Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance (7 page)

He tears the page off and hands it to me.

“Okay,” I say.

“And I’m sorry…” he pauses.

“Hey,” I chuckle. “Mistakes happen.”

“No, I mean…” He points to the bandage on my head. “The baseball.”

I laugh, suddenly remembering the pain radiating my brain. “Oh, yeah.
Fucker
.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”

“You have?”

“When I was a kid,” he nods. “Got hit at a little league game. Woke up in the hospital, same as you.”

“Well…” I smile. “I hope it hurt.”

“It did.”

“Good.”

His eyes fall. “Do you want me to stay for the…”

“The ultrasound?” He nods. “No, you don’t have to.”

“But do you
want
me to?” he asks again.

“No,” I answer. “I’ll be fine. Rose is here.”

“Okay.” He smiles at me. “It was nice to see you again, Daisy.”

I nod. “You, too, Hunter.”

I mean it. I really do but that doesn’t really matter.

Hunter walks out slowly, pausing once to nod at me again before disappearing into the hallway.

I collapse back onto the pillow, feeling the pulsing pain grow in my head.

Rose barges back in and kicks the door closed behind her. “Okay… Start from the beginning.”

I point a finger at his trail. “I fucked that guy.”

“When?”
she asks, plopping into the chair beside me.

I close my eyes, rushing over the memory. “The night you arrived.”

“Seriously?”

“You and John were here and I wasn’t reacting to your engagement all that well, so I just… left and found the nearest bar down the street.”

“And he was there?”

“He was the bartender.”

“Wow...”
She blinks. “Was it nice?”

I sigh. “It was
amazing.
”

“That’s
good
, right?”

“No, Rose. It’s not.”

“Why not? What are you guys going to do?”

“There is no
‘you guys,’
Rose,” I say. “There’s me and there’s him and he’s got other, more important, things going on.”

She frowns. “Did he tell you that?”

“No, I told him that.”

“Daisy—”

“Rose, I can’t have this baby.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, you can. You are!”

“No, I’m not. I’m a mess. I can barely even take care of
myself
. What am I supposed to do with a
baby
?”

She pauses and I see the confusion behind her eyes. “Daisy, I’ve
never
thought you were a mess. I’ve always looked up to you.”

I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, okay.”

“No,
really
. You’re the most confident person I’ve ever met in my life. You know who you are. You don’t care what others think of you, you never have.”

“And look where it got me,” I say, shaking my head. “No amount of confidence can make up for a tiny bank account and…” I pause. “I always promised myself I wouldn’t be like them.”

“Like who?”

“Like Mom and Dad.” Her posture sags. “I promised I’d never make a child grow up in a world so…
broken
. This kid deserves a real home. A real
family
. It sure as hell won’t get it from me and my one-night stand.”

“So, are you gonna get a…?” Her voice falls.

“No, I think I’d rather give it up. There are lots of couples that want babies but can’t have them. You know?”

She nods. “Right.”

“And besides, this is
Home Run Hunter’s
spawn,” I quip. “There’s
definitely
some sports fans out there that would pay top dollar for this kid
on the market
, you know what I mean?”

Rose stares at me with wide, horrified eyes.

“That was a joke,” I say.
“… Sort of.”

She flicks my arm.

Chapter 8

Hunter

Daisy is having my baby.

I came so close to never knowing at all. If that pitcher hadn’t have tried that second curve ball. If I had been a split second too slow. If the wind didn’t blow just the right way. If the ball had rolled out of that guy’s glove to the left instead of the right. If it weren’t for that home run, I would have never known about my baby at all. She didn’t even know my real name.

I should go back. I should go back to that hospital and say what I really wanted to say; that if that baby really is mine then I’m going to be involved. A baby needs a family and as amazing as she is, Daisy Hawthorne can’t do that alone. I could see her drowning in those little, blue eyes.

“Home Run Hunter?”

I pause in the motel lobby, stopped by a rather busty redhead waiting for me by the front desk.

“Hi,” I say.

Probably just another fan. I don’t know how they keep finding our motels but moments after finding out I’m going to be a father is
not
the best time for a quick hook-up.

She extends her manicured hand. “Trisha Wells.
Sports Illuminated
magazine,” she says, her voice thick with a southern accent. “Do you mind if we chat for a moment?”

I shake her hand.
Trisha Wells.
I recognize the name. Hell, every athlete in America knows her name. “Sure.”

“So…” she begins, “you are quite the little celebrity in the world of minor league baseball.”

“So I’m told.”

“Ratings are up across the country. Our website’s servers are barely able to keep up with all the clicks. Folks are tuning in in record numbers to watch you slam yet another home run. Your stats are
insane
.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve already cleared this with Coach Carl and Bud the manager…” She takes a quick step closer and I catch a whiff of her fancy perfume. “I want you to be my newest exposé.”

“The holiday exposé?”

She smirks. “So, you know it?”

“Yeah, I know it,” I chuckle.

