Pitcher's Baby Page 3

  “Hey, guys.” She pulls the waist of her pants up before squatting down eye level with us. “We’re going to go on a fun trip, like a vacation. Doesn't that sound fun? You want to see the ocean, don't you?” she asks us excitedly.

  “Yeah,” I reply, catching easily onto her excitement and looking to my brother, begging him with my raised eyebrows to agree. I have never been to the ocean before, and she was making it sound like so much fun.

  “Who are you?” Aaron asked curiously. I watch her open her mouth to answer, and then before she gets the chance, she’s cut off by another stranger in the driver's seat of a car that looks a lot like a truck, an El Camino, as I would later learn it was called.

  “Dawn! Come on! We have to get on the road,” he yells.

  That name, Dawn, hits me like an electric shock all at once. Could this be the Dawn? The same phantom woman my dad babbles on and on about every time he drinks more than 6 beers? My mother? She exists? I dreamed and fantasized about the day she would come for us, never truly believing that day would come.

  “You’re my mother?” I ask her, even though I already know in my heart she is. She nods her head, causing her slick, straight, blonde hair to fall across her face, temporarily shielding my view of her. She runs her long red nails through it at the scalp, pushing it back out of her face and gazes up at me from under her eyelashes, like she is afraid of my reaction to this news. The resemblance is uncanny. I always thought I favored my daddy because I have his darker skin tone, even if mine is more white than his. Being a quarter black gave me just enough whatever it was that if I stood in the sun for more than five minutes I tanned darker than most of the white girls who spent all summer sun bathing. It also bleached my hair to a startling snow white blonde every year.

  I gaze back at her. A fluttering starts in my chest. I don't immediately recognize it as what it is—hope. My lips stretch across my face, wide and welcoming. ‘I have her eyes,’ I think, looking into hers. We three all share the same large, round, doe-like shape, but mine are a lighter brown color than hers, resembling warmed honey rather than hot chocolate. Aaron looks from me to her and back to me, his mouth dropped open slightly.

  “Yes, baby. I am your Momma.” She reaches for Aaron’s hand, pulling us both toward her car. “Come on. Let’s go before Frank gets mad.”

  “Where is my daddy?” Aaron asks after we climb in the backseat. His voice is just above a whisper, almost like he is afraid to speak up. My brows draw together. We have literally just found our mother. We have a mom now! So why is he so scared? I take his hand in mine to try to comfort him like Daddy does after we have a bad dream.

  “He’s at work, Tiger,” Mom says, turning in her seat to see us. “He said to tell you to have a good time and he will see you both when you get back.” Her words sound funny to me—not in a bad way, just different from what I am used to hearing. “Let’s have fun, okay?”

  Chapter Three

  Lucas

  I wake the next morning and lie in the bed thinking about the night before. Today is our day off from playing, so I had planned on doing some running around and handling a few errands, but now I’m thinking about hanging around the house and waiting for Aaron to get home.

  I crawl out of the bed and head to the kitchen. Charlee looked like she hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while, and if she is anything like Aaron, then breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. Pulling out the bacon and eggs, I get started on cooking.

  “Mmm, do I smell coffee?” Charlee asks, walking into the kitchen and rubbing her eyes. Her hair is in a bun on top of her head and tiny wisps frame her face. The dark circles around her eyes have faded with a night’s rest, but I can still see the shadow of them lurking beneath the surface.

  “Yep, by the stove. Do you want cream and sugar?” I ask, turning away from her so she won’t catch me staring. The truth is, even under the dark circles and the greasy, nappy, hair, all I can see is a breathtaking angel. She looks exhausted and in desperate need of a vacation, but there is absolutely no denying her beauty.

  “Please.”

  I pour her a cup of coffee and add a healthy dose of cream before passing it and the sugar to her with a spoon. She takes it greedily, sipping the warm liquid. I hear the front door open, and Aaron calls through the house, “Charlee? Lucas?”

