Her father sounded annoyed. “I’m busy right now. It’s a bad time.”
Yes. Yes, she knew exactly how busy he was. He’d been busy all her life, far too busy for her unless it was work-related. And suddenly-or maybe not so suddenly at all-starting up her own PR firm, away from all this McNead drama, was starting to look better and better. “It’s just odd that Jeremy would ask this of me after his attempt to destroy my life and career.”
“Jesus, Samantha. He fucked up, and he’s paying the price. It’s time to get over your grudge.”
“Get over it?” she asked incredulously. “He sneaked into my locked work files to use my knowledge and privileged information on the Heat against us. He sold information, privileged information, to the press. He set it up to look like I was sabotaging my own team. I think I’m entitled to a little grudge.”
“Fine. Just hold it on your own time.”
“But-” But nothing, her father was gone. Sam pinched the bridge of her nose and tried deep breathing. It didn’t work. Jeremy and Lynn had been together for about fifteen minutes, and when Lynn left, Jeremy and Tag had stayed in South Carolina. It was where Jeremy now worked-as Sam’s equivalent-at the Buck’s home facilities. Sam hadn’t even met Tag until he’d turned four, and that was only because Jeremy had flown him to California for Christmas one year.
She had seen him at a few family gatherings since, for a grand total of three times.
Three.
Which would mean nothingto a frightened, lonely boy. God. This wasn’t her fault but guilt swamped her all the same. There’d been plenty of family events she could have attended: birthdays, weddings… But she’d skipped them. She’d skipped them because she’d always been working.
Which meant she was just as bad as the rest of the McNeads. Discovering she was more like her father than she could possibly have imagined was a bitter pill. Yes, she’d been distant because they weren’t a close family. After all, her brothers and father had their own lives and she had hers. But surely if she’d had a kid, her own kid, she wouldn’t have worked as much as she had over the years.
She’d have…
What?
Would she have given up the job, the career she loved with all her heart?
Dammit.
Not happy with herself, she headed down the hall after Wade and Tag, wondering how she’d survive the next ninety days. She knew as much about little boys as she knew about…
Big boys.
Which wasn’t all that much, as evidenced by the complete lack of boys in her life. Well, with the exception of one, big, bad, sexy-as-hell boy who wasn’t a boy at all, but a man. Though honestly, she considered Wade more of a problem than a man. Which meant that she had her biggest problem leading her next biggest problem by the proverbial hand, and she could do little else but follow.
Chapter 14
It ain’t nothin’ till I call it.
– Bill Klem, umpire
Sam entered the vast equipment storage room. It was lined with rows of metal shelving units holding the stuff of any sports lover’s fantasy: bats, gloves, mitts, uniforms, athletic shoes, sweats, medical equipment, even bottled water with the Heat label.
Sam had taken grown men through here and seen them actually well up at the sheer joy and awe. She didn’t feel the pull of the room as someone with a penis might, but could understand it. After all, she loved the game, loved almost everything about it: the way it felt to sit in the stands on a steamy, hot summer night with a hot dog in one hand and a soda in the other, the scent of freshly cut grass on the air as the sun sank, the sound of the bat hitting the ball just right.
Walking down the main aisle, different scents assaulted her. Clean, untried leather. Ace bandages. Fresh wood bats. She inhaled and found herself relaxing as if she’d been at home.
Until she heard the soft, male voices, one higher in tenor-Tag. The sound of him made her stomach hurt.
The other voice was low and calm and just a little bit raspy-Wade.
The sound of him made her nipples go hard.
She took a deep, fortifying breath, assured herself she could handle this-hell, she could handle anything-and moved forward.
Wade led Tag down the aisles of the equipment room. Tag was trying to play it cool but the inherent boy in him couldn’t seem to resist the goods all around them. He’d widened his eyes at first but then checked himself, reaching out to touch a jersey, then pulling back his hand like he was too cool to be excited.
“You’ve seen a room like this before, right?” Wade asked. “You’ve been to the Bucks’s facility?”
“Yeah, but you have way more stuff.” Tag stuffed his hand into his pocket, which suddenly bulged suspiciously.
“What’s that?” Wade asked.
“Nothing.”
Nothing his ass. “Let me see.”
With a soft exhale of sheer bravado, Tag shoved his hand into his pocket, then opened his fingers, revealing a deck of trading cards.
Unopened.
“You have sticky fingers.”
Tag studied the tops of his shoes.
“Thought you didn’t like the Heat.”
More studying of the shoes.
Wade sighed, handing the cards back to him.
Tag lifted his head and stared at him like, What’s the catch?
“If you don’t attempt another five-fingered discount, you can keep them,” Wade said. “And next time, just ask.”
“I was gonna.” Tag shoved the cards back in his pocket.
“Uh-huh. What else did you snag?”
“Nothing.”
From Tag’s his other pocket came a pack of Sugarlicious bubblegum, half eaten. “See?” He popped a huge piece of gum in his mouth, started chewing, drooled a little bit, and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. When he saw Wade watching him, he paused. “Want a piece?”
“Sure.” Wade popped a piece in his mouth and strawberry flavor burst over his tongue. “How long are you staying?”
“Dunno. My mom’s in Europe. She doesn’t make it home very often.”
Wade remembered that feeling all too vividly. “That sucks.”
Tag slid him a surprised look. Most likely people had been glossing over it all his short life. Wade didn’t believe in glossing.
“My dad’s going to be gone for three months.” Tag said this nonchalantly, but the undercurrent of grief was apparent. “I guess rehab takes a while.”
“Do you understand what rehab is?”
Tag didn’t look up. “Not really.”
Anger welled within Wade for the kid, who should have been told so much more than he had been. “It’s a place to go when you need help to try to get better.” Try being the operative word here. Wade hoped like hell it worked better for Jeremy than it’d ever worked for Wade’s dad.
“In the meantime, you have your Aunt Sam looking out for you.” She was already on the job, he could hear her heels clicking along with efficient authority. “She’s pretty great.”
Tag looked at Wade, eyes suddenly sharp. “You like her or something?”
“We’re… friends.”
“You like her.”
Wade studied Tag. “How are you at keeping secrets?”
“Real good.”
Wade didn’t believe that for a minute but he answered anyway. “You’re right. I like her.”
Tag studied Wade with all the scrutiny a frustrated, angry ten-year-old could muster. “When my dad likes a girl, they sleep over and I have to stay upstairs.”
While Wade wrestled with his sudden urge to hurt Jeremy, Tag turned his attention to the jerseys hanging over his head. Wade pulled one down. “This is Pace Martin’s.”
“Your pitcher.”
“Yes.”
Tag was quiet a moment, but Wade could see that he wanted something. “You can say anything to me. We’re in the cone of silence here.”