled jaw, I can tell he’s a protector. Hopefully, he’ll offer to get it himself and break this standoff.

He types something on his phone, and the bartender appears at his shoulder before I can count to five. The bartender reaches for my empty beer bottle, and I exchange it for the water bottle, giving him a smile of thanks. Alexander reaches over and opens it for me. His intensity doesn’t stop. Is he always this way?

I take a long drink and a deep breath, pulling myself together. I’m a lightweight with alcohol and shouldn’t have had that last beer.

A young guy appears at his side and hands him a Reapers bag fr om the team store. They don't say anything to each other, but the guy gives me a little wink. Alexander peeks in the bag and hands it to me.

So he texts and things just happen. Amazing.

“What’s this?”

“I know this won’t look as good on you as your shorts, but I wanted you to be comfortable. I’m sorry...”

I interrupt him. “Stop saying you’re sorry. And this is totally unnecessary. I’m fine. Things happen. Live and let live.”

His scowl tells me he doesn’t agree. “There’s a restroom at the back of the suite where you can change.”

His change in tone lets me know this conversation is over, so I take the bag and put on the Reapers track pants. With luck, this will put an end to the argument we both want, but neither has started. The pants are lightweight and luxurious and honestly better than my see through shorts. I’ll give him this, he seems to make decent decisions.

As I go back to my seat, the crowd erupts, and I hear the announcer saying something about a Reapers’ grand slam. I look at the field, too distracted to focus on anything down there. The crowd is on their feet, cheering for the players as they round the bases. When I realize Matt hit the home run, I can’t keep the smile from my face. He’s greeted at home plate by the entire team and lost in his teammates’ embrace. Way to go, Matt!

“He seems like a great guy,” I say as I sit down next to Alexander. “Darcy must be going crazy.”

“Yeah, he’s had a pretty good week. He’s a solid ballplayer, and Ash thinks the world of him,” Alexander says. He scans me from head to toe, and his scowl lessens.

“Ashleigh’s a total sweetheart.”

He nods, his tension releasing a little more. He gives an involuntary smile when he thinks about his sister.

“And Cole plays for the Liberties?”

“He does.” Alexander pauses. “He makes her happy. I’ve enjoye d having her home this week. Might have to reconsider my thoughts on making him a Reaper.”

She’s here because of this crisis. Because of me. A blessing for Alexander, but I bet Cole is missing her. “Was it his dream to be a Liberty?”

“Nope.” He pops his p. There’s a story behind that one-word sentence. Because of my need for him to relax, I decide to let this discussion go. Unfortunately, he isn’t as courteous.

“So, have you had to defend yourself often?” Shit. We’re back to this. My exasperated sigh doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice wraps over me, seeping down to my bones. “I’m making you uncomfortable. I’ll leave you to enjoy the game.”

He goes to leave, and my hand instinctively touches his thigh, pushing him back down. My hand connects with the solid muscle and he pauses. Even though I couldn’t physically stop him from leaving, he understands my intention and stops mid-stand in some awkward squat. The control he has over his body is intriguing.

“Please don’t go.” He lowers himself back to his seat and looks at my hand. I move it so quickly you would think I touched a hot iron. “You promised to stop apologizing to me. So stop.” I say that with some frustration, either because he keeps asking the same question or because I’m really into him, I don’t know.

“I’m,” he starts, and I tsk at him. He lowers his head like one of my third graders when I catch them at something. I laugh at him.

“I’ve still got it!” I laugh louder. No silly giggles for me.

“Got what?” He gives me a curious look. He must think I’m nuts.

“My teacher’s voice. It may be summer break, but I can still put a kid in their place with one look.”

He looks at me with another scowl.

“You’re a teacher? ”

“Yep. Third grade. I love that age. Still young and impressionable, full of curiosity and wonder. Just developing the sass. And the math isn’t that hard yet.” I smile, thinking about my job. I hope I get a wonderful group of kids this year. Only a few more weeks before school starts. I mentally start the countdown until we report to school.

“I never had a teacher like you, that’s for sure.”

“No? What were your teachers like?”

“Old and mean,” he says quickly.

“Oh, I seriously doubt that. But at that age, anyone over the age of sixteen is old and haggard. I’m sure my kids think the same of me. I mean, I’m a mom, so I’m automatically ancient.” I’m acutely aware he’s staring at me again.

“I promise you, they don’t think that.” We sit in comfortable silence and watch the game.

My phone vibrates after standing and singing “Take me out the Ballgame” during the seventh-inning stretch. I look at the pictures Jenny sends me and gasp. She and Julian wrapped every item in Matt’s locker in Christmas paper and put an enormous bow on his nameplate. Does that wrapping paper have Santa in lewd poses?

“Something wrong?” He’s alert again.

I show him the pictures, and a small smile threatens to break free.

“Where did Julian find Christmas paper in July?”

He shakes his head because he knows. “In my office closet. That’s the paper I used for the team gag gifts last year. Maybe this will steer the players off the scent. They still don’t know where the gifts came from, but they know for certain this prank wasn’t me.” He laughs genuinely, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.

“Do I want to ask? What did you get?”

“Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both. ”

I’m loving this banter between us, how he’s showing me another side of himself. I get a feeling it’s not something he shows many people. And it makes me feel very special. Maybe his grumpy, won’t let it drop, over-protectiveness isn’t the primary makeup of his personality. He gave gag gifts to the team and wrapped them himself. There’s a fun side under the stiff business suit. I‘m curious to see more of it.