  “In the kitchen,” I yell, turning back to the stove.

  “What’s this? Breakfast and my favorite girl in the world?” Aaron asks, picking Charlee up and twirling her in the air. She laughs and giggles uncontrollably before slapping him on the back and demanding he set her back down.

  “Stop, you nut job,” she says, slapping him repeatedly.

  “Where is my princess? Uncle Aaron needs some sweet love, since you’re so abusive,” he says, sitting Charlee on the countertop.

  “She’s still sleeping. She had an eventful night last night.”

  “Asleep? It’s after ten. Time for sleeping beauty to rise.” Aaron takes off running down the hall to Charlee’s room, and five minutes later, he returns with a squalling baby girl.

  “Shh . . . it’s okay, princess. Uncle Aaron’s got you.” The baby doesn’t seem to care one lick about getting woken up from her peaceful slumber, and she has no problem telling the world about it.

  “Charlee, how do you make it stop?” She just laughs, holding her ribs tight while Aaron bounces up and down, trying to quiet her screaming daughter. I take pity on him after a few minutes and offer to take the baby from him. He happily passes her off to me.

  Laying her stomach down against my forearm, I let her tiny head rest in the crease of my elbow while my hand holds her firm on her bottom. I swing her back and forth while I warm a bottle from the fridge, passing it to her mom to check the temperature before I offer it to the baby girl.

  “How the hell did you do that?” Aaron asks, dumbfounded.

  “I guess you just gotta know how to handle the ladies, bro,” I tease him, earning a chuckle from Charlee.

  Turning the baby over, I cradle her in my arms and offer her the warm bottle. “Quel est votre nom, tout-petit?” I ask her.

  “Everly,” Aaron says, understanding my question while Charlee just stares at me like I’ve grown an additional head in the last two seconds.

  “Everly, huh? I like it.”

  “Everly Grace Cooper. That is her name. If that is what you were wondering. I don’t speak that much French, but I’m sure if I spend enough time around you, I’ll brush up on my high school version soon enough.”

  “Cooper? You didn’t give her her father’s last name?” Aaron asks, confused.

  “Nope.”

  The way she says it leaves no room to elaborate or question her further, even if I want to. Setting the bottle on the counter, I place Everly on my shoulder and pat her back until she releases a burp that would shame most men. The bacon is sizzling on the stove, but my hands are full, so Charlee takes over cooking, and by the time I’m done feeding Everly, breakfast is done.

  “What do you have planned for today?” Aaron asks Charlee after making himself a heaping plate of seconds. Charlee is still nibbling at her first plate of eggs and bacon. She seems completely uninterested in eating, like she is lost in her own thoughts.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just hang out around here. I don’t really know anything about the area, and even if I wanted to get out and explore, I don’t have a car yet.”

  “Char, I’ve told you a million times already not to worry about that kind of stuff. I already added you to my bank account and had my accountant print you your own debit card. Use it for whatever you need. God knows, there’s enough money in it for the both of us and then some. You can use my Tahoe or the Altima. It’s up to you. I can’t drive them both, so just pick one. Seriously, let me take care of you guys for now. I know how stubborn you are and how much you like to do shit all on your own, but sometimes you gotta take a helping hand.”

  “Okay, sheesh, whatever you want as long as I don’t have to si
t through another of your long ass speeches.”

  “Fine. I love you, Brat.”

  “Love you too, Nerd.”

  I try to remain as inconspicuous as possible during their exchange, not wanting to intrude on a family moment, but Everly begins crying, and this time, I don’t think she wants anything but her momma. I pass her off and watch as she heads down the hall toward her room.

  “Please tell me I don’t see what I think I see happening here,” Aaron says, looking at me watching his sister walk down the hall.

  “What?” I ask.

  “How long have we known each other?”

  “I don’t know. Three years?”