Everyone
knows about Trisha Wells’ holiday exposé.

“Here’s how it works…” She licks her lips. “Once a year, I choose an athlete, kind of a diamond in the rough, so to speak, and I give America an all-access pass. I travel around with them for the season, I’m in the dugouts with them, on the bus,” her eyebrow twitches, “
in the motels
. Wherever you go, I go, and we give the world a chance to fall even more in love with you.”

“Sounds invasive,” I note.

“Oh, it is,
but it’s worth it
,” she smiles. “I’ve showcased some of the best athletes in baseball and you’d be hard-pressed to find one that
didn’t
credit a piece of their success to
me
. So…
Hunter
… Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

It’s pretty clear that she’s
interested
in a little more than my talent for hitting homers but I don’t have the energy to think about this right now.

I take a quick step away. “Yeah, I’ll get back to you…”

“Don’t take too long,” she hums. “The bus leaves tomorrow and
I
want to be sitting right next to you. And believe me when I say that the rest of America wants that, too.”

I turn to leave, but pause. Trisha Wells’ exposés all have three things in common: a talented athlete, her witty prose, and…

“This exposé,” I ask, “does it include
pictures
?”

She grins. “I have a photographer from the magazine ready to go at the drop of a hat. He’ll travel with us and get your best side. Trust me. Not that you even have
a bad side
…”

I nod. “I’ll do it.”

She twitches with delight.
“Really?”

“Under one condition.”

“Anything you want, honey.”

“I get to pick the photographer.”

“Well…” She squints. “I don’t think
that’s
possible…”

I shrug and take a wide step around her. “Sorry. No deal.”

“Okay —
okay
.” She darts out in front of me. “It’s a bit unorthodox but I think we can work something out.”

“Good.”

“So…” She bats her eyes at me. “Who did you have in mind?”

Chapter 9

Daisy

When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t expecting the words
yolk sac
and
fetal heartbeat
to be a part of my day. But that’s life, I guess.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at this photo. I’ve seen ultrasounds before on television but I never really thought twice about them. It’s a whole other matter entirely when you’re looking at something inside of your own body.

“What are you thinking about?” Rose asks, sitting down in the chair beside me in my kitchen. She puts a finger on the photo and pulls it closer to her.

“This
thing
,” I say.

“Obviously.” She slides her hand back, this time pushing a scrap of paper at me and I recognize Hunter’s phone number.

I push it back at her. “No.”

“I think you should call him,” she argues.

“Why?”

“Because he’s probably sitting around staring into space, too. It might be nice if he had
something
to stare at.” She gestures to the ultrasound photo.

“You think I should send it to him?”

She nods. “I think he would appreciate it.”

“Maybe.”

“Come on.” She flicks my shoulder. “Send it to him.”

I sigh and reach for my phone. “For the record, I’m acting under protest.”

“Duly noted. Send it.”

I hold the phone above the ultrasound and snap a picture of it before adding his number to my contact book.

The phone rings in my hand and I freeze, staring at the unrecognized number.

“Is it him?” Rose asks with excitement.

“No,” I say. I answer it and hold it up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Trisha Wells from
Sports Illuminated
magazine. Is this Daisy Hawthorne?”

My heart stops. Trisha Wells?
The
Trisha Wells? Why the hell is
the
Trisha Wells calling me?

“Uh… yeah. Yes. This is Daisy Hawthorne.”

“Oh, good! I’m sorry to bother you so late but I have a little opportunity I wanted to run by you.”

“An opportunity?” I push a nosey Rose off my shoulder.

“I just got done taking a peek at your portfolio, Daisy, and I must say, I’m surprised we haven’t called you sooner. You have a great eye.”

“Wow. Thank you, Ms. Wells.”

“This is very short notice but are you familiar with my annual exposé piece?”

“Yes!” I answer. “I look forward to it every year.”

“I thought so!” she chuckles. “Listen, I need a girl like you to team up with me and go on the road for this year’s article. Would you be interested in something like that?”

No fucking way.

Rose taps my arm, jolting me out of my trance.

“Daisy?” Trisha asks.

“Yes,”
I finally answer. “Yes, of course, I’m interested! Thank you so much. How… how short notice?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

My jaw drops. “Oh, wow. That is
really
short notice.”

“I realize that but this is a once-in-a-lifetime gig, honey — and the magazine will shower you with benefits. Free lodging with the team, a per-diem for food and basic needs.
The works
.”

I wait for the catch. There has to be a catch, right? There’s no such thing as too good to be true, especially in my life.

“So, what do you say, Daisy? Are you with me?”

I look at Rose’s screwed up face. She waits on needles to find out what the hell is going on, same as me.

“Yes,” I answer. “I’m with you, Ms. Wells.”

“Oh, please. Trisha is fine, hun.”

“May I ask… who is this year’s exposé on?”

“The one and only Hunter Novak!”

And there it is.

“Really?” I sneer.

“Yep.
Home Run Hunter
himself! In fact, he’s the one that recommended you.”