Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance (73 page)

Rose lays a hand on my chest and guides me back.
“Later,”
she teases. “We’re just friends today, remember?”

“Just friends,” I nod. “Got it.”

“I’m going to grab my purse and then I think we’re ready.” She points at my face and winks. “You may want to fix your lipstick, too.”

I touch my lips and that bright color rubs off on my fingers. “I don’t know. This shade totally brings out my eyes, doesn’t it?”

She laughs and the world makes sense.

***

“Holy crap.”

I smile. Rose has said it about fourteen times since we got here but it never gets any less cute. Her wide eyes peek out through her glasses, touching any and everything they can throughout each room we pass through. The foyer, the kitchen, especially the back garden.

I’ll admit, I’m a bit impressed with the garden myself. The last time I saw it, it was set up for a press event for Cary Pierce to show off the young and talented team he was going to coach to victory last year; landscaped with a tall bushes and bright lights set up so the photographers could get our best sides and all that crap.

Now, it looks even better. Dozens of chairs are set up with a wide aisle between them; rows of them pointed towards a white altar standing on the far side. The pool on the opposite side is covered with rose petals. A string quartet plays softly nearby. Most of the team has already arrived, sitting in chairs scattered around both sides with their dates.

“This is adorable,” Rose says, glancing around.

I admire her grin. “Yes, it is.”

We walk down the aisle together to find our seats and I catch multiple eyes staring us down — including Douglas. I knew Junior invited the whole team, but I honestly didn’t expect many of the defensive linemen to show up, especially not him. He sits near the back with Stephanie Gomez, of all people. I guess he didn’t get the memo about a classy plus one, or he flat out ignored it.

To her credit, Stephanie seems to be taking the occasion seriously with a tasteful, black cocktail dress but she’s got her face so immersed in her phone that she hasn’t quite noticed how hard Douglas is staring at Rose instead of her.

I sit us down on the opposite side near the front.

Rose glances around, her eyes still wide and sparkling with glee. She looks over her shoulder and pauses, her face falling slightly before she spins forward again.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yep,” she answers. “So, that’s Junior Morgan.”

I look at him by the altar. He seems oddly calm for a guy about to get married; chatting and chuckling away with Ty standing beside him. “That’s Junior.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen him this close before…”

I laugh. “One of your finest qualities, Rose.”

“Oh, yeah…” she chuckles. “I hear he has quite the reputation.”

“Not anymore. He’s a one-woman man now. Well, two, if you count his daughter.”

She glances around. “I keep hearing about this perfect baby girl. Where is she?”

“I’m sure she’ll make an appearance…” I say, scanning the rows.

After a few minutes, the string quartet swells into the familiar wedding march. Heads spin around, eager to catch their first glimpses of the blushing bride.

But first, it’s just Grant.

Rose gasps, along with every other lady sitting around.

Grant holds Junior and Eliza’s daughter in one arm with a basket full of flower petals in the other. He reaches in and tosses a few on the grass, prompting little Courtney to do the same as he walks slowly towards the altar.

“Oh, my god…”
Rose coos.

“Yep,” I nod.

“Okay, yeah. That baby couldn’t be cuter.”

“I know, right?” I glance over at her and shrug. “You could probably do better, though.”

She pauses, her eyes flicking in my direction as her cheeks turn bright red. “Who’s the guy?” she whispers, changing the subject.

I lean in closer. “That’s Grant.”

“He looks familiar.”

“Do you go to school plays?”

“Yep,” she nods with recognition, “that’s where I know him from. He was the lead with Eliza last year.”

“Uh-huh.” Grant winks at me as he passes us by. “He lives with Ty Fisher.”

“Like…
lives with
Ty Fisher?”

Grant stops at the altar and passes the baby into Junior’s loving arms. Before he takes his spot on the bride’s side, he plants a kiss on Ty’s cheek.

“Yep,” I answer.

“Aww,”
she sighs.

Everyone looks back again as the first few notes of “Here Comes the Bride” strike our ears.

Another round of
‘ahh’
s break through the crowd, everyone staring at Eliza as she takes her first steps down the long aisle in her white dress.

Rose’s jaw drops, her eyes locked on the man giving her away. “Holy crap.”

I chuckle. “Calm down, Rose.”

“It’s Cary Pierce,”
she squeals softly.

“Yes, I know.”

“Holy crap.”

I grab her hand to soothe the growing fangirl fit as they march by us.

While everyone else stares at the happy couple, standing together with their baby barely holding herself up between them, I can’t break my gaze on Rose. I used to think the kind of relationship Junior and Eliza have was unattainable but now, I’m not so sure.

Rose peeks over at me, suddenly realizing that I’m still holding her hand on my lap. I see that look of unease behind her glasses but she doesn’t try to pull away.

Instead, she just looks back at me and smiles.

And then it hits me.

I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Rose Hawthorne.

Chapter 20

Rose

After the ceremony, we’re led back into the house and I relish in the opportunity to take another look around Cary Pierce’s house.

The ballroom in the east wing is set up for the reception with nearly twenty tables scattered around and a dance floor stationed in the middle. A DJ has already taken his place near the front table, just waiting for the signal to kick the beat up a notch.

Junior and Eliza stand by the doorway, greeting guests as they walk in. Most of us rush to Eliza first since she’s holding the baby while the football players mostly just shake Junior’s hand.

“Congratulations, Eliza,” I tell her. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“Thank you…” she says, shaking my hand while expertly balancing her daughter in the other arm.