  “Yeah, and in three years, I have never seen you look at a woman. I’ve never seen one so much as catch your eye, and yet my sister hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet, and you can’t take your eyes off her.”

  “It’s not like that, man.”

  “Is it not? I don’t really care. I’m not here to tell you or her what to do. I’m only going to say this: She has been through hell, and I mean hell, over the last year, and it took a lot out of her to come to me for help. Don’t fuck her up worse. She needs friends right now.”

  “Man, you don’t need to say anymore. If anything—and I mean anything at all—comes of this, you know I will take care of her.”

  “Alright, bro. Now tell me, how did you get Everly to be quiet? I swear that baby hates me.” I can’t help but laugh at that.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “French fucker, you’re supposed to use your powers for the good, man.”

  “I did. The baby stopped crying, didn’t she?”

  “I guess. What you got planned today? You up for a shopping trip?”

  “Shopping? Where? Don’t you have enough shit?”

  “Not for me, asshole.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure. Just let me shower.”

  “All right, I’m going to break the news to the twin. If you don’t see me in thirty minutes, come find my body. I don’t know why she has such a problem with accepting help.”

  “No worries. I’ll bury you deep and make sure she doesn’t serve any hard time.”

  “Thanks, man. You’re a real friend.”

  After I load the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher so Clarisa doesn’t murder me, I grab some clothes and jump in the shower. I can hear Charlee and Aaron arguing back and forth with each other in her room. I understand her reasons for not wanting the help and wanting to do everything on her own. I was the same way for a while, but now she has a child, and it’s time to realize that not every person in her life wants to hurt her. Some genuinely care and want to help.

  I’m dying to ask what happened with her and the baby’s father, but I feel like that is a story she should share when and if she feels it’s necessary. It’s abundantly clear that they are not together and that he left her in a crappy situation. I hate that for her and Everly. It reminds me so much of my own childhood and the days following my adopted father leaving.

  I was young and I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember the tears—the endless tears my mother tried to hide from me day in and day out while she sat huddled over the kitchen table, staring at stacks of paper that I now know were late bills. I don’t know how she managed to pull herself out the enormous debt he left behind and managed to still give me everything I wanted or needed, but she did, and I will forever love her for it.

  Chapter Four

  Charlee

  Apparently, I’m going shopping today.

  I tried to argue my way out of it, but in the end, he pulled the one card I couldn’t fight against.

  Everly.

  She deserves it, she really does. I only brought what I couldn’t live without when I left Alabama. At the rate she’s growing, she will be out of her three month clothes in the next week. She needs more diapers and wipes, and her Uncle Aaron wants to buy it all.

  “Please, Charlee. I missed the baby shower. Let me buy her some stuff,” he begged.

  My shoulders sag forward. I can’t deny him on my best day, but bring Everly into the mix, and fighting is pointless. I know it. “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” he says, grabbing me and pulling me in close for a tight hug. I let him wrap his arms around me, fighting the urge to push away. Luckily, he releases me before the instinct to run away becomes too much to bear.

  “Lucas is showering now. He’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. How long will it take you?”

  “Lucas is coming? Why?”

  “I don’t know. I asked him. It’s our only day off this week. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, I guess. How do you know him?”

  “Seriously, Charlee, I’ve told you about him a million times. We met in the minor leagues and got drafted together. He’s my closest friend. Hell, he’s my only true friend other than my beautiful sister.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember. Okay. I’ll be ready.” Aaron leaves me to finish getting ready, and twenty minutes later, I’ve managed to get dressed and resemble a human being of sorts. My hair however is just too much to worry with right now. I spray a heavy dose of dry shampoo into the roots and then try to tame the wayward curls with a pick before I give up and pull the mess of it up in a sloppy bun on the side of my head. It will do and this way I don’t have to worry about Everly trying to pull my hair out while I feed her. I just need to finish getting Everly’s stuff together, and I’ll be good to go. Dropping her off in the living room with Aaron, I start the tedious process of packing a bag for a baby.