Too bad this is a one-time encounter. He’s a rich guy who runs in famous circles, and I’m a single mom and third-grade teacher. Nope. Not even in the same game. Not even on the same playing field.

“Oh, so he can have fun.” I lean over and bump into him with my shoulder.

He gives me a magazine-worthy smile, and I see why he’s one of the hottest bachelors in America. His blue eyes glimmer with mischief, and his smile is wickedly sinful.

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Oh, I can have fun.” The innuendo hangs in the air, and unlike the thousands of other women who probably throw themselves at him, I blush. Like a damn shy schoolgirl, I blush.

He clears his throat and focuses his attention on the game. We return to watching in companionable silence. The noise in the suite is almost gone, and I notice most of the other women left, so there aren’t many people in here now. I glance at my host. I know that our time is ticking away with each batter that sits down.

“I’d like to see you again,” he says. His sudden statement surprises me and leaves me with mixed feelings. Sure, I’m attracted to him, but my life isn’t about me anymore. Everything I do affects Tyler. I haven’t dated much since he was born and won’t introduce anyone to him that won’t be sticking around. I’d like to spend more time with him, but it isn’t realistic.

“I’m not sure I can do that…” I start. We’re interrupted by boisterous laughter entering the suite. Jenny and Julian come in, not looking the least bit guilty. They sit directly behind us .

“Dani, you ought to see it. That locker room is nicer than my apartment.” I’m happy Jenny is having a great time. Their entrance breaks the tension between Alexander and me.

“Clubhouse,” Julian corrects. “Locker rooms are for sweaty high school boys.”

“Whatever,” Jenny says and leans down to me. “It was seriously nice. So are the offices. You should see the views.” I’m sure they’re amazing. Another reminder of our different worlds.

Alexander’s phone buzzes, and he looks at the message. He goes to stand, and I don’t stop him this time, even though I want to. I stand at the same time and start to thank him for the evening.

“And the Reapers win!” the announcer booms over the loudspeaker.

Tyler bursts into our circle and wraps his arms around my legs, almost knocking me sideways. Alexander reaches out and takes my elbow to steady me. His hand slides down my arm and he holds my hand.

“Mom, Mom! It was awesome. Did you see me pop the pepper’s balloon? His name is Scoville. He’s named after how hot peppers are, and a reaper is super hot. And then Ashleigh got us Cracker Jacks, and I want to live here like she did.”

We all focus on Tyler, and I take in the smiles. Ashleigh is standing at the bar with my parents, beaming at him. Jenny and Julian smile at him like he’s the cutest kid ever. Even Alexander is smiling, but instead of looking at Tyler, he’s looking at me. His fingers give mine a little squeeze before he drops his hand.

“I saw it all, tiger.” I run my fingers through his dark curls. His hair is unruly, like mine.

I look at Alexander. “Thank you. This was an incredible day, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Anytime. I mean that.” He stoops down to meet Tyler at his height.

“Tyler, would you like to come back to the stadium and practice with the team? ”

“That would be awesome,” he says. His eyes sparkle with excitement. “Can we, Mom?”

“We’ll see,” I say, with a little more attitude than I mean. While I appreciate this invitation, I don’t appreciate that he invited Tyler without asking me first. If we don’t make it, then I’m the bad guy.

“Tyler, let me tell you what we did,” Jenny tells him conspiratorially. The tension between Alexander and me is so intense others feel it. She knows from my tone that I’m not happy. Jenny reaches for Tyler’s hand, and he leaves with her and Julian, going up to where my parents are watching us.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” Worry furrows his brow again.

“Rule number one. Don’t invite a kid to something before you run it past their parent first,” I snap at him, my irritation rising. Is he using Tyler to get to me? Or am I so untrusting of men that I think they will use him to get to me? I hate feeling this way. Maybe the assault impacted me more than I want to believe.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect.” He looks truly sorry, and his hard exterior crumbles a little. “We have open practices once a month where families come, and the kids take batting practice with the guys. I just thought he’d enjoy it, that’s all. But you’re right. I should have asked you first, and I apologize.”

I realize I was harsher than I should have been, and guilt washes over me. He was just trying to be nice and didn’t mean anything by it. Probably. There’s something about him that intrigues me. He’s not the grumpy man he shows the world. It hides in the way he talks with pride about his brother. His glances and brief smiles at his sister. It’s there, just waiting to be set free. Because no one intentionally scowls all the time, right?

“No more apologies, remember?” I give him a little smile. “I get it. You aren’t used to being told no when you make such generous offers.”

“That’s not,” he starts, but is interrupted by Ashleigh. She puts h er hand on his chest and gives him a playful push. He doesn’t budge.

“Everything okay here?” She asks us, but she’s looking up at Alexander.

“It’s fine.” I smile at her. “Thank you all for a fantastic day. You guys royally rolled out the red carpet, and I appreciate it. Tyler will be flying on cloud nine for a while. Thanks again, but I’m going to get him home and attempt to get him to sleep.”

Ashleigh wraps me in a hug. “You have my number,” she whispers. “I’d love to hear from you again.”

As tempting as that would be, I need to remember Cinderella only got one fantasy night. This was mine. It may not have been a fancy ball, but this ballpark was just as magical. I need to get home before the magic wears off and reality settles back in.