“Rose,” I say, noticing her head tilt.

“Ahh, yes! You’re one of the team’s plus ones. It’s nice to meet you.” She glances around. “Which one are you with?”

I point towards him and Junior. “John.”

She blinks and looks me up and down. “John?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“John
Kirby
?”

“Is that bad?”

She laughs. “No, no. You just…” Her eyes flick between me and him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem so
normal
and he’s…”

“Eccentric?”

“That’s a nice way of putting it, yes.”

“What can I say?” I shrug. “He has his
finer
qualities.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Rose,” she grins, “but I’m just going to take your word for it.”

“I don’t blame you.”

We laugh and I manage a quick poke of the baby’s cheeks before walking in with John. He leads me towards our table and I smile as he pulls out my chair for me.

“So,
she
has a really high opinion of you,” I tell him as I sit down.

“Who? Eliza?”

“Yeah.”

He sits down beside me. “She just knows what Junior tells her.”

“And what does Junior tell her?”

He clears his throat and smiles. “Lies and heresy, I’d imagine.”

I glance around, taking in the faces of his teammates and I wonder just how many people in here can say they really know John Kirby. How many of them know how smart he is? How romantic he is? I probably know him better than anyone and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me feel a little warmer inside.

The guests settle in for the various traditions that keep the DJ nice and preoccupied. Junior and Eliza share their first dance. He dances with his mother and sister. She dances with her father and his father. It’s the musical chairs of partner swapping until the DJ opens the floor to everyone else.

“Dance with me.”

I blink, slowly realizing that those words came from John. “No,” I say.

“Come on,” he says, reaching below the table for my hand. “It’s a slow song.”

“Do you even know how to dance?” I quip. “I don’t want you to embarrass me.”

He grins and stands me up out of my chair before I can argue any further. “Yes, Rose,” he says, leading me to the floor. “I know how to dance.”

I step forward, yanked softly by his momentum and he embraces me like a fragile flower in his hands. He lays a palm on my waist and entwines his fingers in mine with the other, easily leading me with the gentle sway of the music.

“Okay, fine…” I chuckle. “You’ve done this before.”

“Rose…” He speaks at a low, steady volume. “I’m about to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone else before.”

I catch the serious look in his eyes and my chest flutters. “All right.”

John pauses and licks his lips, hiding a subtle smile from me. “I have twelve older cousins,” he says. “All of them are girls.”

I tilt my head. “Twelve?”

He nods. “My mother has four sisters. Each of them had girls… but she had me.”

“You’re the only male in your generation?”

“Yep. Now,
eight
of my cousins have gotten married in the last six years and I’ve been to every single one of those weddings.”

“Whoa, that’s
a lot
of weddings…”

“Yes, it is,” he smiles. “My mother — with her infinite wisdom and foresight — saw this coming and she didn’t want me embarrassing her at these little shindigs, so… when I was fifteen, she made me take dance classes with her.”

I pause, staring into his serious eyes. “
You’ve
taken dance classes?”

“And I’m not talking about a few hours of box stepping, one-two-three, one-two-three. No, I’m talking Monday-Wednesday-Friday for
ten straight weeks.
”

My jaw drops.
“Oh, my god.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods.

“What did you learn?”

“Everything,
” he laughs. “The waltz, line dancing,
square
dancing, the tango—”

“Wait — you can
tango
?”

“The mambo, the merengue, disco, swing—”

“Okay —
stop
,” I say, feeling my belly jerk with laughter. “The mental imagery is happening too fast for me to keep up.”

“Needless to say…” He dips me back and swings me up again, sending a dizzy shock down through my toes. “I have not embarrassed my mother
once
and I will not embarrass you either.”

“Obviously…” I look down at his confident feet. “Did they teach you
ballet
?”

“No.”
He shakes his head. “But my cousin up in Chicago is a ballerina and I’ve met some of the guys she works with. I can admit, without the slightest hesitation, that I am
not
hardcore enough to be a ballerino.”

The laugh bursts from my chest. “Oh, really?”

“I’m serious,” he grins. “Those guys are
ripped
. I’ll stick with the ballroom stuff.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Honestly, yeah,” he says. “At first, I thought it was lame, of course, but after a while… I got pretty good at it.”

“Wow…” I force the hysterics down. “I never would have guessed there was such a lighter, fluffier side to you, John Kirby.”

He shrugs. “When you grow up surrounded by a dozen girls, you learn real fast how to blend in.”

I stare up at him, feeling a rush of warmth, and I smile. “Why did you tell me this?”

“Seems relevant to the current situation,” he says. “Also, when you laugh really hard, your nose curls up and that’s just… the cutest thing. I like making you do that.”

I drop my eyes to our feet as my heart twists. “Oh.”

He taps a finger beneath my chin, nudging me to look up again. “You know, that dress of yours is
really
doing things to me.”

“What kind of things?”

“Like…” He leans in a little closer, dropping his voice to a soft whisper. “It’s making me want to lay you down and slides your panties off with my teeth…” I bite my lip as a shiver scratches down my spine. “I want to bury my face in your—”

“John!”

A large hand slaps his shoulder and I let go of him as we pull apart.

“Hey, Coach!” John says. The hand slips from his shoulder and he shakes it, acting like it’s no big deal at all while my gut sinks down to my toes.

Oh, god.
It’s Cary
freakin’
Pierce.

He grins at John. “I see you’re having fun.”

Oh, god. Oh, god.

“You know me, Coach,” John says, “I always bring a little fun with me, just in case.”