  I’m on my way to grab Everly’s diaper bag that I had left in Lucas’s bedroom the night before when the bathroom door opens. When Lucas steps out, my jaw hits the floor. I don’t think I have ever seen a more beautifully sculpted male body in all my life. He’s all lean and tight. I never would have guessed what he hid underneath the suit and tie the league forces them to wear. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and is drying his hair with another one. Steam bellows out around the door, cascading him in a hazy glow. I stand there staring at him for at least two minutes before he notices me.

  Long, lean arms lead straight into well-rounded, muscular shoulders. I see the markings of a tattoo starting at his collar bone, but I can’t make out what it is unless he turns around. I don’t want him to turn around. I don’t want him to move.

  I count eight sexy, hard as steel abs before my eyes reach the rim of the towel and I can’t go any lower. The slit in the towel opens, and I see his thigh sneaking out, teasing me. Now I understand why they say pitchers use their legs as much as their arms when pitching. His legs are like a work of art. I wish I had my camera and could somehow convince him to let me photograph his body, but I pawned it a month ago for diaper money, and my phone camera wouldn’t do his body the justice it deserves.

  My gaze travels slowly back up his body, and on my way up, I can’t help but notice the tent now centered at the apex of his thighs. My gaze shoots straight to his face. He raises his eyebrows, and I can physically feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I’ve never in my life had any man evoke a reaction in me before. Normally, I went along with the kissing and the pawing in a desperate attempt to feel something—anything—but one look from Lucas Bouchard, and I feel everything.

  My tangled insides are trying to crawl out from within my stomach. My heart rate increases and my cheeks flush. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act. I’ve never been caught ogling a man before, and if I had, it never would have bothered me like this.

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” I squeak, and he raises his eyebrows again, giving me this panty melting smirk. I wish I could slap myself upside the head right about now.

  “I mean, we’re ready—to go shopping. Whenever you are . . . um,” I swallow hard, and my gaze shoots straight back down to the ever-growing erection under the soft gray towel. “um . . . dressed?” I ask.

  I don’t know why. Of course he needs to get dressed, but God, right this second, I’d really love to kn
ow how his hands feel on my body. I’d like to see if it’s possible for him to make me feel anything more than just the sight of him already has.

  I stand there waiting for God only knows what until he finally clears his throat. “I’ll be right out.”

  “Okay,” I say, and yet I still can’t move. My legs won’t obey my brain, or maybe my brain won’t tell my legs that they need to move. I don’t know what is going on, but at this point, I’m pretty sure Lucas thinks I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

  “Did you need something else, Charlee?” he asks, taking a step into the room. He’s two feet away from me now, and I swear it’s like all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out. I can’t breathe, yet he’s still coming closer. With each step he takes, my heart leaps against my ribs until he’s right next to me, and the only thing separating us is a sliver of space so minute, I doubt a fly could squeeze through. He reaches his arm out, and I tense without meaning to, because this is the answer I’ve been wanting. Will his touch affect me the same way his presence does, or will it be worse?

  Only he doesn’t touch me.

  Of course he doesn’t, stupid girl. Why would he want to touch you?

  He reaches right past me, grabbing his shirt off the bed and sliding it over his head. My legs finally decide to listen to my internal command, and while he’s distracted with a shirt halfway on, I make my escape down the hall.

  Chapter Five

  Lucas

  Department store.

  Not just any department store. Macy’s.

  Need I say more? Hanging out at the Biltmore Fashion Park is not really my idea of a good time, but it’s better than sitting at the house all alone. I frown and open the door, allowing Charlee to walk ahead of me. She smiles at me, and I can't help but return it. It’s contagious, like Ebola. Ok, that's a really bad comparison, but seriously, if you’re near her and she smiles, you just can't help it. For that brief moment, I don't feel an ounce of dread, anger or shame. I feel light and open—fresh. She breathes fresh air into me with just a simple smile.